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April 28, 2017

5pm Friday Night

Emails, accounts, late promises

next door’s drum and bass

dog eyes me pityingly.

April 28, 2017

The woman in the allergy clinic tells me to use my Epi Pen if I feel overcome by a sense of imminent doom

I flash her my Labour Party card

she says just to use it if I eat a peanut

April 26, 2017

What Was Left


some stacked

some strewn

split in to two distinct categories

                space, monsters and Neil Gaiman

                social commentary, unread classics and bad book club choices...

April 26, 2017

Polling Booth

When I was 17 I was desperate to get inside one

to make me feel like I was in control.

April 24, 2017

After another weekend of birthday celebrations I haven't managed to get these online fast enough so here's three in a row.

Notes From The Allergy Clinic

We sit too close

sleeves rolled up

resisting the urge to itch

resenting the ‘no phones’ rule

as our arms blister

waiting to...

April 21, 2017

Today's prompt was to write a poem based on something(s) over heard

I Saw It On Instagram

because they’re telling us to eat fruit

but actually it’s really bad for you

have you tried lemon juice?

turmeric would clear that up

cut out dairy

cut out citrus

cut out carbs

are you dri...

April 20, 2017

Working Late

Microwaved curry

pile of washing

cold tea

sent the last email

clicked submit

on that dreaded application

last minute prep

for Year 5 workshop in the morning

laptop logged off

kettle waiting

when I remember

with a thud

I have yet to write

today’s sodding poem.

April 19, 2017

This morning's prompt on The Poetry School website was towrite a bad poem. Luckily I have years of experience to draw from.

A complete list of the themes covered in my poems between the years 2007 – 2010


always boys

suggesting not one

had yet made it to puberty



April 18, 2017

Is it a coincidence that my birthday weekend hangover has cleared and Theresa May's called a General Election?

Who knows.

I'm just grateful it's another day when the poem has written itself.

Excuse me, Mr Corbyn. Theresa’s on the phone.

Organic marrow in one hand

a thirst o...

April 17, 2017

Yesterday was my birthday, I woke up with a sore head and after a prosecco breakfast had no motivation to write a poem and today has been much the same (minus the boozy breakfast).

Yesterday’s was a total cheat without looking at a prompt; today’s prompt on The Poetry S...

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NAPOWRIMO (aka something I'm going to live to regret)

March 28, 2017

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