You can listen to audio samples using the widget below or visit www.helnthomas.bandcamp.com
Me performing in a downpour, in the rainy city, during The Manchester International Festival 2009.
The day was quite clear and pleasant, but mysteriously every time I was asked to get up to perform a poem, the heavens opened!
What’s the point of earwax,
And the slime that’s up my nose?
Why can’t I plant a seed in there,
And see if something grows?
Why is my belly button
Full of fluff and goo?
Why do spilt spaghetti hoops
Stick to me like glue?
Why is there always custard
Dried upon my chin?
And why do I make so much gas
That’s better out than in?
Why is there always soil
And grass stains on my knees?
Why do my socks get scuffed with oil
And always smell like cheese?
Why is half the garden
Underneath my nails?
And why does my hair tangle
Like a mesh of mad rats’ tails?
Why is that place behind my ears
Always thick with grime.
And why is my grey, unwashed neck
Worse than any crime?
Where does all that dust come from
That’s in between my toes,
And why is there so much of it?
My Mum says that she knows
The reason I’m so grungy,
It’s a power I exert,
The muck’s attracted to me,
I’m a magnet for the dirt!
From 'We Are Poets!' Flapjack Press 2008.
On weekends and holidays, in all sorts of weather,
With swimsuits and wellies we go to the beach;
With buckets of upside-down sand we build castles,
And dig moats around them that fill up with sea.
We gather dry starfish as brittle as biscuits;
Driftwood sandpapered and washed by the waves;
Pebbles, glass smooth, shaped by years in the ocean;
We sift through the flotsam for shells in shy coves.
We ponder the rock pools and wonder of mermaids;
Tell tall tales of jellyfish stings and jump clear;
Dare to touch seaweed and dead crabs, so stinky,
Jabbing and jousting a snapped craggy claw.