In discussing how to kick-start the Survivors’ Poetry blog, this poem about my father's tin leg and how, as a child, I used it as a garage for my toy cars was recently recalled in some email communications. A survivors’ poet remembered my reading of it some years ago at the Poetry Cafe.  Descended from a Line of Legs Clank; his leg shows its metal down the pungent antiseptic corridor whose double once wheeled his flesh one to the fire. Now he spawns comedy; these are...

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I wanted to share a poem for Valentine's day with a bit of sign: Valensign Cross my arms Over my chest To say I love you In the US I prefer Sign UK Touch my heart In the English way Portugese Point my middle finger To my heart and point to you To say amo-te French J’taime I give you my heart German Ich leibe dich My crossed hands flutter from my heart...

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Roses are dead Violence is cool Bring me the head Of the Party that rules! And just to prove this: I was shouting at the radio this morning as they announced the Stuart Rose ex M&S head of whatever is to be brought in to advise NHS managers!!!  I could tell them - sling your hooks/go/sod off/too many chiefs etc!!  Why are they treating the NHS like a private enterprise?  Just what we need, run the NHS like a business!  Though I heard this on Radio 4 I must also stop...

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Just to mark the passing of a great man, singer of protest songs and all round good person, Pete Seeger with his great song -simple, touching and true..... Where have all the flowers gone, long time passing? Where have all the flowers gone, long time ago? Where have all the flowers gone? Young girls have picked them everyone. Oh, when will they ever learn? Oh, when will they ever learn? Where have all the young girls gone, long time passing? Where have all the young girls gone, long time ago?...

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Rooke by name, Rooks by nature The Rookes Took: a vulnerable man's dignity spirit he slept in a garage ate from the  bins made a scavenger by you who really are scavengers your fists and feet beat this man defenceless and needy like fierce creatures who peck and tear and devour their prey long may you pay David Rooke admitted false imprisonment and a number of counts of causing actual bodily harm. Jamie Rooke admitted affray and a number of counts of causing actual bodily harm....

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I read this book differently, I put it down eighty percent through, completing weeks later. I’m grateful it soaked in slow. But I left my writing late, had to refresh myself before drafting this. Mr. Heaney, as ever, deserves consideration, this collection is so fresh. It is in two parts although I focus on part one, as it has a more obvious theme: it takes us back to a world, I hesitate to say Heaneyland as it's not an exclusive world but inclusive. It takes us back slowly to a...

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Just want to share www.break-charity.org in the East of England - I discovered it because of my addiction to charity shops.  Charity Shops Sometimes they make me sad  as they are a link to the past -  seeing a nice tea set or dressing table,  glassware that must have been treasured for years  when people didn't have very much  now in a far corner of a far corner of England, town, street...  and certain clothes, ornaments I saw on my Aunty Kath's...

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Hoping that I don't hold the country to ransom, guess I'll have to pay the tax on the benefit I received for just under 3 months in 2010.  It's too complicated to work out, all I know is I'm tired and weary and that's probably how they get you.

Mad (T)axeman

The Taxman Cometh

And I runneth

(not really - don't lock me up)

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When I first started Door into the Dark I thought maybe Heaney had been deliberately trying to break the spell of Death of a Naturalist.  I didn’t know what to make of the first two poems. I struggled to keep up, took some time to tune in, but have now learnt what those poems are about – Mossbawn (the farm on which Heaney lived during his early childhood), and about closeness to a horse and a stable. Door into the Dark bursts with wonderful, living, poems, but maybe lacks the...

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Got a nice complicated breakdown from those nice people at the tax office who wrote to tell me I owe them £157.60 as I had two employers a couple of years ago. Well, I wouldn't want the country to fall down because of my debt so I enquired how so I owe this amount?  Apparently I claimed some benefit (60 odd pound a week) when I couldn't work and couldn't get sick pay as I hadn't worked long enough. So added to my stress of a major op, being very ill, I...

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I did draw a picture of Santa holding a gun in my back in the supermarket at Christmas time a few years ago when I was going through a particularly bad time and overwhelmed by shelves of monotony that were supposed to make X time better.  I remember crying in the aisle, feeling lost, feeling like my mother, thinking 'I don't know what to buy... I don't know what to do... I hate Xmas... I hate the pressure of what I'm supposed to do at this time of...

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I’m editor of Poetry Express, Survivors Poetry’s monthly newsletter featuring readers’ personal stories of how they came to write poetry and how writing has been helpful to them in coping with Mental Distress. The poetry contributions are often related to these personal stories, and even when not explicitly related they speak most powerfully of the contributors’ experiences. Contributions cover a broad spectrum, ranging from participants in Survivors’ Poetry...

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I shouldn't go back there - even in the online pages of the local chronicle.  I know I'll be getting airiated about some new story and find that bit by bit by blow by blow how the soul has been ripped out and replaced with....nothing. Whoopee only this number of murders compared with the next town... only these amounts of muggings in comparison.  And now, the Market that has always been an empty, souless monstrosity but better than homogenised shopping for automatons...

