Warmth
Ashirbad Roy
An Ode to my Teenage Bedroom
I never really imagined I’d become as nostalgic for my teenage bedroom as I did. When I moved to uni, I was ready to leave behind any bad memories I had associated with it. To begin with, I forgot how […]
The Motherland
The motherland too many dark days and not enough sunlight it really is grim up North My darling years filled with cherry wine and not enough sleep I’m saddened to inform you that my time here has come to an […]
A Wooden Surrender
I wondered what had toppled that torso of sturdy oak, crippled, hollow, beneath a frosted cape of white, recalled how high those branches stretched, to sky, to cloud, far from from the humble earth beneath; I was younger than the […]
Home
I moved three times in the last year. My preconceptions of what a “home” is meant to be seemed to dissolve the longer I spent living on my own. Searching for a sense of home felt like aiming for a […]
You Came Out Screaming And Alive And Look At You Now
In Olivia Gatwood’s poem Ode To My Bitch Face she says “you came out screaming and alive and look at you now!” But I was born blue lifeless and choking, a chord around my neck. When you ask me about […]