Hello and welcome to another interview, Poetry Lovers! And tonight, we have the wonderful and clever poet, Math Jones! (pandemonium) (Security stir uneasily)

Now, settle down PL’s! I know you’ve been queuing all night, but all the same……..

(Host bangs a ruler on the desk. There is silence)

Now what did I say, PL’s?! Settle down! Let’s welcome our lovely and talented guest Math Jones

(standing ovation. Cries of Math! Math!)

(our guest walks on elegantly)

Hello, good to be here

(looks round nervously)

Is – er Dobby here?

Think she’s helping out with security, my sweet. Thank you so much for coming on the show.

May I say, I love your platform boots, they go super with those colourful patchwork trousers.

Thank you, Heather. Do you think the cravat’s a bit much?

We think it makes you look the coolest guy on the poetry circuit, don’t we, PL’s?!

(wild hoots of ‘so cool’ ‘Yes, siree!’ etc)

I know that as well as a poet, you’re also an actor. Why don’t you fill us in on your background?

I started acting in primary school, even before I knew I was doing it. I was also painting, dancing, playing music and writing poetry. It just felt like things you did.

So that burst out when I dropped my A level studies in Maths and Physics to try for drama school. I didn’t get in but I took a range of part time classes in acting, mime and physical theatre, mostly at the City Lit. Perhaps that enabled the process of letting the inner world find a means of expression.

Because it’s more than the technical skills of breathing, voice projection, coping with being on stage, understanding text, inviting the audience’s trust and investment – all being vitally important. There’s also the bringing of secrets and insights, and touches of my own humanity to the meeting.

There’s a thought, a feeling, a sharing of something, that needs to be seen. Being on stage is a kind of permission to speak. It’s an invitation, and I find I often need an invitation.

But for a long time, I stepped away from acting. I was working in bookshops, we had a son to raise, and I’d another son from my first marriage. To a degree, I kept myself going by writing, but hardly knew I was doing it!

That’s so insightful and frank, Math. Fascinating.

(audience murmer agreement)

So when did poetry become significant in your life? And tell us about Paganism which is a strong part of you.

I stepped into a form of Paganism,and I did know I was doing it. Christian by default, I’d known for a time it did not express my own spiritual feeling. Connecting to older gods, and godesses, of the land and natural world, of the seasons, I found a world I could fit in without leaving anything outside. It’s a world in which we belong, as natural things, for as long as we’re around.

Part of that is performing ritual, rites of passage between seasons, between states of being. It involves communion with ghosts and other-worldly beings, and other people.

That brought me back to writing, specifically religious verse, and brought me back in front of a crowd.

So when in later years, I did return to acting, then writing and performing other forms of poetry, it felt kind of easy in comparison. Or rather, I’d acquired skills and strengths that helped.

And then I realised that writing, poetry, theatre etc. had been core to my life, even when I wasn’t aware I was doing it. Because my failing in ‘real life’ was made bearable by creating stuff.

There’s a kind of musculature we develop to cope, that makes the space for softer stuff to inhabit. The art mediums all have their disciplines, and a poem has its form. An experienced performer can stand in the eye of the audience-storm and let something happen.

So, my experience in acting and performance is important to me, because a writer is not a performer. They’re different jobs. The writer’s a listener, recording and shaping the words, but they don’t stand in front of the audience.

Then again, there can too much performer on stage. The performance can get in the way of that same thought coming through. Sometimes, the performer and writer have to get out of the way.

Wasn’t that beautifully put, PL’s?! You unravelled so much for us there.

(standing ovation)

That was so succinct, Math, thank you.

So, who were your greatest influences?

Um, it’s hard to name influences. I don’t feel concrete enough. There are people I feel safe with like Yeats, McKay Brown, because I feel held by then, their other-worldliness, I trust them. There are poets I know personally who I likewise surrender to. But there’s also a lot I make allowances for (forgive me), or even reject, because I don’t travel with them on their necessary journeys.

I’ve learnt from seeing others do wrong (for me anyway), but I love and long for when someone takes my breath, leaves me wanting to stop and never need to write again.

