October Fall

I love this season. This is my season. This is birthday season. And I usually have so many things planned that I blink and miss the season. And I also feel a bit gipped because this season is taken up by Halloween and Christmas celebrations that no sooner that I have my autumn leaves wreath on my front door that I’ve got to replace it with the Christmas one.

So as a gift to myself as well as some breathing space, this season I’m bringing out the poetry and I’m writing a poem a day to cherish the moment. To live and breathe into the season.

I hope to share my creations here.

I know I have a lot to share here about the last few months too. I’m not sure what I have shared here. But I do know it feels good to take the time each day to exercise my imagination and be inspired to write again for me. But I’m sharing too.

I was thinking this morning back from the school run what can I do this season to support myself. Support the ease into hibernation mode but still get through the last few commitments and chores of the year. And I feel in my heart that writing poetry or attempting to dive into my dreams ( and nightmares) is a way of giving myself that much needed support. Keeping me creative but also keeping me sane.

I hope you join me in this journey one more time.

For Blackbirds

Book cover

Things are happening this Autumn.

I was invited to submit my chapbook, for blackbirds pushing against glass, to a new press, The Wildheart Press, created by Eleanor Cheetham.

I was part of Eleanor’s Soulbook course offering in 2023 where I had the time and space to explore my creative fugitivity. Breaking the rules were welcome.

So Eleanor was familiar with my work when she approached me to submit my feral words to her press. I jumped at the chance because the words were already created. This was an opportunity to share my words further. And I just love supporting a person and a press who recognises that I do not colour within the lines. My writing does not stay on the straight and narrow path. My words like to wander and meander and that is mighty fine with me.

I’m grateful to find a home for them in The Wildheart Press.

Website image

Please consider ordering an advance copy of the chapbook. There are four other chapbooks coming out for the Autumn series too. Go and check them out

There will be a launch reding event on the evening of 26th September if you’re interested in meeting the writers and hearing our words.

Check out The Wildheart Press for details.

Satda Mornings

You’ve got to love Saturday mornings. The promise of the weekend ahead. The mix between wanting to lie in and getting out there and {BEING}.

I’m loudly advocating for what I want this morning and that is time to write and muse and drink coffee after coffee.

So I’ve been over on the Earth Sea Love Substack page sharing about a recent literary project I’ve been involved with. I wrote about creativity, motherhood, blackness and publishing on the Substack.

And being a Black mother in the publication.

Entwined: an Anthology of Creativity & Motherhood

A collaborative anthology and art journal to kindle creativity in motherhood. Edited by Sarah Shott.

My writing is included in this anthology of creativity and motherhood and I thought you might want to check it out!

Rest is a Revolution

How do you know when it’s time to unplug? What do you do to make it happen?

When I start avoiding people. Start avoiding those conversations, connections with other people. Not being able to muster the energy to just look someone in the eye, I know it is time to unplug, unwind and retreat.

When my mind becomes a jumbled mess of to-dos, guilt-tripping myself galore with feelings of not being good enough. Then I know it is time to unplug, unwind and retreat.

When I no longer receive pleasure from the things I love to do, like writing, creating, eating. {BEING}. I know then, time to step away from the tasks, the commitments, the noise, the violence and the ruin and hide.

Stop. Breathe. Lick wounds. Apply water inside and out. And come back to centre. My centre. Me, being just me.

No actions or words in attempt to prove myself. No singing and dancing routine to grab your attention. Nothing wise or in service here.

Just someone unplugging from the system unsure whether or not she wants to plug back in on someone else’s terms.