This is not fluffy poetry. It's filled with Emily's feelings; her wants, needs, regrets. There's pain, darkness, and guts galore.
I do not offer this as a definitive description of what it is like for everyone to wake up with depression, but it is an offering, a thought, an imagination, and a representation of one morning, for one person, at one time.
It's the end of Mental Health Awareness Week. Like many others out there, I've spent the last five days trying to work out how to contribute to this with my own thoughts.
Homelessness is heartbreaking, and with all the stats and facts and stereotypes out there it's easy to forget the real people behind the cardboard signs and sleeping bags.
I like nothing better than escaping into a good book. It's my favourite kind of holiday; taking a break from my own life and delving into someone else's, finding solace between pages.
Easter got me thinking about eggs; not just the ones covered in foil (yum) but the ones I have inside me, too.
This haiku was inspired by an admission I made while chatting to friends recently. Brutal? Maybe. Efficient? Definitely.
I've wanted to write a poem focused on the power of womanhood for a while – and what better occasion to spur me on than International Women's Day?
A short-but-sweet poem written especially for World Book Day.
We are a product of centuries of other people; the physical embodiment of those who came before us. If we changed, we would lose something truly unique and special.