‘I know the feeling’ : About Lucas
I don’t feel like a writer anymore and it breaks my heart You are a writer every time you feel you yearn to be Writing is less about writing than it is a spiritual desire to explore emotion and […]
Refugee : Fred Ostrovskis
Nobody else knew that the fountain was alive. He watched, spine pressed into the metal bench, as they walked past, blind. Tall men in woollen armour, brogues tapping over the cobbled street, phones pushed to ears, umbrellas tucked under arms […]
27/6/17 : Charlotte Knowles-Cutler
When you beat a man for being gay you tell him “this is how we treat our women”. You show him what male privilege means, how respect exits once you are entered. Good girls are virgins. Good girls are men. […]
Permafrost : James Huxtable
Footprints crunched into the thick snow behind us, daylight breaking through the thick clouds that blind us. You blind me, chick-pea. Whatever happened to honesty? I’m searching for the side of you the other people never see. The side of […]
The Hand : Lucy Harbron
It was stamped all over me, a hand, two hands; gigantic and red and smothering. Stamped, again and again, with a force that made my skin convex, pushed me into the shape. My cells pulling, trying to avoid it, but […]
Water Birth : Elizabeth Evans & Lucy Harbron
His dad’s dad had built the boat, age 15. His dad swapped the wood for plastic as a project, after spreading the ashes of the man that raised him, and taught him how to sail. He decided to keep […]
Not Mine : Anon
Today was my first good day in a month of bad ones – and of course it was because of you. This day radiates happiness, finding its way into every detail. The sunlight highlighting the green in your eyes, making […]
I Am My Mother : Lucy Harbron
Through the silken haze of red, pink, blue, and all since I have breathed what she gave me; nourished and nurtured on the feast of warmth which is both cave and atmosphere. Past the liquefied emotions and power in the […]
Joking Doesn’t Always Work : Elizabeth Starr #WorldPoetryDay
Some days I feel the poetry looming tossing turning in its bed A wriggling free of ecstasy I can’t quite cram into my head Other days I just feel nothing and bite the pillow hard And wish I had […]
Requiem : A Collection By Izaak Bosman #WorldPoetryDay
The First Vision It is as if They are now victims Of some obscene assault Strung up like highway men Or black bodies in the South Scorched by a seductive destruction And set aflame by want Of a real wasteland […]