Who Am I? (Performance Poem)

This is a performance poem rather than a page poem and I will be filming and uploading a video of the performance in the coming few days!

Who am I?

Who am I?

I am all of the magazines I ever read,

all of the articles that told me

I was a nervous girl

waiting to become a empowered woman.

All of the pictures telling me

what I like to wear, how I like my hair,

and what every girl is doing with their 'downstairs'.

I am the music I listen to.

I am Beyonce, Taylor Swift

I'm the Beatles and Panic! At the Disco.

You say goodbye, and I say hello.

I am all of the guys that ever

tried to touch me in a club.

I'm all the 'don't be shy's,

and, 'It's no big deal's.

All the guys who don't care

how I feel.

I am all the shoes I've ever owned.

I'm my first pair of trainers

with the light in the sole,

I'm my first pair of heels as a teen,

my first party I went to in them,

and all of the regrets in between.

I am all the colours I have dyed my hair,

I'm the accidental yellow,

I'm that happy blue,

I'm the 'notice me please' pink

and all the off colour hues.

I am all the posters I put on my walls,

I'm the pictures in frames

of my family, my friends.

I'm the pictures of ex boyfriends

tossed in the bin,

I'm all of the bullies

I swore wouldn't win.

I am my mum's eyes, her nose, her mouth.

I am my dad's coarse hair,

his refusal to back down.

I am my brother's practical jokes,

the frights, the trips, the scuffed knees, the brawls.

I'm the fights, the tricks, the crying, the falls.

I am the days I forget my coat

when the rain catches me on the way home,

I am the way it makes my make-up run down my face

and the way it permeates my skin.

I am the sunny days where the rays

seem to penetrate the haze

and burn from the inside out

as if my flesh was paper thin.

I am my arms, my legs, my hands, my head.

I am my lips, my hips, my brain, my breasts.

 I am all of the teachers that I had crushes on.

All the popstars, rockstars, celebrities

I ever obsessed over.

I'm all of the Spice Girls rolled into one

and all of the songs that they ever sung.

I am all the people who spoke patronisingly.

I'm loud, quiet, planned and spontaneous.

I am everything that people thought I could never be.

I have defied everything to be here and I am Me.

By Samantha Boarer

I'm Just Here for the Warmth

I’m Just Here for the Warmth.

I’m just here for the warmth,
The safety, the loving base,
I’m not here for drama,
To argue, or put on a face.
I just want to be with you,
To rock in pure simplicity.
Giving me fresh eyes, helping me

to recognise what I did not see.
And I promise in return for this
That I’ll love you infinitely
And I’ll always know by your kiss
That love for us is easy.
So I’m not here to be coarse
I’m just here for the warmth.

The Bed In response to Le Lit by Toulouse-Lautrec.

The Bed

In response to Le Lit by Toulouse-Lautrec.

Imagine the comforting embrace of safety.

Blanket up to their necks,

there together,

together in the soft hazel hue

coming from a protective doorway.

It listens when they sleep,

a portal to a breaking world

they are untroubled with.

Her eyes closed,

head on the pillow that

catches the dreams

which threaten to run away with her.

A dreamer of love,

chains of silver and gold,

in a world un-holstered.

He watches her through

half closed eyes,

watches the blush in her cheeks

blossom like spring daffodils

while falling into his own imagination.

His love spreads

like crimson blood across the bed

that soaks it up,

holds it for her,

until she wakes and realises

it has warmed her all night.

Their hands, their feet,

their faces, sleeping together,

safe from questions, from knowledge.

Safe from the need to know everything.

We strive in the day time

to be all the things we should,

running headlong into danger

as it embraces us,

then throws us away,

screwed up like litter,

while at night we sleep an innocent

childhood sleep,

that keeps us safe

from the hellions in the daylight.

By Samantha Boarer