A poem about school friends, lost friends, and what it feels like to be the odd one out in a group of people who are also the odd ones out.
I'm forcing myself to write for an hour a day without distractions, and - well, it's hard. But I'm determined to start writing more, so here we go.
A poem about the things you wanted in the past, and the things you want now, and whether you should shun the past or strike a balance between it and now.
This week I'm incredibly excited to announce that I'm working on a poetry chapbook! Here's what I can tell you about it right now, and what's to come.
A love letter to water, to playing pooh sticks in the stream on our road as a child, and to the chance to pass those memories on to future generations.
There are a lot of things that my anxiety means I can't do - and it turns out driving might be one of them. Let's talk about trauma, limits, and necessity.
An explicit account of negative thought spirals. Please read with caution, my darlings.
I've talked a lot about being at peace with recovery from depression not being all an upward curve. But that doesn't mean that it's any the less horrible.
Experimenting with a different kind of free verse structure for this week's poem - the story of a white plastic bag, and its refusal to give up.
This year I'm forcing myself to do things I am terrified of - things that most people consider normal. This month, I go and get a haircut.