There’s something about language that fails us, something in our veneration of our own thought, as if thought should always be a leader, or witness. So perhaps that’s the draw of poetry to me – reality shaping words shaping reality. I’ve often said I write to put clothes onto naked feeling, something like that.

But then I get to the physical results, the actual poems left on the page, seem more vulnerable to criticism than when they’re spoken on stage with a twinkly smile!

It’s strange they seem so small on the page, inadequate, and we reject them, but maybe come back to them later thinking they’re not so bad. So you entrust them to the world, putting breath into them helps, reading them aloud.

Gosh, Math, you’ve taken our breath away. What a wonderful and profound answer. You are so strong and commited to your art. Justified too.

(spontaneous round of applause by an awed audience)

Now, you’ve had two very vital and stunning collections published – Sabrina Bridge and The Knotsman. Tell us about these, and is there a third on the horizon?

There’s a strange feeling of failure, as if I should have had a dozen books published by now – I’ve written enough – but that may be the I’m the greatest/I’m the worst battle, going on endlessly.

I love the two books, and am very proud of them. I find myself downplaying them though, almost forgetting they’re there. It’s embarassing I’m like that.

Sabrina Bridge is a loose collection of poems I wrote when in Worcester, published by Black Bear Press. It was there, amongst the Worcester Poets that so much of what I do now was cultivated and nutured. It has a theme for me, though the mixture of verses, personal, mythological, narrative, dramatic, might seem a jumble to others, I can’t tell.

The Knotsman is similarly a jumble, but a much more cohesive one, and holds a great deal of me in in a fabled form. The way our threads of meaning can be bound into a jangled knot or a gentle weave; the ways we are pulled by bindings that might have no meaning or value to us; it’s a lot about freedom and personal integrity, but set in a world of civil-war, plague, rationality and superstition, and the best magic of kindness and compassion.

It’s a terrible curse not being able to shout out about your work (not really, we shouldn’t need to shout about these things), but that said, I do want to get these other poems into the world somehow – a book is an extra layer of safety perhaps.

So there are a number of possible collections already being worked on – themes emerging, poems that heighten or echo other poems. “Bear” has been repeatedly shown up to say things about how big we are, how hairy, how much we roar, and to speak of the bear godess. The Fair Folk show up with tales of the shining land. The poems written to godesses, and gods, which speak of divinity as well as challenge – some were collected to a CD, but there’s enough for another collection too.

And then, there’s all the ones that fall in between, personal poems, love poems, other fables. Just as the writer’s not a performer, a writer’s not a business manager either. Frustrating, that.

Math, just talking to you here, I can see how much more you have to give us. I know what you mean, there should be many collections by now, and from listening to you here, I think these will come….

(overwhelming applause)

I remember seeing you at Boomerang Poetry in 2018. You blew us all away! What was the best poetry gig you’ve done, and the worst?

I do love the performing. There’s a communion about it, a breathing together, a physical interaction of sound and silence. There’s a trust bestowed by the audience that is deeply precious, like a warm bath they’ve offered you to play in. Alongside that is the invitation to be more human. I’ve spent so much time in solitude and silence, and when you look out on the world, it can be hard to see the vulnerable truths of our inner being be acknowledged at all. So perhaps the most enjoyable performances are those with humanity held gently between us.

I’ve loved reading one-to-one in the intimacy of the Poetry Brothel, and spreading an hour-long arc fo poems at Four Sundays in Feb. I’ve been amazed and moved by the reception at regular events, like Boomerang in London, or 42 in Worcester. And over the lockdown, live-streaming over Facebook. I’ve loved doing that.

But then, on a zoom call, my wifi was faulty and my reading was interrupted and illegible, as if I was never there; and sometimes, being last of a night, with most of the audience gone, or the first on, with the audience unsettled, these can be disheartening.

My own hearing issues, or emotional issues, can also leave me feeling disconnected with what I’ve done. My fuzzy memory makes it hard to be more specific.

