Skip to main content

Poetry

"I have a dark and dreadful secret. I write poetry." 

So begins Stephen Fry's The Ode Less Travelled, the book that got me thinking seriously about how to write good poetry. I'd recommend that book to anyone who wants to write poetry, but doesn't know where to start. It taught me a lot about technique, and form. It also emphasised that the best way to get good at poetry is simply to write it.

I think my lack of practise shows in these poems, but I've added them here because, for one reason or another, I want to share them. The world would be a better place, would it not, if we all shared more freely what we cared about, allowing ourselves to be a little vulnerable, in hopes of making a connection with another vulnerable human?

I hope you find something to connect with in these poems.

On the Eve of the Queerish Bookshop - 03/10/2023

A Living Villanelle - 17/10/2020

Current - 27/07/2020

The Martial Artist - 27/07/2020

Sonnet-19 - 27/07/2020

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Suicide or Solidarity

Content warnings: discussion of suicide, self-harm, grief, genocide Don't set yourself on fire. The act of self-immolation as a form of political protest has a long history, and in recent months, some people have committed suicide by fire in response to the genocide in Gaza. Every single one of these people deserves immense respect for their empathy, for their integrity, and their commitment to standing in solidarity with the people of Palestine.  But I've been in a protest group where two young people set themselves on fire for the cause, and this kind of protest cannot be valorised. The romanticisation of self-sacrifice leads to nothing but grief. We must find a way to appreciate and acknowledge the sincerity of those who self-immolate for a political message, while strictly dissuading any further acts of suicide. This is for a very simple reason: unnecessary violence cannot end unnecessary violence. There are compelling arguments as to why violence, in many circumstances, is

Cancel All Non-Vegans

Content warnings: Discussion of animal abuse, misogyny, racism, and vegetarianism. Supposedly a fighter for social justice, Jeremy Corbyn spent much of his life eating the products of animal suffering. It's about time somebody said it. I say it with my chest: Cancel all non-vegans. Cancel all non-vegans. Cancel all non-vegans. Cancel all non-vegans. Cancel all non-vegans. Racists don't deserve platforms, respect, or sympathy. Misogynists don't deserve platforms, respect, or sympathy. Homophobes, transphobes, Israel apologists, and other violent bigots do not deserve to be pandered to, catered for, or listened to. We need them as far out of our social discourse as possible. Most reasonable people accept this. Violent people do not deserve our protection. So why are we blind to the violence of animal-eaters? My Dad's a racist. I disowned him for watching a Ben Shapiro video in 2020. My mother, seemingly sweet and kind-natured, regularly eats the flesh of once-sentient bei

Just Do Better.

This week, I left Just Stop Oil. Since April this year, I have given months of my life, multiple arrests, my mind, my voice, my heart and my energy to Just Stop Oil. It’s cost me a relationship, the respect of some friends, and caused many arguments with my family. The arrests mean I’ll likely struggle to work in the education sector, and limit my general career prospects. More than that, working for Just Stop Oil has come at the cost of my mental health. I’ve noticed myself reading less, sleeping badly, spending most of my days angry, in despair, and have developed bad habits of toxic resentment that will take a long time to work beyond. My issues with Just Stop Oil started right at the first talk I went to, given by two people I’ve got deep love and respect for and have been on arrestable actions with since. Their messaging was about “the truth”, and about how high-profile “sacrifice” is needed to stop oil before we reach a “tipping point”. This initial talk exhibited all the problem