Poems and Paint: Stitching Balloons

By Vivien Harris

WHAT IS POETRY? Perhaps it’s about sharing the emotions and events of an imperfect life.

WHAT IS LIFE? Ah! Ask each of the 7.8 billion individuals on the planet and they’ll all tell you a different story. Vivien’s story begins with stitching a burst balloon.

JOY, LOSS, SORROW, HELP, HOPE, DESPAIR, LOVE, CHEER, WISDOM

One day, when she had just turned 4, Vivien experienced all these emotions, in that order. This seemingly simple incident would set the stage for the life which lay ahead.

All her poems are in some way related to this event.

Brightly-coloured balloons sometimes burst; some gradually deflate; but others will spring your step.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Aug 31, 2021
• ISBN: 9781398443426

Vivien Harris

Vivien Harris was born happy, the daughter of a farm worker. She largely escaped formal education in England. She was brought up in spontaneity; taught abroad in New York City, Los Angeles and Saigon by curiosity; tutored by emotion and an innate sense of justice. Then, cloistered too long in Swiss domesticity, she was liberated by writing, and teaching English as a foreign language to people from all walks of life in Geneva, where she has lived for over 40 years.

Book preview

Lines And Colours

A box, a metal box

Six colours and a paintbrush

A chipped cup, full of water

No blank piece of paper

A colouring book

Stay within the lines

NO!

Look how nicely your brother paints

NO!

Little children don’t have purple hair

And water’s blue, not yellow

The wall was white

My fingers were yellow

A little dip in the cup

Round and round

more paint

Sunny, sunny sun

One yellow sun

Two yellow suns

Three yellow suns

And me, red … ORANGE! and blue …GREEN!

Magic colours!

My lovely magic Mummy

My lovely …BROWN! kitty

I’ll get my little stool

There’s my Daddy digging in the sky

And my brother at the gate

Smaller than me

My lovely pretty wall

Mummy screamed

Ran for the Ajax

I cried

with my teddy

in my room till teatime

I still can’t find my paints

Lines

They made you paint in colouring books

They made you write on lines

If you step on a nick

You’ll marry a stick

Their lines

Never mine

Lines in music books

Lines to learn

Lines to draw

With a ruler

Lines on arrows

Lines on signs

Thin lines

Thick lines

Always straight

Lines to punish

And confine

I think it must be

Because I’ve got curly hair

Sea Glass

Sea glass, glass sea

Hard and soft

Waves sway and swell

Jagged edges on their lengthy journey

Beaten in brine

Never ending

Tossing, lifting

To come crashing

Splashing

Smooth and polished

Warm and shining

On the summer sand

Creative Writers’ Group

If A Writer you’re hoping to be

Go along to G W G

Get yourself on the club list

And soon you’ll be published