Well Math, I have watched your live-streaming on Facebook, and it’s very slick. You are a true artist.

Math, what can I say? We could listen to you all day…

(stirs of agreement, emotional applause)

Certainly I want to thank you, Heather, for your continual support and enthusiasm, but also for the warmth and generosity you bring to your own words and pictures, and the beautiful nuturing spirit you share so naturally.

(blush) What can I say, Math? Thank you so much, I’ll treasure those words and consider that praise indeed.

Wasn’t that insightful and so candid, Poetry Lovers’?

(Emotional applause – threatens to get out of hand )

Now what are you doing tonight? I believe the Poetry Cafe has a disco…..

(Math looks nervous and distracted)

Oh! Dobby’s back!

(Math quickly legs it, Dobby chases him up the lighted stairs)

Oooh, go easy with those platforms, Math!!! Thank you so much for coming on the show!!!

Now, wasn’t that just splendid! Great interview. I hope Dobby’s not too hard on him!

Math’s collections –

Sabrina Bridge is available on,

and The Knotsman from

Give yourselves a treat. Wonderful poems.

Tune in for more poetry fun, same time, same channel…..

Memory Corner!

Hello PL’s, welcome back to our popular feature.

Here I am just walking into the Memory Corner now, after going to Pricerite. Bloody Delorean’s got a puncture so I had to bus it here!

I was so delighted to find these photos from 3rd December 2018.

I was honoured to be invited to be featured poet at Donall and Janice’s wonderful 1000 Monkeys in Guildford. Set in a beautiful pub called the Keep.

How I remember the lovely Christmas feel and the vibrant atmosphere there. Especially after two Gin and Tonics! My, they serve big ones in there! So I admit I was nervous but once I got behind that stand, the World was mine!

I don’t know what it is, but everytime I’m photographed reading poetry, there seems to be no audience at all! I swear there were people present – honestly!

I used my Beano notebook because ‘Bunty I Miss You’ had yet to get off the press. In a way, that made it more exciting, the anticipation of being published. So I worked that Beano notebook very hard.

Thank you Donall and Janice for giving me such wonderful memories and taking a chance on me. The audience seemed pleased so hopefully I delivered.

Let’s pray those days will come back soooon…..

Tune in again for another interview!! Book your tickets now!! Same time, same channel ….

The Second Stain

Greetings, Poetry Lovers! Intriguing title eh? Certainly got me looking!

This is the title of another beauty, penned by the lovely and talented Trisha Broomfield. Bringing back the memory that we’ve all been to school with someone like this, a classmate who outgrows us very quickly……

Read on

The Second Stain

She’d missed double maths,

no surprise, we thought she’d be skiving

off somewhere,

during needlework, she reappeared

brittle blonde newly backcombed

frosted fudge lipstick overdone

a languid look in her smoky eyes

a glint of knowing, a hint of,

don’t dare ask,

suddenly she was older than us

her clothes, pulled on in haste

bunched odd buttons together

but it wasn’t that

nor the fact that someone had seen her

lying flat in the graveyard grass

a biker beside her

it was the stain the shape of a


on the front of her white blouse

with a matching one,

a second stain

dark like Coca Cola

on the back

Trisha Broomfield

I’ve tagged a nice glamorous one of Trisha on the end here as a Thank You. Wasn’t that a joy? Keep them coming, Trisha.

Thanks for looking in, PL’s. Don’t touch that dial because we have an interview with the enigmatic and amazing Math Jones coming up… get queuing! Same time, same channel….

Poetry Basket Review

Welcome back to the Poetry Basket Review – and who is in the Poetry Basket today? Answer – the wonderful Carla Scarano D’Antonio and her debut collection Negotiating Caponata!

A wonderful and innovative collection and a joy to review. I’ve known Carla for a while now, and her prolific writing and performances are always impressive. Glad to see Carla’s now in print. Scroll down for a cracking review –

Negotiating Caponata

by Carla Scarano D’Antonio

This beautifully designed debut book of poetry, written by the prolific poet, Carla Scarano D’Antonio, is a very personal collection that presents us with real human values, voices and relationships   

Pajarita embraces us at the beginning of the book. The definition of a delicate yet empowered bird designed in folded paper, that takes us gently on the poet’s journey. 

