Poet Mum – Bringing A Baby To An Open Mic

Babies and poetry don’t mix. I don’t remember who said that to me, but I remember it being said, and it stuck. The dread it inspired when I started to consider how being a mum and a poet would work still lurks in the back of my brain, and I probably spend more time than I should be worried over the subject. This post isn’t a how-to on balancing motherhood and writing, but it is my personal experience of how I’ve managed those two elements of myself so far. ‘One size fits all’ is almost always a lie, and it’s important that we share our experiences openly and honestly so that others can find the path that works best for them. Parenthood is riddled with judgements, the sense that we’re not doing enough, and that someone is always doing it better. In reality, most of us are doing our best and that is enough. We don’t need to be perfect, we just need to be ourselves. Finding how we do that is sometimes the hardest part.

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Baby’s First Year – Welcoming Christmas

This year I’ve had the wonderful opportunity to take part in a poetry advent calendar over at ‘Sarah Writes Poems’. Make sure to pop over and check out the full calendar in all it’s Christmassy glory.

Sarah writes poems

We have wrapped this first Christmas in red paper.
Bow around the box to keep the anticipation
from jumping out of its cardboard hiding place
beneath our artificial tree with twinkly lights
all aglitter in their reflections on dark windows,
your face just as much a bulb of brilliance
when your smile lights the spark behind your eyes
and joy rushes into our room early
leaps onto the bedding and laughs
at all these presents we are opening
too much in love with each other
to contain ourselves.

I love this poem about baby’s first Christmas. It’s so full of love and joy.

Carol J Forrester is a writer, history geek, and new mum. Her time is spent balancing dirty nappies, half-finished poems, and ever vanishing book marks. Somewhat obsessed with mythology and folklore, ancient deities often sneak into her writing and she spends too much money on books her…

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Autumn Burns Bright – #DVersePoetsPub

It feels as if we are introducing you to Autumn. Slowly, and with care. Small hands, fingers fisted before bursting open like early fireworks. Breath-taking. Quite literally. Little face, big eyes, shadows for brows. All of these things change as the season steps in, lifts you from your bassinet, pinks your cheeks.

Look– at how much you’ve grown, at how the leaves have turned so quickly, these layers forming one over the other. Breath, and breeze, across your vocal chords. Outside a storm is cooing through the branches, changing notes, the strength of it lifting tree roots from their standings. When the winds settle, we sweep all the chaos beneath carpets, smooth the lines till they’re crisp. Pat you stomach. Tell you, that this fire is good.

The sky is beaten grey,
the metallic sheen of swords
unsheathed and waiting.

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