Poems and images taken from the “Poetry 4 Grenfell: Voices From Da Grove & Latimer” book (c) Kamitan Arts ltd. All rights reserved. No images or poems to be duplicated or published commercially or for profit by any means without prior written permission from Kamitan Arts.
Contact: ka.1@hotmail.co.uk
We are more than happy for you to share and use material always outlining and tagging @KamitanArts and @Poetry4Grenfell
My Will By Hesham Rahman My Will, For who will remember me one day. Remember my presence before my departure. To see a smile on your face when I'm gone. A prayer from your heart, no tears or sadness near my grave. If we shared a memory that's in your heart, Always remember it with a smile, For who will remember me one day, Remember my presence before my departure.Egyptian Grenfell Resident, RIP - Written February 2016
Ability Kinetic Kizitta (Kizitta Anning) Ability is Opportunity Grab it in its Entirety Express it in Simplicity Ability gives Chances For Destiny Ability isn’t Vanity When Explored for Growth Ability Defines your Identity Let the Opportunity Bring you Unveiling Possibilities Adorned with Grace You will understand That Ability is an Immense Opportunity Poet, Singer, Inspirational Speaker, Performance Artist, Fashion Statement
Beside The Fallen Ashes By Monera Takla Wash it away with rain Wash it away with heavy rain Thundering on my window panes Throw the flowers away the cards that go on for yards Hide it in blue builder's plastic Ashes falling like fallen soldiers from the second world war On to my neighbour's gardens The lost and fallen from the tower Flowering into the gardens below Blowing away with the wind Walking past, not so fast Old pictures of local families No longer here to sit and drink their tea up there Here we watch on listening to local MPS singing their song Who’s to blame they say? Yet help is delayed yet, another day Blame, blame, blame every which way Years of neglect government has to pay Hide ‘em in hotels Maybe try move ‘em to the end of the country if you let 'em They won't let you forget them This is not the end my friend Our community will heal one day But we ain't never walking away Beside the fallen ashes. 39, origin is English mother and Egyptian father. Born and raised in London. Lost my younger brother 21 last year, which inspired my poetry.
Black Block By Toby Laurent Belson Black block Silhouette of pain in the sky Black block Soaking up the rain as we cry Black block Reminding us of things we have lost Black block Showing us the struggle's real cost Black block Ash and debris blowing in the wind Black block Worry ‘bout what we are breathing in Black block Children's dreams are filled with the shadow Black block Parents dreams are crippled by the sorrow Black block The beauty of our people never dies Black block You'll see it when you look into our eyes Black block Just take a moment breathe and look beyond Black block In front of you is what you thought was gone Black block Cos even when its gone it will remain Black block Things round here can never be the same Local resident, artist, poet, activist (Green for Grenfell).
HOW CAN I TELL YOU TO WIPE YOUR TEARS? Harriet Gore How? How? How can I tell you? How can I tell you to wipe your tears? When I haven’t wiped mine It is not the failings that draw tears from my eyes, for fallibility is a human condition and characteristics It is not the failure to listen that keeps the tears flowing, for obstinacy is a human condition and the characteristics of diversity It is not anger that I feel, for my well of deep is flowing out reflections The depth of deaths, no shallow can reveal Everything was so perfectly aligned and allied, for the most devastating catastrophe The weather, the time, midnight and other factors Like a natural disaster that was unnatural Like a forest fire that was in a city Like a shipwreck happening in a block When it is death Sometimes questions appear Why like this? Died too young Oh, why now? Who has the answers? No one knows the answers No answers know Except that tears keep flowing At first I cried for the dead Their dreams and hopes and aspirations Then I cried for the living, for the tears shed for the dead In every tragedy, it is ourselves we cry for Even when we cry for the dead and for the living The dead do not need our tears It is us who need healing It is us who need our tears The healing water which empties into the ocean of grief To resurrect and to water, to moisten and to make fertile the heaving soil To germinate seeds of hopes, dreams and aspirations which the dead have become The manure which sprout spring when the first rain falls The dead do not know they are dead, this is a consolation Like that deep sleep when consciousness is lost And all become nothing until consciousness returns It is the living who know they are dead and cry for own selves and feel for the dead what the dead does not feel The dead are sleeping seeds, they are spreading scents, they are evaporating into you and I and the space around The dead have become the air we breathe, the words we disperse, they have expanded into the expanse nothingness, they have become the seeds which will germinate when the first rain falls Is this a consolation? A consolation for the dead or for the living? You see beloved one Death is part of the story The story on earth The story earth tells Tells about life Life about death Life is about death Death is the destination of life Once born, the destination is death Death happens, just like life Life is born just like death Life is about living until death happens Life is about occupying, engaging, serving, entertaining and feeding all our senses as best as we can until death happens Each death happens in its own way Death is death There is no uniform way of dying Just as there is no uniform way of being born Some are born by caesarean section and some are born legs first Some are born short and others born long Some appear with hair and others appear bald Some weigh 3kg and some 5kg at birth When it is birth, joy appears on some faces There is no one perfect time to be born just as there is no one perfect time to die No uniformity in birth and none in death Each appears uniquely and disappears uniquely Each enters this space in own way And exists and exits as circumstances create The present (here) is a story The earth is a place of story telling There is a life story and a death story Some beginnings are exciting and some end in intrigue Some leave quietly, some leave with a bang Some lives are brief, some