The somewhat forgotten art of poetry
Plus a sneak preview of a poem on my Notes app
Sneak peek above at one of my recent poems about a dear friend, The Glue
I used to shy away from poetry, despite having written it for most of my life—sometimes without even realising it.
It was a word I once associated with love-sick souls pining over unrequited romance, men in the Second World War scribbling beautiful yet broken thoughts on the backs of cigarette packets à la Siegfried Sassoon, or something to be mocked and ridiculed. Was that society telling me that, or was it just me?
If Rupi Kaur,
, and have taught me anything—or indeed Billy Shakespeare himself—it’s that poetry is something to be celebrated. It’s about depth, reading between the lines, and emotion laced between letters in a way that prose simply cannot replicate.Its brilliance lies in its brevity.
In the spaces between the words.
Whether it’s a 16-line sonnet or the sharp impact of a haiku, poetry has the power to move mountains. For centuries, it has shaped culture, history, and identity—yet somehow, it still feels like an art form on the fringes.
Why don’t we celebrate it more?
To be fair, I think the tides are turning. Instagram poets like Chloe and Whitney have undoubtedly helped bring poetry back into the mainstream. But the industry itself? That’s another story.
Many publishers still refuse poetry submissions, especially from writers without agents. Maybe they fear being inundated, maybe they see it as a niche, or maybe it’s just an internal logistics thing. Whatever the reason, getting published as a poet is undeniably difficult.
I know firsthand because I’m trying to do it myself.
My debut collection, written in 2024, is looking for a home. (So if any literary agents or publishers happen to be reading this, let’s talk.)
In the meantime, you can find a selection of my poetry over at The C Word Magazine, alongside some of my favourite poetry quotes below.
But first, let me leave you with this:
Let’s celebrate the somewhat forgotten art of poetry. Let’s savour our words and shout about them from the rooftops like Ewan McGregor singing to Nicole Kidman over Paris from the top of an elephant-shaped home in Moulin Rouge.
It’s a niche reference, but I think it stands.
“If the ocean can calm itself, so can you.
We are both salt water mixed with air.”
— Meditation by Nayyirah Waheed
“You’re a defiant act of creation.
You’re a whole solar system pretending to be a person.”
— Elisabeth Hewer, from World Inside Expanding in Wishing For Birds (someone I actually know from school)
“Kitchen roll, bleach, kiwis /
I’m sorry, I don’t think this friendship is serving me emotionally, and maybe we need a break? /
GYNAE APPOINTMENT BOOK /
Sellotape, wrapping paper, new socks /
‘I am not free while any woman is unfree, even when her shackles are very different from my own.’ /
What if everything is a simulation within a simulation, you know? /
PLUCK EYEBROWS /
Why is everyone calling their kid Finn now?!?! /
Must read more! /
Take the train from Paddington at 10:33 /
WASH HAIR /
Password: MyName123 /
‘Dear X, sorry for the delay on sending this work over, won’t happen again. Kind regards.’ /
I think dying alone is probably better than dying angry /
Oranges, sourdough, hummus.”
— Women’s Notes Apps Be Like by Chloe Grace Laws
“your heart is tattooed with scars
etched with the names of people
who are constellations now”
— Whitney Hanson, Harmony
“My nerves are turned on. I hear them like
musical instruments. Where there was silence
the drums, the strings are incurably playing. You did this. Pure genius at work. Darling, the composer has stepped into fire.”
— Anne Sexton, The Kiss
“Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken.”
— William Shakespeare, Sonnet 116 (I read this one at my brother’s wedding.)