RSS Feed


Posted on

Welcome to Day 29 of the April Write 2013: a new era begins

I believe that all things are connected and that each of us by coming to this page share a special kind of kinship which goes beyond the boundaries of a single month. We are not here because we want to show that we are the best or to gain adulation or praise but because one woman, Angela Edgar, had a big idea to create a space were the love of an art form could be shared. As she has said “she wanted to create a place where people from many different backgrounds can come together in the name of poetry to create something wonderful”. So, we came, we saw, read, shared, encouraged and inspired each other. Such is this place that the ethos that it is built on resounds in every comment and every read. 

Today I have taken the liberty of standing as the last guest host of this year’s challenge.As such wish to introduce you to a painting I have just finished entitled

Hands Which Connect #1′.



The topic for today is: “Hands Which Connect”

I wanted to show you this piece in a video as it like most things I paint map part of the journey of discovery I am undertaking, a journey which the April Write holds a special part and place in. 

Watch the video here to see the painting in its different stages

The topic of hands was chosen as my left hand was the first thing I felt comfortable drawing and painting as a child, also because hands to be appear to have a language all of their own. 

Hope you enjoy my work and that you are inspire to write, paint or draw you choose. 

~ Marina



4 responses »

  1. Donna Parkinson (c) April 2013

    Hands which connect…

    Reach out and take my hand,
    With me,
    Feel the energy,
    Flowing from me to you,
    Even the most fleeting of connections,
    Can tell you so much about a person,
    Yes…That transient touch,
    That momentary union,
    Can bring forth such enigmatic,
    That it can tie people together,
    Or rip them apart,
    Something as simple as a touch,
    Can seal a deal,
    It can break a bone,
    A touch can wipe away a tear,
    Or it can start a war,
    And one touch can heal a nation,
    Or start a revolution,
    There is so much power at our fingertips,
    That we are moments away from greatness,
    Seconds away from freedom,
    Minutes away from victory
    As no one can defeat,
    Hands which connect,
    In peace, love and unity..

  2. Zita Holbourne (c) April 2013


    He couldn’t breath
    Couldn’t believe
    This was happening
    They were suffocating
    As his life flashed before
    He asked himself why, what for?
    Because he was black, young, wearing a hood?
    Why did the police assume he was up to no good?
    As he felt his body giving in, getting weaker
    He prayed in desperation not as a believer
    But just when he had accepted as fate his death
    An answer to his prayer came as he gasped for breath
    The hands placed around his body
    Were warm and gentle, firm and steady
    They connected with an older pair of hands
    Lifted him up and helped him stand
    Too weak to walk the hands carried
    They’re movements urgent and hurried
    They landed in a heap six hands six feet
    In one massive synchronised heart beat
    The hands connected once again
    The two rested his head against an aged tree trunk then
    He heard the roars
    Of anger soar
    Soundtrack of sirens screech
    He heard a voice high and loud preach
    No Justice! No Peace!
    No Justice! No Peace!
    One hand connected to a loud hailer
    The other raised high in a fist of anger
    Or maybe strength and determination
    It seemed to give the gathering crowd inspiration
    His breathing was started to regulate now
    He strained his neck to see why and how
    They’d come so bravely to his rescue
    Saving him from the boys in blue
    Wondering at this act of humanity
    Still shocked by the reality
    Of what might have been
    Struck that people who didn’t know him
    Would put at risk their own safety
    It really got to him emotionally
    But now the shouts were urgent, faster
    He sensed danger and disaster
    Could see riot police charging towards them
    Tried to stand up but then
    Too weak fell back to the ground
    Covered his ears from the deafening sound
    And just as one police officer spotted him there
    The familiar hands connected here
    Just as they had before
    Now joined by many more
    They formed a chain unbreakable
    To him it was incredible
    Arm in arm hand in hand
    Like a human band
    Wrapped around him and the tree
    Whilst the police tried desperately
    To identify a link that was weaker
    Assuming that they would sever
    This chain so strong
    But they were wrong
    They stood there even after it got dark
    In the middle of the royal park
    And even when it began to rain
    They didn’t break the chain
    When lightning struck police retreated
    The strength of hands connected
    Led to police brutality defeated
    As thunder roared he rose elated

    Zita Holbourne Poet-Artist-Activist


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: