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Creative Women's Network UK |
Rachel has appeared at:
Montrose Folk Club (fortnightly) Her works have been published in print by:
Self published book (Crowd-pleasers Press)
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Now available'More about the song'
ISBN:978-0-9559220-0-8 Published by Crowd-pleasers Press on 6th June 200880 pages
all printed on recycled paper and card using vegetable inks.
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Poetry by Rachel Fox
Born and raised in the North of England, Rachel Fox now lives on the Angus coast in Scotland. After school she studied languages and then proceeded to never use any of them whilst working in a random series of jobs (with lots of no-job breaks in between). She has worked in advertising, market research, retail, education, journalism and as a DJ in a lot of sweaty nightclubs. Currently she works at home, looking after the family and writing. She has written poems since about 1997 and been telling people about it since about 2003. She has published poetry postcards and reads her poems in public regularly. Always a huge music fan, some of her poems have been turned into songs with tunes and they often form part of the performance somehow or other. Her first book of poems 'More about the song' was published in 2008. See Rachel's website at www.crowd-pleasers.net
D Days
Some days Words appear Like presents I don’t deserve (Or do I?) Some days I see nothing Feel less I can’t help it (Can I?) Some days I watch TV It’s easy All I’m good for (Is that right?) Some days I gloom And pick my head It annoys me (So why’s that?) Then some days I write and Write and It never amounts to (Nothing right?) And some days I just try To be normal But that won’t work (It never does) So some tired days I don’t try Anything I just play dead (And I’m quite good at it)
City girl
She gave it her best Shot She threw herself in Wholeheartedly She loved the tarmac Rolled on pavements Into gutters She poked her fingers into Exhaust pipes And licked them clean She stayed out all night Because there's nothing so shitty As the 24 hour city She didn't cleanse Tone or moisturise Let urban grime Care for her complexion She stood In the thick of it And rubbed her eyes She rubbed the dirt Right in She ate filth Not hard this day and age More chemicals More fat As saturated as it comes please She took up passive smoking As a hobby She washed her clothes You'd never know
A little sh
Words speak For me They even sing Or bark It's nothing That I have No voice For words Will bring Their own Sound in
My way
A family of women Of strong opinion Is never quiet for long Each one has her say Each day in some way And no one admits to being wrong
Dads army
In combat trousers Some long Some short They wear the modern camouflage For parks and play areas It's a must The beige and grey and khaki green Nice modern men blend in Avoid unnecessary conversations Mums can't seem to dodge so well These are the loaded guns “He's very small isn't he?” “Does she eat fruit?” “Oh,an only child”
Shaven heads Sunglasses Trainers in winter Maybe risking open sandals In summer But in a neutral colour Dads keep their mouths closed Their eyes and ears open Not at war but always prepared They don't fall in traps Mums could learn a lot from their approach No hearts on sleeves No nervous wittering No defensive play Just cropped heads steady Resolve firm No time wasted We're here to play, kids So play
Sweet nothings
You are nothing I am less Let's admit it We're a mess
Middle Point
I am still that girl Who once put music first I'm not so far gone Though my face is creaking Round my chin the worst
I still spring a step Have some vigour yet Can still survive the night Dance on a beach Get my clothes all wet
I am not giving in Not being ruled by Next Not complaining about my man Going on diets Doing quizzes about being under or being oversexed
I may not danger sport I may not Nobel prize But I'm still going Still going my way The funny, slow and not-sure-why way Much to my surprise
A wedding poem (not to be read at weddings)
Oh, another girl in big frock Oh, another suited groom Oh, another messy, lost flock Oh, another sense of doom
Oh, another huge tiara Oh, foundation everywhere Oh, the bride looks like her father Oh, those looks weren’t made to share
Oh, another hundred places Oh, another chicken dish Oh, just look at those grim faces Oh, they should have gone for fish
Oh, I bet they all want ABBA Oh, except that fierce young man Oh, he’ll want early Nirvana Oh, that’s not the thing for Gran
Oh, are weddings ever special Oh, they can just merge as one Oh, they can be simply dreadful Oh, may my day never come
© Rachel Fox, 2008. |
