A celebration of Our Patty... x
A celebration of Our Shiela... x
Reflections on the MeToo movement.
Writing this poem is not procrastination.
Uploading this poem is not procrastination.
Reading this poem is not procrastination.
No matter what else I try and do, I always end up being a writer.
Today I attended a 4-hour long interview for a place on a waiting list for a PGCE in primary teaching. We were given the following creative writing task (I daresay my afternoon would have been wasted were it not for this):
"If you could introduce a friend to any place in the world which is special to you, where would it be and why?
A poem that isn't about Brexit.
August saw the celebration of my little brother's 21st birthday. In homage to him, and to our family unit as a whole, I wrote this poem...
A short scribble inspired by a close encounter with some Artful Dodger-esque tricksters who took quite the fancy to my deceiving bulging pockets.
Oh, how dull this life would be if foresight, like hindsight, were 20:20
Midnight musings on making mistakes.
A couple of poems pencilled from the cosy limbo where only a graduate can reside.
I like this little nook, why is everyone always in such a rush?