The Stroft Chronicles By Charlotte SareĂąo Raymond
This is a collection of poems from ‘The Dirty Thirty Challenge’ by Charlotte Sareño Raymond. Each day of April, National Poetry Month, a new prompt is given during ‘The Dirty Thirty Challenge’. This collection of works seeks to capture the new wave of Charlotte’s writingcapturing the softness and strength of humanity, in resilience, sorrow, power, sombre sooth sonnets and sounds flowing off the page. May you be blessed with your own strength and softness. May you find yourself within ‘The Stroft Chronicles.’
Day 20- Free write A recipe for sombre Saturdays to yourself. Spend the entire day in the kitchen, Nourish yourself, And give thanks. Pull up the blinds, Open the window and breathe in freshly potted herbs and homemade essential oils. This freshly baked bread is your communion, It needs time to rise and so do your spirits. Give it time. Make banana ice cream as though you know there's just gotta be sunny days somewhere up ahead. If the water boils over the brim of the pot and blows out the flame, take a step back and try again. Give yourself a moment to sit down and breathe in the flavours of life. You have the whole day ahead of you. Dehydrate the potato, mash the potato, think of all the ways you could eat a potato. This is always guaranteed to make you smile. At the end of the day, drink a cold glass of water to keep you refreshed. Today your glass is not half empty or half full. Your cup is always refillable. April 20, 2019
Day 16- Letter to self I have cooked you food, Washed your clothes, Watered your plants, Changed your sheets. When you come home from work, You are free to relax. April 16, 2019
To the Free write Friday poem I did not post in time, I apologise. I had not charged my phone but I was recharging myself. I had gone to where the poets go, I felt love the way the poets love. I have listened and I have been heard. Words splatters on stages, in corners, in cars. I had gone to where the poets go. I had let my poetry come alive. April 26, 2019
Day 25- Alien Dear alien, Let me welcome you into my home. I would like to get to know your soul, Not what I've seen on the screens, Not what I've heard on the news. I want to hear it from you. I will break bread with you, Break barriers with you, I will give you a chance to speak your truth. Dear alien, I am sorry for how they portray you. I am sorry that you have been othered I am sorry that we cannot see that you walk among us. You are welcome to walk among us. Dear alien, You are welcome here if you wish to be here. You are home. April 25, 2019
Day 24- Song Lyric The thing about being chronically ill Is that when the tsunami hits the shore, When the hurricane sweeps the seas, When lightning strikes from the sky, When waves come crashing in, When the rain comes falling down, When the floods come flowing in, You do not drown. You do not sink. You learn to just keep swimming, For the show it must go on. 'My head is underwater, but I'm breathing fine.' Song: All of Me by John Legend April 24, 2019
Day 23- Haiku My boss is unwell So he takes the day off work. There is no leave for When your people are murdered And your country is silent. April 23, 2019
Day 19- The hated will die I would call you a cunt But you have no depth and warmth I would ask for your apology But you have no sense of consequence I would be the bigger person But I am only five foot tall May your death be long and painful. May agony put its hands down your throat Pull out your lungs Blow them up like balloons And pop them at your funeral. May you feel as you have made others feel. May your suffering be your penance. May you rest, so we can all be at peace. April 19, 2019
Day 14- New Life Witness Protection tells me I can be anything and anyone I want. I ask them to make me a middle class straight white man for what is more protective than privilege. April 14, 2019
Day 13- The job we need For every trans child who comes out to unaccepting parents, To every queer baby whose family status is revoked, To every non-binary teen who is misgendered by their peers, To every lesbian in the closet fearing they'll be kicked out of the family home, For every young unicorn trying to exist in a Catholic school, For every bisexual young man that society can't compute, For every lovely little queer who has been unwelcomed, Disapproved, Invalidated, Unloved Called faggot, dyke and poof, In need of a mother's warmth to tell them that they are embraced, accepted and loved, Let me welcome you with a hug, Turn on the kettle and make you some tea, Make you some rice and dhal and let you take as long as you need to eat it. I will wrap you in a blanket of my flannels, And sing you sweet songs to bring you to sleep. I will listen to you at the end of each day, Queer, questioning or outright gay, I will be the loving mother you never had, I will breathe in all your colours, And I would talk to you And tell you My darling, You are loved. April 13, 2019
