We talk a lot ABOUT love. There are songs, poems, t-shirts, postcards, films, art, books, even cakes can sometimes end up with something about love scrawled across the top. Yes, we talk about it. We think we know all there is to know about love. It has a shape and a colour; red hearts are perhaps one of the first things we all learn to recognize when we’re young. The feeling seems universally the same, and most of those poems, songs and films seem to tell us what we already know. They show us a picture drawn long ago and set in the stone of a popular culture that likes to sell us things.
Read MoreRecently I wrote a poem inspired by seeing some of the reactions to a feminist content creator (@fgrlsclub) who had stepped outside the now tightly drawn lines of contemporary feminism, in order to carefully critique the words of ‘influencer’ Molly Mae.
Read MoreIt is both true and heart-breaking to admit that we are not doing enough for women. I am not doing enough for women. Because I’m busy, because I’m tired, because I don’t have enough time, because actually our current society isn’t set up to accommodate the collective awakening needed to do enough for women.
Read MoreBoil the kettle, steep your tea and gather your thoughts. Breathe, stretch out your body on the mat before you bring it to your desk. Gather your energy, take a slow sip of your tea and start to write. Listen out for the bird call through your open window; nature’s accompaniment to this moment of creative surrender and solitude.
Read MoreImagine you know where poetry lives. Can see it, nestled somewhere tangible. It’s home, rooted in the swell of somewhere real. Scooped into your hand where it sits, cupped by your fingers, and warmed in your palm.
To write poetry is to place your words gently down to rest. But to publish poetry…that is the plucking and the placing of them somewhere new.