Poignantly unravelling, and placed into three very significant sections, we are greeted by the book’s title  –   Negotiating caponata which is an emotional reflection expressed in food and its preparation.   That part of our lives that we value, but often don’t see.  Its subtext ignored, we regularly put food into our mouths and satisfy our hunger without a second thought.  The poet’s words emphasises its very significance.    

Parsley and Special carbonara have vivid and colourful images of food expressed with the emotion that it is prepared and ate with.  Described lingeringly and with passion. 

Cooking betrayal is a personal favourite.  Where tensions and family issues are tangible, and say so much.  A very human situation indeed.

Farina Manitoba also speaks volumes. Midwinter stew being the ultimate comfort food but with a tense overtone.  Followed by the stunningly described piece What I was leaving.

Only a cake, a tribute to The Edible Woman, my favourite Margaret Atwood book, has intense detail and a very disturbing comparison. 

The second section titled My Father’s Death moves us to a new emotional level, and the poet opens up another dimension.   

Early flight is a highly significant journey, and one of many heart-breaking trips to a mother country – “The suitcase is heavy with books” indicates the emotional heaviness weighs a lot more. 

Your illness, despite being beautifully written, is hard to read objectively.  We tend to turn away from raw truth, and the frank history of a long marriage. 

At the hospital, the poet takes us every inch of the way, especially with the last moving line – “Don’t you dare – you said from your deathbed.

Your last words perversely say’s an awful lot.  Words packed with emotion, and a loss emerging like a heavy shadow. 

Dispersing your ashes conveys a detailed and vivid story that could only come from real real loss and sadness.   A good strong piece to end this razor-sharp section. 

In Touch, the last section reflects both ghosts, and family members very much alive.  The contrast working well.  . 

Grandad Ciccio and Grandma Orsola create a strong montage.  A lovely tribute to a previous generation.  They build a fascinating tableau.    

Mum during the war reflects hardship and families pulling together through the harshness of war.  Their men gone to fight, they have to fend for themselves. 

Childhood tales unravel in Snake eggs, and In touch with my daughter in Tokyo reflects  the genuine ache for a grown child.  Another painful loss. 

Walking through the seasons is a frank and moving account of the year, vividly describing details of nature that opens up to us like a complete picture.  Reflective and colourful.   The new house – the penultimate poem is a moving account of a new start, and the love and hope that comes with it.    A good ending. 

A terrific personal collection.  I would recommend such a poignant journey.    I can’t wait to hear more. 

HM 2020

For a real treat, order a copy of Carla’s collection from price £8.00. Worth a read.

More information about Carla can be found on and


Hello PL’s

My! Is it October already?! – Well, it’s come up with the goods weather-wise! Cold, grey weather like October’s of yesteryear! Keep up the good work! None of this 20 degree nonsense.

I’ve penned a poem about October Harvest Festival set in 1967….

Sit tight….


Girls carried goods in a box

I just clutched a tin of beans

I handed it in to the Harvest Festival

Dreaming of other things

The Vicar looked down his nose

at the single tin – I went red.

“We’d like to thank you for all your

generous gifts,” he sarkily said.

My Mum said “Ignore ‘im!

Thinks he’s too good for us lot!

Mean old sod should be grateful,

all that bloody stuff he’s got!”

I didn’t really give a stuff,

it just got me out of class.

It was half-term soon, then

Xmas, he could stuff it up his…


I’m racking my brains here, readers, to find the missing word. Answers please on a postcard to…

Any poems about this harvesting month, please do send them in.

Anyway, thank you for watching, tune in for more poetry antics, same time, same channel…..


Hello, Poetry Lovers, welcome to the show! Today we have the unique, wonderful, innovative Celine Hispiche!!


Now settle down, PL’s.

(gives them a stern look, audience sit down meekly)

Excellent. Face the front!

