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.