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Colin Hambrook's double launch on Saturday 12th October at the Pallant House Gallery in Chichester was - it's too easy to use such vocabulary -  the most inspiring Survivor event since the 21st Birthday bash last year. Partly it was the event itself, curated by Pallant's Deputy Director Marc Steene who spearheads the Outside In series of galleries and Outsider-led art initiatives currently on exhibition at The Public in West Bromwich and Project Ability in Glasgow. Mostly it...

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Seamus Heaney (1939-2013) was an Irish poet, dramatist and critic. He died at the end of last August which has brought forth many reminiscences in the media about him and admiration for his poetry. He was born in Northern Ireland and his early childhood on a farm called Mossbawn is a vital element to his poetry. He lived through The Troubles and was clear on his stance as an Irish Catholic. Heaney was well recognised in his lifetime. There is a list of awards and prizes he received on his...

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Tesla being the unsung 'father of electricity' and Mark Twain being a good human being they did meet and a picture is attached of MT in NT's lab!......I'm sure I don't have explain what a catastrophe losing local libraries is, unless you are for the Tesco type hyperlibrary we are being offered.  Kensal Rise was opened by MARK TWAIN and I was inspired to write this poem in honour of him and the libary which served me well as a haven and sancutary when I needed...

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..because no matter how many times I have tried, I end up with mud on my face, threats, dismayed, disheartened, lost, alone.  All because I keep my trap shut and when I open it, the truth comes out.  So what else can I do but express myself in a poem..but is it myself, am I expressing someone else?  Am I just asking for trouble?  It's serious but I can't help a flippant title! Gruffalo Soldier You Nephew No higher Than a Terracotta warrior And...

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I had an idea to write something about incarnation and gathered some phrases, but didn’t think I really had something, especially as it’s a big thing others have definitely done – but then I thought I’d give my partial view a go and this is how its taken its own form. Incarnation Born, this is the meat of it, the meta too for some. This feast of flesh. Which way does it go, control, flesh to spirit, or spirit flesh. A balance must be struck, you say. Yet the dreams of...

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'to be silent is to die' - so sayeth a wise flamenco singer in Seville (BBC4 Sunday 9pm) but parents, siblings and extended have killed my duende.  I learned some flamenco and seeing this programme just fired me up, however, 'MY KNEES, WON'T LET ME'.  However, performing poetry does give me a sense of being 'alive' and if only my family were communicative......in the right way. My father should have been a flamenco singer His shouts echo in...

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"Do you feel some poetry events appear highbrow and intellectual and pretentious....don't be put off!" were my mentor Dave Russell's wise words that went through my head after doing an open mic where my stuff didn't seem to fit in... even the whoops and applause I got for Celebacy seemed insignificant for my second round... I think I'm threatened by the 'show, don't tell' mob. Then I got home and John Cooper Clarke was speaking to me through the...

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Sigh, July, Why? You see a pink circle of light Surrounding the City Reminding you when you felt whole at last Raking a cotton field in the Haifa Valley Feeling part of it all Surrounded by the hills And watching the sun rise like a giant pink grapefruit Spreading and colouring the earth At last waking up - it only took 20 years! Good to be alive until the humidity hits And you sink into a drenched sweaty office Praying the cool morning will stay - like you did back then - trying to...

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This is is the fullest expression of the problems of ME I have encountered in poetic form. Though it is a widespread phenomenon, it is played down by the medical profession. It is often dismissed by the general public as hypochondria, as an excuse to avoid activity and responsibility. In the poem, Wilma emphasises the point that many people with ME are dedicated, hard-working souls who shirk nothing. 'Thoughts' gives articulation to the marginalised and silenced Thoughts Sometimes we...

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Oh what a night Friday 20th July 2013!  I was blown away by Time Attendant who seems to have a link to my solar plexus...I bought his EP on the night and 2nd track 1st side (Wisteria Albion) made me cry, it's music to die to.  Sarah Angliss is a robotic and music electronica personifica!  In the cosy atmosphere of the Horse Hospital I felt at home watching her play a multitude of instruments (including a saw), operate robots and do a sweet version of Popcorn by Hot Butter...

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I’ve always loved poetry, but have been woefully bad at knowing that, not to mention getting to know it. In fact part of my survivor journey has been about realising I love it and how important it is to me. Mad eh? Some people around me dismissed it and my liking for it, and most of the people that didn’t seemed quite clear that it might be beyond me – not everyone - but then it gets complicated, my lack of connection to it may be part of how I came to be a Survivor. Anyway, I...

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...who fought and fought but in the end was let down..I wish I could have her back to tell her how amazing she was. A Bird in the Dark As I walked home from familiar Hospital grounds, sounds of thrilling song, stopped me in my tracks Echoing all around Holding me in awe was A little bird so vulnerable But clever to hide And strong enough to drown Hospital trolleys Striking stone floors And the shouts of a teenager so into himself Hidden in a tree Singing above it all Little bird you reminded...

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