Because here she is! Ladies and gentlemen, it’s Celine Hispiche!

Hello and welcome to the show, Celine! A greeting from Dobby there, with a secret message to Belu

Thank you for having me, Heather

(rubs her shoulder)

And may I say I love that crochet mini dress, and wet look boots! So cool eh, poetry lovers?! (cheering brings the house down)

Thank you. Sat up several night crocheting this! Still catching up on sleep, and I hope to God I’ve cast it off properly!!

It’s so wild, my sweet! I’m gonna get a crochet hook during the break!

Now, Celine, I’m desperate for you to fill us in on your rich musical and writing background……

I have always been drawn to music, my dad used to manage punk bands when I was a kid. I loved getting into his Morris Minor and driving to different recording and rehearsal rooms. I did my first stand-up gig at 14 at the Frog and Nightgown on The Old Kent Road and I knew then that the stage was for me.

Growing up with the sounds of Edith Piaf and Poly Styrene really inspired me to write in yer face material. I joined the Royal Young People’s writing group when I was 19 and was lucky to work with some talented writers ie April D’Angelis and Hanif Kureishi. I was a featured writer and had my work put on at The Tabernacle in Notting Hill and upstairs at The Royal Court.

I then honed in on my comedy act and performed on the main stage at Glastonbury.

Next port of call was Manhattan where I toured all along the East Coast, including the famous Catskills where Lenny Bruce graced the stage.

Another great honour was performing for Louise Bourgeois at her private salon in NYC. I have had four consecutive years at the Edinburgh Festival. Music and comedy has seen me writing my first musical, five one woman shows and working with Marc Almond and Dave Ball from the legendary Soft Cell.

Lumme, Celine! What a great background and learning curve! There are least four names that that made me swoon. And growing up with the Punk movement there – what a childhood! You’re solid gold! The real thing!

(very emotional applause)

Who were your greatest influences?

My Irish nan as she was a fantastic mimic and storyteller. My Dad Mo, he’s so rock n’ roll. The famous Caberet album and film. Soft Cell, Music Hall, Weimar and Parisian Cabaret. History. People in general and their life stories.

Amazing influences, Celine. Adored Cabaret, played that record thin. Still know the words. And yes, it’s amazing who are under our noses and the things they can tell us.

Now, you’re a big part of Soho, and you have opened doors for a great array of talent. Tell us about Celine’s Salon and how it started.

Celine’s Salon was born in 2015 at The Society Club in Soho. I’m a huge fan of Gertrude Stein and wanted to create my own unique salon.

With my love for cabaret I coined the term Literary Cabaret to bring life and rhythm to the evening. Featuring writers from all genres is our main purpose. Encouraging and supporting and giving writers an appreciative platform to share their work. We now have a monthly residency at Gerry’s Club on Dean Street which we hope to be back in the early new year.

And what about the innovative and cultural Soho Radio show?

Ahhh, I love the radio show. It was always on my wish list to have my own show and ironically Soho Radio was my first choice.

As a Soho boho resident I like being part of the community. Soho is a very tight community and filled with all walks of life. The Salon is a major feature of the show where I invite salon performers to come on as my guests. We also like artists and musicians to come on so we can support their work and spread the word.

Do you want to share your next project with us?

I will be running a series of monthly one woman shows in Soho from late November. The venue is super secret at the moment as we have to wait and see what the current situation will be as the winter comes in. I am really hoping all performers will be back in venues in the not to distant future.

My shows are based on left field women through history from Nell Gwyn to the Marchesa Casati to name but a few.

I will also be working in the new year on a very flamboyant cabaret show and the return of Celine’s Salon, fingers crossed, will be heading up to Glasgow as soon as we get the green light!

Celine! This is so impressive! What a year you’ve got ahead of you! I really want to get my mitts on those one-woman shows! You’ll be dynamite!

Isn’t she prolific and talented, Poetry Lovers?!

(deafening applause.)

Thank you so much for coming on the show, my sweet. It’s been fascinating and wonderful!

