Polar poetry by Kaddy Benyon
During the Festival of Ideas, a poet based in the Scott Polar Research Institute, Kaddy Benyon led two workshops at our 'Ghostly Thrills' drop in day on 31 October 2012. Below are the two poems written during the workshops as well as one constructed from the words and images put in our poetry suggestion box, out in the gallery next to the polar dressing up box during for the duration of the festival.
Jumbled Up, Tumbled Up
If you really want to know
how it feels to explore
the ice-capped axes of the world,
step inside my snow boots
heavy as boats, slip on
my thermals, my fleece, dungarees.
Bulky and strange, tight and hot,
try walking in the cold air,
try talking, working, taking
a pee. The winds are so deadly
you have to duck down
low, but there are lights here
that dance and swirl and stars close
enough to touch. So why
not ease your chilled fingers
from mitts hot as oven gloves
(but don't think of your
mother basting a Sunday roast,
or your lover picking sweet, ripe
plums in the summer sun)
but peer through my goggles
to protect your dazzled eyes, cover
your ears with the flaps
of this rabbit-fur hat, and tread
softly-softly through this snow-dome
land which shivers and turns
everything you know upside down.
* This poem was written using the words and images put in the poetry suggestion box in the museum gallery during the Festival of Ideas.
The Snow King
Let me imagine you far from here
oh polar bear, spread-eagled on the floor.
Your soft, wide pelt now cleaned
or bleached, your giant teeth blunted
by hunger. I gnaw around my nails
as I imagine your dull eyes bright
again, ice beads spangling your fur,
the heft and quake as you rear then lunge
to toss spray-flecked salmon from holes
punched in ice; pin wriggling silvers
to the snow's glittering crust and wait
eagerly for each final, breathless pulse.
* This poem was written in response to the polar bearskin displayed on the wall in the lecture theatre at the Scott Polar Research Institute during the morning poetry workshop on 31 October 2012.
Little Diver
She's about to dive away from me
this pretty, pea-green seal.
Her tail, a twist of frozen spinach
melts in the roiling waters
as she slips seamlessly from iceberg
to slush, to sea. One flick,
a splash and a lollop
and she'll vanish from me, darting
between echo and shadow:
playthings in her icy, marbled deep.
* This poem was written in response to the small green seal, one of four sculptures in the handling collection at the Scott Polar Research Institute during the afternoon poetry workshop on 31 October 2012.