Disappear

 I wrote this in October of 2026 during a depressive episode.  Don't worry, I'm fine,  It's just a fleeting moment of darkness that is expressed through my catharsis, 'dark poetry'.  The image is by John Atkinson Grimshaw - a Victorian artist; it is entitled Moonlight, Warfedale.  I loved the play of light on the country road, along with the 'disappearing' silhouette. 

Conversation with Cupid

I wrote this poem in response to a prompt on social media suggesting composition of a poem based on a conversation with Cupid.  I tried to imagine my honest response to a 'god' who creates so much love, yet so much pain.  The poem is more reflective than anything else...just me overthinking and having another usual conversation with myself.  The image is by a contemporary digital artist D'Lavigne.  I thought it a suitable image as it supported the idea of the speaker having a conversation with himself...they knew the answer all along, the idea of the conversation with cupid was merely the catalyst.
 

Each tear a gem

 I wrote this poem in 2026, after I read a poem in December of 2025 with my year 8's, the words 'Each tear a gem' are taken from 'the Masque of Anarchy' by Percy Bysshe Shelley.  The words resonated with me and conjured up images of dark, deep mines and bright, beautiful gems.  These juxtaposing ideas of how gems are formed and mined in dirt, pressure and darkness, with the simple, glorious and miraculous beauty of each stone inspired this poem.  The image I found on the page of 'Kindness the Artist' on Facebook.  The stars signified the gems and the person, the mines.

I tread softly

 

This poem is dedicated to those who move gently and with kindness through life, asking nothing in return.  Photo by Austrian wildlife photographer, Julian Rad.

Bandage

 

Bandage is an uncomfortable poem that I wrote that looks at the conflict in deciding whether to be on anti-depressants which make me feel numb or to not take them and to live in emotional turmoil, always walking a tightrope with my mental health.  I chose this image by: Meriam Awada called 'the last breath'.

Autumn Photographs

 

I've always loved the autumn leaves.  When I was a child growing up in Benoni, South Africa, I used to go to a primary around the corner from my grandparents' house and often had to walk home.  The street to walk home was lined with oak trees that lost their leaves in autumn.  I recall the crunch of the dried leaves under my black leather school shoes and sweet, dry aroma they released like potpourri.  Since moving to the UK, these memories have re-emerged.  Autumn in Nottingham is one of my favourite times of year.  My favourite sensory experiences include, the sound, smell, visual bouquet of autumnal colours, the feeling of the cool breeze on my face, whilst my body is warm and cosy in a coat.  I love autumn.    I wrote this poem in Autumn of 2025.  I took this photograph on my local dog walk in autumn 2026.

Recognise

 I wrote this poem very recently, 19 September 2026, based on a feeling that always haunts me.  The feeling like I have lost a very important part of myself, but can't quite identify where I lost this piece of myself.  I remember being another version of myself, but the experiences and knocks of life have erased these parts of myself and they now sit in my mind like a piece of dusty furniture in the corner of a room, that carry sentimental value, but is of no real use.  I feel that there are many people that can relate to this feeling.  The image was a prompt on social media.  Upon research, it appears to be a stylised modification to the final scene of 'The Matrix', which I feel is ironically appropriate, considering the poem was written without this context.  Enjoy.

Snails

 I wrote this poem in the summer of 2025, however the concept had been in my mind for a year or so already.  On my morning runs, I used to notice, how at the crack of dawn, snails used to migrate from one side of a path to another.  I also observed the many crushed bodies of these little critters in their trek to cross the path.  From this emerged the 'dawn death-march of the snail'.  This is one of my favourite poems and I hope others enjoy the beauty and thought given to something so menial.  The photograph was taken by my friend, Joy, on a morning run when she last visited in Spring 2026.

Heartbreaking

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I wrote this poem about 3 weeks ago when my daughter and her first long-time boyfriend broke up. She was…still is, devastated and it allowed me to reflect on that pain from many decades ago when I had my heart broken. It’s big.  The image was saved on my camera roll from social media for a while, just waiting for the correct poem to come along.  I think it was created by Crisco Art, according to my research.

