The urge to create is universal. As a yoga teacher, I have been tapping into this universal source for more than twenty years and as an actor, since the tender age of five.
In May 2006 I wrote my first poem, inspired, I suppose, by the same spirit that has driven my yoga and creative dance classes for so many years. Experience is slowly teaching me about the technique of writing poetry and giving me the confidence to experiment with different forms, but the initial creative springboard has never changed and continues to fill me with awe.
I feel humbled when I read comments on my work and excited when I am able to offer the occasional insightful one on other ... more »
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Alison Cassidy Poems
Wild Geese by Mary Oliver
You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body
My First Orgasm
it wasn't for want of regular experimenting, but somehow
A Pocketful of Sympathy
A pocketful of sympathy Is really rather wonderful To stop a scratch from stinging Or a bruise from black and bluing
A Moisty Under Milkwood Morning
On this moisty Under Milkwood morning I walked buoyantly, briskly through late summer bush.
A Son Is Born
I place the peonies on the windowsill - a perfect present for the new mum, flushed and furry-eyed on the unmade bed.
I LOVE RED
RED balloon floating through frames of Thirties celluloid
! ! Mother's Last Mothers Day
And on that last Mothers Day, when the birch leaves fluttered pale gold, and the magpies chortled
Crisp morning Walking the dog The sky blushes with russet light
! ! A Practical Kind of Loving
Your perfume lingers on my clothes, like the image of your small determined face. You watched me hug him – your husband of sixty odd years;
! ! Dancing with Dylan
He is propped on all fours when I arrive - almond eyes grave, face strangely serious.
Sad is Stupid
I'm sorry you're sad 'I'm not sad. Don't use that word.
A Nonsense Poem - a Villanelle
A little mouse sings in a bowl A little fish runs on a wheel A little worm hops in a hole
Her Name was Madge
Rum-balls and marzipan announced her appearance every Christmas in those far-away tinselly days
! ! Aging with Grace?
The temperature was pushing forty as we limped into the swanky cafe - air-conditioned, thank God! The patronage was mostly middle class
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
Wild Geese by Mary Oliver
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world ...