Day 12- Free write A little pink girl In a little pink dress And her little pink shoes Drives a little pink Barbie mobile. The world with their little pink brains And their little pink pointing fingers Tells her her femininity makes her weak. So she unties that little pink ribbon Takes off that little pink dress And her little pink heart shrivels into a little pink ball. Pink turns to grey Grey turns to blue Blue turns to black. But in the darkness of that black and white world A grown woman grows Finds the spirit of that little pink girl And the little girl blows the lady a little pink kiss. She tells her her femininity and strength is defined by more than this She is not weak she never has been Strongly picks her a little pink flower and says Keep me in your mind In your words In your heart. A little pink woman Dons a little pink bow Carries a little pink bag Drives a little pink car Buys a little pink couch For her little pink house. The little pink woman Eats breakfast in a little pink bowl Whilst sitting in a little pink chair At a little pink table And watches the little pink flowers grow. April 12, 2019
Day 10- Doppelganger
There is a porn star who looks just like me. An ex's friend asked if she were me when I had left for overseas because that's all he could see An 'exotic' woman set to please his fantasies. I take no shame in my sexuality But I note the reality that Our bodies, and our cultures have been objectified for years. Must we bleed our cultural trauma for you to see us? For you to believe us, Must we always perform for you whilst you lap up our stories for your saviour complexes and anthologies of white guilt? Do you know the difference between my face and hers? Between her story and his? My doppelgangers are few and far between. I guess we all look the same to you. April 10, 2019
Day 9- Meditation A heavy chest Seeks to bring in holy air But today the air is met by phlegm floating by passageways. Try as I may my mind seeks to rest, My soul tries its best My ribs say, “Not today.” Every time I cough up a lung I wonder if a rib is broken And my heart mourns for the womb that birthed me. I had first learnt to meditate through prayer, But my Lilith lungs lost hope, Left the chapel, And took solace in quiet breaths, Quick groundings, And catching myself giving thanks. When my father broke Mum’s ribs She did not cry, She did not screamShe held silent And she prayed. In silent whispers she confides, “It could be worse.” I used to wonder why Mum would always Tend to the garden And I think I know nowShe meditates that way. Today my ribs carry a cold Where hers have carried callous Today I will meditate as she doesThrough the gaze of blooming petunias. April 9, 2019
Day 3- Unapologetic Mama says, “You looked so much prettier as a skinny girl”, Says, "It’s a shame to conceal those clavicles", Stares at my stomach a second too long, States I should cut down on carbs, Sees right through my towers of triumph, Sees only skin stashing away these bones.
Mama says I should speak to my father again. So I explain that pyromaniacs need to learn to stop setting fires in the first place, So I explain that sometimes the ropes that bind us to others end up chaffing at our wrists, So I explain that her doctrine of “What will people think?” is not my gospel or creed to preach. She turns her right side to me; Mama is deaf in one ear. She does not hear me. Mama sees that my waist is wasting away again in homage to my former glory and she wonders, “How can I encourage this?” So she buys me clothes in size 4 to remind me of what had once been, To inspire me to what I could be again. It is my 25th birthday. Mama, I understand that for you, fires must flourish for warmth to be found And you have set yourself on fire to keep others warm but I am not beholden to the wicked ways of the past. My piano is not firewood yet. Today’s sickness may be more silent than turmeric stained toilet bowls but tackling trauma from the guts takes guts, and there is no gastric band to keep my grit and grind contained. Mama, this skin is my armour against malice. Mama, this skin has not yet fought off the eating disorder but goddamn it will try. Mama I am a full bodied, Full grown, Fully fledged, Fully functioning phoenix set to spread her wings for flight,
The sprout of flowers blooming in the concrete jungle of foundations. I will grow. My heart is full. I will have my cake and eat it too. Mama, I am gorgeous. And so my fire woman, so are you. April 3, 2019