(a standing ovation with remaining security standing by)

Now my dear, shall I meet you in The French House with that handsome Ken Thomson ? Or the John Snow with that good-looking Welsh man, Iain Richards?

Umm…. afraid they’re both closed for a private booking, Heather. Iain, Ken, Gary, Pinky and I are invited but er……

I’ll get on that guest list someday! Mark my words! Meanwhile, it’s watching the telly with Dobby.

(Celine coughs awkwardly)

Oh, I see! Dobby’s been invited…. say no more…

Thank you so much for coming on the show, Celine, such an inspiring interview.

(applause, standing ovation, the lot)

Celine gracefully ascends the lighted stairs before being smuggled out in a van.

Celine has left the building!

Wasn’t that a wonderful interview?! Thanks for watching, tune in same time, same channel………

September II

Welcome to our September sequel, Poetry Lovers…..

The lovely poet, Sharron Green has come up with these two beautiful pieces about September. They’re such a treat! And in really exciting styles…. Read on…

September – a troilet

Orange leaves are all aglow

Golden fields yield harvest grain

Roses relish one last show

Orange leaves are all aglow

Grey geese gather up and go

Blue skies switch to sulky rain

Orange leaves are all aglow

Golden fields yield harvest grain

Sharron Green 2020

September – a double acrostic

Sweet berrieS

Emerge wherE

Petals droP

The day’s heaT

Ebbs to thE

Moon’s bright beaM

Bonfire’s criB

Embers racE

Red leaves roaR

Sharron Green 2020

Aren’t these wonderful? So very clever. Thank you, Sharron.

Now tune in shortly for another interview! Yes, get queuing now!

We have a real delight for you in the talk show chair, Celine Hispiche. Yes The Celine.

Tune in, same time, same channel…..


Gosh September, where have you gone?! Has lockdown made you fly away so quickly? And why are you hot now?!

I always think of September as the start of the new year. I suppose this was because we always went back to school then.

Somehow I expect it to turn colder on the very first day. I suppose the prospect of going back to school immediately put a chill on things. The most boring of summers was still preferable to actually doing that.

Anyway, I’ve penned an acrostic poem as a tribute to September 2020.


Shed looks a bit of a state – but have you seen the price of them?!

Embracing the autumn air – as much as you can in 29 degrees!

Packing away summer bedding and clothes – only to get them back out again quickly!

There used to be proper autumns! Russet skies and leaves falling.

Embers of summer memories – holidays cancelled and overspending in Tesco!

Muted sounds as children go back to school – good bloody riddance!

Bollocks to this! I’ve got to wash out my face mask again!

Evening time and the sky darkens swiftly – an end to another day of being stuck indoors.

Remember when there were proper autumns?

What’s on Netflix?

Now, PL’s, if you have any less foul-mouthed recollections of September 2020, do send them in. My contact form is now working.

Thank you for watching, Poetry Lovers, and let’s hope October cools down a bit……. Tune in same time, same channel…..

Poetry Basket Review!

Welcome back to the Poetry Basket Reviews. We’re blowing off the dust, and evicting Dobby from there! We’re also rehoming PB to this page.

Out of there at once, Dobby!

Most honoured today to have Jenny Mitchell’s wonderful debut collection Her Lost Language, in the review basket. A joint winner of the Geoff Stevens Memorial Poetry Prize, Jenny has written work of raw emotion and poignancy.

The debut pamphlet, Her Lost Language, by the vibrant poet Jenny Mitchell, is a powerful read and unleashes voices that previously couldn’t be heard.  Legacies of British transatlantic enslavement, and the Windrush generation are candidly voiced.

A joint winner of the Geoff Stevens Memorial Poetry Prize, this welcome collection is neatly placed into two sections. There are vivid homages to enslaved ancestors and others previously unacknowledged.  Yet, it’s real power is the moving voices and strong human emotions..  With good use of tenses and verse that work well. 

My Five Times Great Grandmother was Enslaved is a very personal piece in a collection of personal pieces, drawing us in deeper, until we feel we’re at the point of no return.

