I recently submitted a poem to @quartervida for her National Poetry Month Collection called “Rabbit” and it has been chosen as part of that selection!

It may not be much to some, but for me I really admire her taste, thoughts, views, freedom of expression and so I feel humbled.

Check out the other writers in the collection as their work is also inspiring.

Thank you!


National Poetry Month

I am inspired by @quartervida for this post to nominate a poet from my hometown London for National Poetry Month!

Her name is Ayo known to most as Golden Blue  (@Goldencoat)

The reason why I have dedicated this post to  her, is not only to share the love, but express the depth of this woman! EVERY TIME I see a post of hers on social media or see her perform on stage (which I admit I need to do more often) I always feel I can connect in such a DEEP and refreshing way. She’s so nutritional in such a soulful spiritual way and she never seists to amaze me by the work she does, either leading intergenerational workshops with youth groups, creative workshops, campaigning with the local community for racial and social solidarity. She’s a poet, musician, sister, teacher, role model, and so much more. (I realise I sound like a commercial advertisement…”and so much more”, HA!)

She really is a force to be reckoned with.

Here is a recent poem of hers, bonne appetite!


“There’s a storm coming in from the west”

The captain just announced it
But at least no one is dead
Touched down on the docks
We’re my ancestors bled

Sure it must have, briefly
Came into our heads
As the landing was aborted
And the plane shook in the wind

As the thick cloud smothered sight
And the seat belts were fastened tight
Allah protect us this night
Let not our fears soar too high

But no one seems too grateful
Or claps for the pilot as we land
People are huffing and puffing
Not seeing greater works at hand

It’s pouring down with dread
And I just left the sunshine
Wishing I’d missed this flight
But knowing it’s all in God’s time

And my minds on other things
On those poor poor people
Whose lives have been snatched
So brutally
Because of this whirlpool of evil

And as the crisp cold air
Touches my face
I think of the slave driver
Who wrote Amazing Grace

The sound is not sweet
The silence is sour
I’m just keeping my eyes
On the final hour…