Poems for a cold September night



Some of our latest poetic offerings from three of our members. 

Untitled Poems by Holly Attwell

A stab through memories that glittered and shined,

a pierce of betrayal and uncertainty.

The mask has slipped to reveal another

and I don’t think you can see yourself in the mirror.

A knight in shining armour; no.

A bad person; not that either.

Perhaps just an ordinary boy lost in their own confusion.

But answer this; was it me?


Rain lashes onto the cold, grey ground.

From behind the glass, it makes no sound.

It is like a blanket wrapping around the houses,

and it makes everything darker; from the leaves,

that are now a leathery dark green,

to the slimy, almost black concrete.

It makes the cars shine dimly,

and people fear to drift into the patches of water,

which fill the pavements and make them even.

The question is, how deep are those potholes,

which are now covered by water and hit like a soundless snare?

In this rain, will troubles or happiness drown?


As I stared out on a wholly grey,

unwelcoming and blustery day,

an unexpected sight caught my eye.

Through the water falling from the sky,

flew towards me a fiery coloured flicker.

Dodging the rain with expertise; a butterfly

with red wings, perched upon my window sill,

only momentarily.

The grey day paused at this flash of colour

and surprise; the rainbow in the rain,

and then it was gone,

flying through the storm alone,

as if catapulted into the wrong place and time

and captured, just for me, in my eye.


Why did that person choose today to die?

They did not choose of course, but why?

Why is it that on this day,

filled with both sun and cloud,

they took their final breath and left without a sound?

The neighbours stare at the house,

peaking through net curtains,

watching and wondering as ambulances

arrive and depart. They guess,

and they know. The sky turns grey,

and a man turns and says out loud

“Why did they choose today?”

and somehow, that sounds profound.


You sit there in front of that person,

and the void of time stands before you.

Seeing into it is easy, but talking through it is not.

You sit there all the same,

and the two of you are somehow changed, yet unchanged.

Through this void you see backwards

to a time when conversation was easy,

silence even more so, and your mouth opens

with some triviality, just to fill the silence,

because in that silence are a thousand things unsaid,

left to circle in your head,

and the distance seems even stronger.


Poems by Xenia Lily 


I have found a thousands way to not love you.

The distance, the time, the language, the differences to name a few.

But with each reason, each story I tell myself, I can’t help it;

I fall for you every time.

I remember the way you looked at me and each block I put in our way to try and stop the sound of music the world seemed to be singing.

The sweet symphonies of surrender.

The way your hands held mine. I was home, grounded.

It was a secret we had to keep.

But the world knew.

We never made promises because we were afraid we couldn’t keep them.

We just had each other.

The scent of your chest when you’d pull me closer to you, woodchipped and alive.

With you I felt alive.

I told myself no each time.

Each time I didn’t listen.

If felt wrong. Like I wasn’t the right puzzle piece.

But I’ve never felt more at home than I did in your arms.

You gave me an infinity in numbered days.

That’s what all the love stories say.

But I never used to believe them.

Not until you walked in, My hero.


I ruined it all. I was the one who left.

I wanted to give you a better life with someone who was your puzzle piece.

One day I’ll learn to regret my decision.

Maybe one day you’ll learn to accept it.

Or maybe, one day.

We’ll both get what we really


Battle Fatigue 

The ashes of you leave me scattered,


Like the soldiers at Dunkirk.

Trembling, fragile, but a fighter amongst all else.

I never knew I was worth something.

But I realised my value after you denounced my worth.

You try, but fail, to make this work.

But I march on.

Your words strike like bullets – fire with precision

I will never surrender.

But a wave cracks, breaks, smashes around me.

The winds of past battles gather, collected.

We announce as one, we will never surrender.

The pictures faded, scattered like seeds.

Memories fragmented, bias and mistaken.

You leave me bloody;

We march on as one:

We will never surrender.



Poems by Danielle Jade Oldham

Things I learnt in the Hospital

 Dr.Clarissa hates writing in black ink

the girl in the next bed isn’t a natural blonde

I wish I had painted my toenails –

a splash of red on my pale skin would look so divine –

I bet everyone thinks I’m not pretty.

It’s quiet here,

and I like to read magazines for hours on end.

How does she do it? A doctor, with husband and four children.

How come she was allowed all that?



 For a whole minute I loved you.

Standing in the kitchen


and unpeeling a banana.

You love bananas

and I loved your distracted eyes,

dark hair, hands that almost look still young, I could see

a calmness, finally, yellow light

and the smell of lemons, everywhere


then you see me

and sigh. Frown.

You’ll never tell me what I did

and once again

I don’t love you



 Forcing chocolate down my throat

you never take no for an answer

but that’s okay, for you,

you’re honey-sweet and cinnamon-freckled and


I don’t yet know

that there’s such a thing

as too much chocolate.


Your powdered sugar is in my hair

but I feel no shame.

Sickly sherbert, blue, in the morning

just in case.


I hate you enough to hang you

with a strawberry lace,

in your boiled-pear jumper

and sleep creases.


Images – Danielle Jade Oldham


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