Song for A Former Slave, Someone Thank the Tailor, Black Men Should Wear Colour  and Blood the Seamstress – with the incredible first line ‘I’ll be the dress she never owned’, are raw emotions and memories and tributes told through clothes, and other things next to our skin. A simple concept that opens doors to the very different life that ancestors have had.  Vivid and detailed, yet the emotions are all ours.

Emancipating Ancestors is a tribute to those who died on slave plantations and opens a whole new and poignant chapter of suffering and inhumane history.  We are confronted with how human beings could be so cruel to each other.    

A personal favourite is Missing Grandmother, who worked so hard but never appeared in a photograph, nor any foreground, unlike the men of the family. This says so very much for the women who worked so thanklessly to get them there. Becoming Queen, opens another window of a hard life not documented. 

My Family Shares its Voices jumps out at the reader, the brutal grandfather and the secret burden women still have to carry. 

Before the Silence tells us of a young girl, against a strict upbringing, who really had no choice nor opportunity. Plus the father’s cruel punishment.  The tenses work very well in this piece. 

The collection turns about with the account of immigrants coming to Britain and their encounter with a cold and hostile new land.  This is reflected in the incredibly detailed Strange Land. We get closer to the poet with The Bride and a Veil, and the loss of a father, and the mother’s reflections.  The air of loss and mourning are tangible.  

One stanza tells so much, two are powerful. 

The Mess They Made and Monica Darling expresses the decline and sheer pain of a loved one with dementia, and how a mother can deny their children. 

Retreat Jamaica (1939), is a candid account in two stanza sections of a difficult birth, and an account of how men would walk away from the woman’s agony.  Here, the poet really excels and we are taken on this road.  Taking His Leave gives us insight into an upbringing in sheer hardship, and a Mother’s suffering.  We are reminded of what once had to be hidden, and we wouldn’t dream of not sharing this journey. 

In Eve’s Lost Daughter, the images genuinely shock and disturb us, and as we cross to English Fields there are other tales from the outside that bring us the painful realisation that women were truly helpless.

Incident and Her Lost Language are a fitting and sad climax.  Uncomfortable and very true, yet such compulsive reading. 

This collection will stay with you, and touch things that we in so many ways ignore, but you’d still read it again.  A triumphant debut.

Her Lost Language by Jenny Mitchell is published by Indigo Dreams. To buy a copy go to or

How lovely to do a review again, and let’s hope it’s not too long before we can hear Jenny perform live…..

Thanks for watching, tune in, same time, same channel……

Mug of Tea

Hello Poetry Lovers.

Today we feature a lovely piece from the clever (and glamorous) poet Trisha Broomfield.

Not only do I love its detail, it’s also a familiar situation for many of us.

Another winner, Trisha! Well done!

Just the Same

When you left this morning I was hugging a mug of tea,

after sorting out the dishes,

I showered, dried by hair and put on make-up,

I dressed in swishy blue trousers, a coral sweater

And for warmth and a touch of frivolity,

a short chartreuse scarf.

I made the bed,

hung out the washing in the crisp breeze, marveling at the blue sky,

I fed the worms in their three tier wormery

and settled down to write two chapters of intrigue and dastardly deeds.

I printed out some colourful artwork and made greeting cards.

I sat in the sun, then inspired,

took photos of the flame hued tulips,

which I sent to my sister, whose garden blossoms only with snow.

I shopped for food,

watched the news while cooking lunch.

I tackled the ironing,

put away clean towels,

wrote a poem, not this one, and edited a short story.

After preparing dinner, I dressed in my grey sweat pants and faded sweatshirt

for my daily yoga.

I saluted the sun, became a mountain, a cat, then a downward facing dog.

By the time you returned I was

hugging a mug of tea,

your eyes sought mine

‘What have you been doing all day? they seemed to say

you are exactly where you were when I left this morning.’

Fantastic! Love it! Another belter from the talented and prolific Trisha. Thank you so much. That’s really made my day.

Tune in same time, same channel for more poetic treats…….

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