Owr Billy’s up for handling he went and lost the swag. When he crossed the motorway someone made off with his bag Owr Mandy shot her...

Poets in my head write with quills on parchment, in a room lit by a lantern, a fire in the grate. They pen the words they cannot speak,...

I wish that I could hold your hand, show you that I understand, people have been where you are right now. I wish that you could see a...

The views expressed by guest bloggers are their own and do not necessarily reflect Lily's views. A road long A journey vast Allies...

Poetry spoke the language of the long dead. Its curious spelling and strange vocabulary foreign on my tongue. It called to me, through...

She broke free of chains they used to hold her, avoided boxes they would wish to put her in. She travelled on through setbacks and...

We have so many colours, we have so many hues, the expression of some parts of us, maybe hidden from view. Some people see our rainbow,...

Some poets learn the steps of a familiar routine, keeping the rhythm, hitting every beat. Some poets know many dances, utilising their...

This poem was written in 2019 and appears in My Father's Daughter. Stop all the texts, remove the mobile phone, prevent the isolated...

As each shall take their leave another follows in their stead with scarce a beat between each exit and each entrance controlled by one...