Open Poem

Today I had a morning which can only be explained by saying that my mind felt clogged by fuzz, the kind that gets stuck in your hoover. As part of this I dropped my purse at my local train station. This resulted in me going to Brighton and then having to come back to collect it as they apparently cut up the cards within an hour if you don’t collect it, strange, I know.

Anyway, I have written an open poem (my take on an open letter) about it because whilst karma was, on the whole, on my side she did have another trick up her sleeve.

I wrote this as a ‘cathartic-look-at-things-from-the-brightest-side’ so please know that I was speculating and it probably isn’t as clear cut as my own makes out!

Well, here goes:

An Open Poem to the Gent who handed in my purse
Dear Kind Gentleman,
Thank you for handing in my hand dyed purse with its fraying edges and memories attached,
Thank you for leaving the money withdrawers, the newly renewed car driving plastic, my train hopping card and my London tunnel diver,
And thank you for leaving the bits of shrapnel and emergency ear decorations at the bottom of it.
But to the thing I am not thankful for is the lack of the 3 green inked notes.
Now I really hope you enjoyed flicking through my things to extract those three things.
I really hope you have babes to feed, an elderly mother living with you, holey shoes or a need much greater than me.
For if you don’t, I really hope you know that Karma is not an easy friend when you take something that isn’t free.

© LE Purse

Wednesday 10th December

Unknown Influence

This came to me on the tube whilst connecting trains. It is a little dark and I have no idea where it came from but here it is, nonetheless.


Rapping on Our Door

Painted blue he stands among us,
Naked and waiting.
Waiting for what?
To be judged
And written about
To be ripped to shreds
And re-pasted
On to the wreath of the public door
Where Ebola, Malaysian immigrants, and FGM victims frequently knock
Until their knuckles become bloody and sore
Just to join the back of the queue.

© LE Purse

Sunday 7th December 2014

Beckoning Sleep

One as sleep takes me:

Dancing on the scores of painted puddles,
The orchestra comes to life.
The lift of a bow
And the stroke of a brush
Announce themselves
As companions of my lullaby.

© LE Purse

Tuesday 2nd December

Hand on Chest

Late evening short, enjoy:

Hand on chest,
on breath,
on heart,
on beat,
on soul.

©LE Purse
Sunday 30th November

Heads or Tails?


Original photo can be found here

Just wanted to share this before sleep takes me into another week. Lest we forget all those who fought as well as fought for what they believed in.

Hope you enjoy:

Heads or Tails?

A chant
A speech
A march;
A fist
A foot
A gun;
An act of heroism
An act of terrorism;
An act of freedom
An act of oppression;
Striving for life
Striving for death;
Striving for peace
Striving for war;
Flip a coin

Heads or tails?

© LE Purse

9th November 2014

A belated bonfire night ditty

Wednesday saw us celebrating Bonfire Night in Lewes. As my boyfriend, Matt, grew up in Sussex it is a place he used to go frequently. It was my first time and boy was my cherry taken!

It is always a controversial affair with burning effigies of not only Guy Fawkes but lots of political figures too. This year saw Putin and Alex Salmond being burnt. The people of Lewes, and Sussex, whole heartedly celebrate the fact that Guy Fawkes was thwarted in his attempt to blow up parliament and King Charles back in the day. So there’s lots of “What should we do?!” “Burn Him” shouting as well as “No Popery”. It is, in all honesty, harmless fun (unless a banger goes off in your face) and quite simply the best bonfire night I’ve ever been to.

This tiny ditty was written in the anticipation of the evening as we sat drinking mulled wine and Harvey’s beer by the river. Hope you enjoy:

Only in Lewes
Boarding up and shutting down
Gearing up for the sparking up
Rabbit fur hats and woollen wraps
Wood’s been collected and costumes on;

Victoria and a Viking,
The Pope and Guy
All to be carried in the raining lights
Through dogs and cats
Kids and the London Sussex lot.

For the lighting, the burning, the smelling and the seeing
A spectacle to behold and a beholding to be spectacled.

©LE Purse

Wednesday 5th November


A Putin Effigy


Crucifixes ablaze



Kite floating in the lake at the Golden Temple, Amritsar, India

The last couple of days I have slept terribly and had exceptionally vivid dreams. I’m clearly anxious about lots of things and so to get this in check (and to let poor Matthew sleep a bit better) I need to dip back into my meditation. By this I mean I need to commit to it, properly this time. It was a great help in the past and I need to ensure my mental health stays as positive as possible.

I’ve meditated 3 times since yesterday. Two out of the three times I listened to Shiva chanting and both times it inspired me to write. Today I gave in to the earning to write and came up with these two little pieces. I learned that mediation is for you, and you alone, and it can only be what you make of it.

Hope you enjoy:

Planted like a tree
my roots begging to dig deeper
my leaves crying to catch sunlight and rain
my buds aching to bloom

to colour the world

Colour Catcher
Kaleidoscopic colours
beneath my blinds
awakening the artist

letting in the rainbow.

Whetting my lips
with spiced jewels
tasting the calm

it echoes throughout me.

© LE Purse

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