Opening Healing Deeper
for R. A.

With you here I can't write
You burn so deep
Like cauterising ancient injuries
Healing, opening, healing deeper
Opening healing deeper.
A torchlight on the hidden
Carving into stone 
What I dare not think.
And today we had another walk, 
Another clearing,
Another time among the trees
The place where you are braving
Standing up to yourself
With yourself.
In the bravery of stepping out
Or stepping up 
Is sometimes not about saving a life
But saving your own.
With yourself
What wavering trees
Deep rooted, only bending at leaf edge,
Blooming bright on a clear day
When you're here I can't write
Anything but my deepest truth

Ceilidh Poems

Opening, Healing Deeper

Poem - I Haven’t The Time



I haven’t the time for this 
For people taking advantage
I haven’t the patience
For scammers and charmers
For non communicators
For people who expect me to mind read
Expect me to take lead,
To do my own research
And disappear down rabbit holes
And speak to dark industry moles
And make my own mind up.
So far all of you expecting me to understand
Your theories conspiracy,
Or otherwise. Your teachings 
And how much I’m willing 
to invest 
In myself
To build better abs or pecs
Or guilt me into believing
My anxieties are privilege 
They get stuck in my language.
I have no patience
For my own impatience
For your lack of compass
And how compassion 
Isn’t my first port of call.

Poem: I Haven't The TIme For This

#Poem No Second Dates

I was a little more fun tonight
There was a little more bounce in my play
I was on every line
Hitting every change
Guiding the fleet of every thought
Grabbing every laugh
Every twinkle caught by watching eyes. 

While my feet were stepping
On point in the moment
Not a beat out of time
My headlights were on full
Beaming way into the future

Seeing round bends
And I could see what waves
I’d have to climb
For what mountain
Winds I’d have to cast anchor

Instead I was a bright red kite
In a flat blue sky
Seen by all who were wondering
Who was tugging at my string
Could they tell as much as I?

It’s not like my agent was in
Or old tutors
Or new mentors
Or mum and dad
No second dates
But I’m glad you were there to see it.

Poem: No Second Dates

Poem - Shadow Blooms

Do you know what you’re doing?
Drops of oil on the surface
Spread far, running on the water
They settle, co-mingle
Until the shadow blooms and rests
And the fingers stop feeling the surface of the paper.
I can’t predict.
I can only guide. 
Like a child born
With twinkly eyes
Looking for escape.

I can tell there’s a journey. 
I can tell the wartier’s bleak
And the landscape is sparse
And covered in snow.
Black branches in the flurry,
Withdraw as a house in the woods
Revealed 
With a welcome light
With a fireplace inside
And a rug to warm your legs
And rest a night
On your journey home.

Poem: Shadow Blooms

Time Comes Too Soon

Weather changes
Time comes too soon
A long summer of bird flock
With the throb of wingbeat
From the sea back to land
And on the land
Resting heavy bones
Underneath the skylight.
And underneath that square of sky
Where we stood
To see the infinite us
As our fingers grow into each others
And our souls continue
That upward.
Upward

Time comes too soon

The Clear Day

The birds took  my sight
Far out beyond the cliffs
Far out over the blue
It looked calm but I knew
That there was more.

Moving in slow rivers
Snaking sea-monsters.
Far far under what you can see
Is the sea under the sea
Never reaching the shore.

Under storms surface scars
Or wind whipped spray
Don’t go searching deep down
For dark waters drown
Our souls in their devils roar

Fishermen, pirates, mermaids, 
Sailors coiled in desperate embrace
Lost girls and boys sewn in tales
Told over whiskies and ales
Until they’re part of local lore.

Whenever you look out to sea
And the calm or the spray
Trances you to thinking of the now
Think of those lost over the brow
And all those gone before.

Poem: The Clear Day

POEM - All the unbeknowing

The people that you meet
In the ether or on the street
All the aged and the youth
Every clicking of the buttons
Every minuscule decision
Does it bring you closer to your truth?

All the unbeknowing
All the words unflowing
All distracting us from what is real
Turn off the wire
Come by the fire
Sit in circles of loving feel

We are all over stimulated
From the cashiers blinking tirelessly
To the worst-case scenarios that are simulated
Filling electronic forms that have us tied in knots
Tot he passions pixelating firelessly
It’s us that have to prove we’re not robots

All the unbeknowning
All the words unflowing 
All distracting us from what is real
Turn off the wire
Come sit by the fire
Sit in circles of love and feel.

Poem: All The Unbeknowing

Away from the grumbling flyover
The headlights splash on cars in the dark
As they turn, revealing trees.
We turn our backs and head to the route
Lit by moonglow
Stepping over fallen branch 
And picking over steps in the night.
A pine tree lit gold in the distance
Trembling waving burning 
A living bonfire against the 
Hatching of bark and branch so dark
So dark that we might cross over like void
And come out on the other side
Where we can sit in the night
And see what it’s like
What if our elders could see us
Through the inky grid?
Would they be happy 
That we were thinking of setting foot?

While the shadow gridded twigs  on tarmac
Neatly twitching in the little wind
Tut-tutting, saying, “No passing through
You still have many golden things to do

Poem - Cross Over

POEM - Openings And Closings

The floor swept
The rugs rolled
The candles lit
The bowls of nuts and Bombay mic,
The air in the hall is hushed
Only kitchen sounds
And glasses clinking in arrangement.
Soon the door is opened to the evening air
And we gather to dance
To talk,
To listen
To reflect and breathe in 
Another life.
Amongst the revels
And the insight
And the laughs and the tears.
And the tears when we realise
It’s time.
And the coats are on
And goodbyes are said
Until the next,
Until the tapping of toes
Take us to your open floor.
But until then,
Let’s sweep the room
Shake the rugs
Smile at memories we’ve just made,
Crafting richness from the poor.

Poem - Openings And Closings

A recording of A Visit from St Nicolas (popularly known as 'Twas the night before Christmas) by Clement Clark Moore, read by Jamie Zubairi 

A Visit From St Nicholas - Clement Clarke Moore, Read by Jamie Zubairi.mp3

Tari Gopala at LSO St Lukes

A live version as it was first performed at Mairi Campbell's Ceilidh on the 28th of June 2020. Inspired by the words and music of the other artists that performed at the ceilidh. Written on the night, as they usually are

Poem - This Is The Language (live version)

Actor, Artist, VoiceOver Person, Theatre Maker, Poet, Photographer, looking to make his world a better place by making yours better.

jamiezoob

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