Day 15- Letter to my body my body rises each day And I see it and think 'Meh, okay'. On good days I am complacent, On bad days I look away. So I throw my body a question And ask her, 'How can I learn to love you? ' I have been wearing loser clothes, Eating less and working out more, I have bound my body in corsets, I have avoided the camera's gaze. Yet my feelings for you have not changed. So my love tell me, 'How can I learn to love you?' When the battle becomes too much, I binge and I wallow. My lover embraces this body with thanks And kisses each curve with longing and hope. Yet still I am unloving To this carcass of bones and heart I ask, 'How can I learn to love you?' She tells me, Turn on the shower and wash your worries clean, Breathe in each scar, each curve, each cracking arthritic bone, Exhale the belief that your body is invalid, Exhale the belief that modification is the only path to love When you ask me, 'How can I learn to love you?' I will plea, Please embrace me just as I am, Please hold me like a mother holds her baby, Please nurture me and protect me, Please love me without hesitation, For I am enough. April 15, 2019
I kept giving pieces of myself to the world so I could never hold it together. I learnt to leave before I was left, lust but not love hellhound On the belief all good things come to an End. A childlike heart encased in bones Coddles itself, the object permanence Beats to rhythmic footsteps of you Leaving and though you tell me That you'll stay when you carry Grief In your gut you learn To always fear and expect To lose what you have So you never learn What it's like to Be met with Goodbye. April 8, 2019
Day 4- Apology Dearest Lottie, Sorry I forgot to take my meds. Again. The greatest form of apology is changed behaviour. I will try to do better. Again. Affectionately yours, affectionately ours, Char. April 4, 2019
Day 29- April 29 2017 my best friend of 19 years Eats meat in every meal, Attends church every Sunday, Never curses, And seldom drinks. Yet she will share a meal With this vegan, Burlesque dancing Bisexual Sitting on the pews of Naked for Satan. I know that in food we Still find our common ground Built in sand pits And lunchboxes. I would never suggest we Get falafel from some hipster cafe And spit on her grandmother's legacy And she knows that dal is As darling to me as the days In dark classrooms we spent together. All differences apart, We share the common truth That fine lines are drawn In digesting bloodlines And whilst meals are meant to be shared Cultures are not built to Serve tongues That deny the tongues Of our mothers.
April 16, 2018 to the queer queens Who are told you are not Queer or queen enough To claim your throne, You are enough.
April 10, 2018 when you have a big presence, Or when you have a big heart, Sometimes people forget That your big hands Need holding too.
April 8, 2018 being an ethnic woman On screens and on stages Feels like shattering the glass ceiling But feeling as though You’re expected to Clean up the glass Afterwards as well.
April 30, 2017- read the poem both ways Close your eyes Don't deny the cocoons that call you. Wrap yourself up in rebirth For now Be that butterfly again One day you will feel those butterflies again That will bring new prospect to life. Use regret as fertiliser Wrap yourself up in potential But these butterflies are the result of cocoons of yourself coming to life. Squashing caterpillars Crushing butterflies in your hand My dear, some of your problems are your fault You are still a caterpillar squirming out of situations like these. There is no noble way to say that you are chasing different rainbows And her plans are too removed. And your paths are too erratic Try as you may, these butterflies will cease But these butterflies are the result of cocoons of yourself coming to life. You will claim that this love is nothing more than indigestion, This happiness is like the tiny green sprout in the gravel parking lot of your heart. Open your eyes.
April 13, 2017 My Tombstone Here lies a woman free from lies Here lies the heart that no longer bleeds rivers of pain Here lie hands that helped, held others, and reached for her own hand to be held. Here lie legs that journeyed far and wide, stretched far and wide, from mountains, to men, to irreplaceable moments in time. Here lie the eyes that opened to the power of truth and time but now close with the truth that all time does end. Here lies hair full of secrets, here lie strands that have tasted all colours of the wind. Here lies a belly built for both bread and babies Here lies feet that have graced a thousand soles, carried the burden of a thousand souls. Here lies lips that speak no more, taste no further, Here lies a body that learnt to be the bigger person, Even though she was only 5 foot tall.
April 8, 2017 Why is it That even in movies of my mind I cast myself as the maid Instead of the starring role?
April 2 Defiant is the heart that loves Even when every chord plucked before this has been a heartstring played out of tune. Now the rhythms beat strong through my veins And the capillaries dance wild with my blood Defiant is the heart that loves Not knowing it will ever stop beating.