lives are long What do we know, except, to question? Who knows the answers? Who knows why the flowers appear when they do and drop dead when they do Life is a story, telling itself, in its own way Birth is part of the story and so is death Some deaths are dramatic, some peaceful and some are earthquakes appearing on the landscape Volcanoes too and storms and sea wrecks That is life, the life of a story, the life that is a story I am listening to the sound when there is no sound Except the sound of this The thought that when entries are made into this space, many do not ask questions about the appropriateness of the entries But when exits are made, many questions become born and appear to be asked I write not to give hope for I have no hope to give I write not to give comfort for I have no comfort to give I only write to exhibit the me unseen And reveal the conversation I have been having with myself And the stream of tears which have become tributaries The rivers of trails warming their way through So how can I tell you to wipe your own tears, when I have not yet wiped mine? How can I tell you that all will be well, when what was can never be is? The many lives lost, a community in pain Property can be replaced, but can new take the place of old? Those who have gone, can they return? How can I tell you to wipe your tears, when I have not wiped mine? An invitation to write? The question appears to be written? What is the purpose of this writing? Why write at all? To give hope? To console and to comfort? To be on record as being a part of the many? To tell people what they already know? To make the difference only words make? To express thoughts and add a voice? To answer the call and support a beloved one? To tell you to wipe your tears, when I have not yet wiped mine? To tell you that those who have gone, have become the formless writing the form you see? In life, life is contained, in the form of forms Outside that container, the form is formless spanning endless Look at that form expanding into formless What is it that is written in that distance? “Some lives are long, some lives are brief? The lives appeared, in form, the containers of life? Outside the form, the formless expands? Made in different forms, many become one book? And the book of forms has become the formless unseen?” You see beloved one The formless has begun to write In you and in me Not just through words But through thoughts and all expressions In what is said And what is unsaid In the formless words In the ink of the tears So how can I tell you to wipe your tears, when the tears themselves are the writings they wrote and the first raindrops to give life and make fertile, bringing forth spring, the diverse rainbow How can I tell you to wipe your tears, when even at this moment I have not wiped mine? Why wipe your tears when tears are still determined to flow? Why stop your questions, when questions are still determined to be heard? Why did it happen? How? Remember beloved one, it is not anger that I feel, for my well of deep is flowing out reflections Everything was so perfectly aligned and allied, for the most devastating catastrophe The weather, the time, midnight and other factors Like a natural disaster that was unnatural Like a forest fire that was in a city Like a shipwreck happening in a block Leaving tears flowing in its wake So how can I tell you to wipe your tears, when I have not yet wiped mine? I will wipe my face when there are no more tears flowing through LOVE TO YOU ALWAYS LOVE TO ALL ALWAYS – Version 7 August 2017 by Harriet Gore, Founder Touch LOVE Worldwide Written specially for inclusion in the ‘Poetry4Grenfell compilation book’. Special thanks to beloved Emmanuelle Marcel whose invitation inspired the creation of this work.
En los Ojos Yago Soto-André (YogiBeAr.E) ***** In your I's Eye see mine. In your arms We hold the Time That gives birth to Love that Waters the flames Into flowers. I see in your eyes The demise But in between The cries I hear power, Not death. Love, Not greed. Life, In play. Yo juego pero No. No pude mas, Y me quemaron Los ojos por ello, Mis queridos los Arrancaron de su BLOCK Por sus cuentas de Vajo costes THEY FELL. Pero volamos mas vajo Mas alto llega el Amor. Me costo Volver Pero aqui me encuentro En vuestras Miradas Me veo en vuestros ojos, I see mySelf in your Eyes Beyond the lies, Apareci en vivo En los corazones de mis Queridos y queridas. And in our hearts Our loved ones Live on Thriving on Love Not hate. Not fear. Let the hurt burn to Ashes And sprinkle the dust Onto a canvas till Our hearts Bleed no more, No more insulation Around our pain, More love outspoken Plain, In the arts of living, Please Rest in love and Peace Loved ones And all in between. ***** Local Resident, Poet, Activist
Mehtageen Taghyeer محتاجين تغيير (We Need Change) By EmpresS *1 الامبراطورة الاولي Mehtageen Taghyeer fel wad3 el ehna fee Mehtageen Taghyeer fel wad3 el ehna fee محتاجين تغير في الوضع اللي احنا فيه Daroori we mengher takheer lel wad3 el ehna feee Mehtageen Taghyeer fel wad3 el ehna fee ضروري ومن غير تأخير للوضع اللي أحنا فيه، محتاجين تغير في الوضع اللي احنا فيه We Need Change to the situation that we’re in We Need Change to the situation that we’re in Urgently and without delay To the situation that we’re in We Need Change to the situation that we’re in! Through… El Hob LOVE El 3adl JUSTICE El Tafahom UNDERSTANDING El Salaam PEACE El Ehteraam RESPECT El Etihad UNITY El Musawah BALANCE El Horeya El Horeya El Horeya!!! FREEDOM FREEDOM FREEDOM!!!!! Mehtageen Taghyeer fel wad3 el ehna fee Mehtageen Taghyeer fel wad3 el ehna fee محتاجين تغير في الوضع اللي احنا فيه Daroori we mengher takheer lel wad3 el ehna feee Mehtageen Taghyeer fel wad3 el ehna fee ضروري ومن غير تأخير للوضع اللي أحنا فيه، محتاجين تغير في الوضع اللي احنا فيه ~*~ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ![]()
Excerpt of poem/song originally written, recorded and filmed during and after the Egyptian Revolution by @EmpresS1Egypt © 2011-2012. We Need Change Music Video Taken from the “Poetry 4 Grenfell: Voices From Da Grove & Latimer” book KamitanArts.com
Poems and images taken from the “Poetry 4 Grenfell: Voices From Da Grove & Latimer” book (c) Kamitan Arts ltd. All rights reserved. No images or poems to be duplicated or published commercially or for profit by any means without prior written permission from Kamitan Arts.
Contact: ka.1@hotmail.co.uk
We are more than happy for you to share and use material always outlining and tagging @KamitanArts and @Poetry4Grenfell