the poet
Having grown up in London then studied Human Geography at Sheffield University, poet Francesca L Rolle now lives in Clevedon, UK. She has a lifelong interest in poetry, and recently rekindled her love of writing – exploring in particular how her life experiences can be unpacked, examined and better understood on the page. Francesca has had work published in places such as Epistemic Literary and Unwhispered Legacy from The Book Bag X Write Here, Right Now.
the poems
Problem Blood
I don’t know my blood type,
I should give blood and find out,
They wouldn’t want your blood,
It's problem blood, you joke,
But it stings,
With the memories of steroids, tests, needles,
Hours spent shuffling from one windowless waiting room to another,
Hematopoietic cells course with pain
That flows out onto the page as poetry.
Red ink runs into contours on a map of my impurities,
As the doctors chart paths and carve me up,
Divide and conquer,
They ignore my native knowledge and tell me they know better,
My land left pillaged when they can’t agree
On how to piece together the key.
I still don’t know my blood type,
Don’t want to risk the rejection,
Find further confirmation, that the battered body I call home,
Is a doll set to be discontinued,
Malformed, and unfit to be played with.
Drain my blood, and return my body to the ground,
It's problem blood, and it’s a problem body,
So who cares that it’s the sacred vessel
That carries in it my precious soul?
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Amphora
Some days I feel like honey / sweet, thick, ripe for the taking /
Plundered / bounty stolen / an amphora in a museum /
longing to be filled with wine / to fulfil my purpose.
Feel Real
The wires of connections that we make, that we fray,
day by day, we’re tripping, tripping, tripping.
Over the pavements and curbs, the paths that we choose,
the winding routes and swerving curves.
Placated by imagery, hammered to the backs of our retinas,
we’re tripping, we’re tripping, we’re tripping.
In boxes we’ve built, in our heads, in our hearts,
can you feel it? It's all falling apart.
Faultless lines from here to there,
from A to X we choose to communicate in a constant placebo of relationships.
Our flaws, our falsities, our thinly threaded together communities,
at the flick of a switch, at the push of a button, stop, stop.
The intricate connectivity of the biological, the natural,
the Earth as it rotates beneath our feet, beneath our roots,
through each beat, each rhythm that meets, we meet. Let’s meet.
I want to dance with the wind, feel afloat on the breeze,
take me anywhere, take me everywhere.
The salt spray clawing at my cheeks, let me feel,
the thistles digging into my feet, let me feel,
the ice-cold crash of water against my chest, let me feel.
Feel real, feel free, wild animal let me be.
Publishing credits
All poems: exclusive first publication by iamb