Thalassophile

I wrote this poem whilst on holiday in Southbourne, Dorset after I read somewhere that when starved of our senses (as humans) in a sensory deprivation chamber, the loudest thing that remains is our own thoughts.  Now, as an overthinker, this was quite alarming, as my mind is already extremely loud, even with all my senses working at full tilt.  It got me wondering if this may be the opposite then for overthinkers - perhaps our minds become still.  For me, a thalassophile (someone who feels an inescapable need to be and live by the sea; it's the unconditional love of the ocean - come rain or shine) the ocean has always created this calm for me - my sensory deprivation tank.  The art is by Benjamin Viulet - called 'The War Within'.

Path of Totality

I wrote this poem shortly after viewing the eclipse whilst on holiday in Southbourne. I was absolutely blown away by the spectacle that unfolded along the highcliff that day (August 12 2026). People flocked to the spot, setting up tents, picnics, camping chairs, music and used any means necessary to view the rare beauty of the 94% total eclipse. They used, colanders, cereal boxes, welder’s masks and foil…but one thing that they could not use was their phones, due to the sheer power of the sun. The event was a stunning phenomenon and one I will remember forever. But the more beautiful event was that the world stopped for a moment to just take in the absolute unexplainable might and beauty of nature. That’s what I hoped to capture in this poem.

Immortality

 I wrote this poem 05 August 2026 - the idea formed in my head when I was thinking back on a conversation I had with an ex-GCSE student who was remarkably bright.  When I asked what he was going to do with his life, he responded that he wanted to find the secret to immortality.  Now as an English teacher - the literary alarm bells ring, of the unchecked ambition of tragic heroes like Wiktor Frankenstein and Macbeth.  My thoughts, on this however, are set out in the poem.  I feel that immortality is a reality, if only we can see the wood for the trees (so to speak).  The picture I decided to pair with my poem is by an artist named Crisco Art - called 'Red Balloon'.  I liked the passing of the balloon as symbol of immortality.

Nothingman

By Angela Churchill.

Another poem inspired by an Instagram prompt to write a poem inspired by an image in 2026.  When I saw this image, I immediately thought about the loneliness of old age and how often the elderly are forgotten, as they hang onto their memories for as long as time allows.  It makes my feel sad.

 

Seagulls

 

Written August 2025 in Southbourne, Dorset, whilst on holiday.  I was inspired by seagulls first in Devon in 2023, when on holiday in Ilfracombe.  We stayed in a lovely apartment with panoramic ocean views and I just fell in love with watching the seagulls bobbing on the water, like little floating pebbles, basking on the rocks in the day and drifting and gliding on the wind - and I felt a jealousy and decided there and then, that if reincarnation is, indeed  a real thing, I'd love to come back as a seagull.

Shadows

By Angela Churchill

Based in an Instagram prompt to create a poem based on the image in the background and my fascination with the versatility of the imagery and connotations attached to our shadows.

 

The Wonderful Wisdom of the Worm

 

By: Angela Churchill

Inspired by Donna Booth, who asked for a poem about a worm 2026

Half moons

 

Inspired by an intense season of loss and grief after the passing of my sister in law and my father. I was forced to come to terms with the fact that I needed medical intervention to cope with my long term depression.

Quotes

"The human condition is unspeakably sad.  Think of it:  Their bodies are fragile, their lives are brief, each like the sputtering decline of a short candle; measured against the age of the earth itself, their deepest relationships with friends and family are of the most transitory nature, mere incandescent flashes of love and kindness that do nothing to light the great, endless dark, flowing river of time.  Yet they seldom surrender to the cruelty of their condition, seldom lose faith in themselves.  Their hopes are rarely fulfilled, but they go on anyway, struggling against darkness.  Their determined striving in the face of their mortality is the very definition of courage, the essence of nobility."

Dean Koontz  -  Strange Highways, Hardshell

"The past is but the beginning of a new beginning, and all that is and has been is but the twilight of the dawn."

H.G. Wells