Lyra is a brilliant poetry festival held in Bristol each year. As part of the festival there is a poetry slam. This is a poetry competition where poets battle it out to be crowned the Lyra Grand Slam winner! I was really pleased to make it through to the qualifying rounds this year, and via Zoom I performed a poem called ‘#NewProfilePic’…
At the qualifying rounds, each poet performs and is scored by a mix of scores from three judges (all professional poets) and votes from the audience. I was thrilled to make it through to the grand slam final! This was held at the iconic St Georges’ in Bristol, in front of hundreds of people watching both in person and via a livestream. It was an experience I’ll never forget – performing with so many other amazing poets on such a big stage! I chose to perform a poem that’s really important to me. It’s called ‘Little Jo’ and it’s me as an adult revisiting younger versions of myself, saying what I felt I might have needed to hear at those points in my life. You can hear it below. Check out www.lyrafest.com for more information about the festival.
This is a poem I originally wrote years ago, but never felt able to share. The idea behind the poem is me as an adult, revisiting younger versions of myself to say the things I might have needed to hear at those points in my life. I often use refrains in my poetry, and the refrain in this one is there to separate the different versions of me, as well as acknowledging the fact that as a kid, if a random stranger came up to me and started giving me advice I probably wouldn’t hang around! So adult me would have to make it quick if they were going to catch me, and then make me listen.
I didn’t have an easy time as a kid, and there’s something profoundly meaningful about speaking out loud the things I needed to hear and know then, but didn’t. The voice I use is deeply self-compassionate and hopeful, but it’s also honest, firm and direct. I think I needed all of those types of voices growing up!
I found the original version of the poem again recently, and hated it. I hated it because so many of the lines and verses reflected a version of me that I’m trying so hard not to be now. I wrote lines and even whole verses about wrapping everything up into a nice little package of transformation for myself and others, communicating that one day everything will be perfect. I hinted that success meant I would eventually be TOTALLY FINE ALL OF THE TIME and would achieve all of these great things, that my value would come from those achievements and how I used my story to help others. Oh and of course that I would be this strong, unbreakable and independent person who didn’t need anyone’s help ever again.
So, I rewrote it. I love the concept and I think it has power so I didn’t want to bin it completely. But I have binned some of the messages I now recognise as toxic or unhealthy, and I’ve replaced some with a more realistic view of what it means to thrive and be whole, or at least my view of what that means.
Now, I love it, and it was great fun to perform it recently in front of a live audience at the 2024 Bristol Lyra Poetry Festival. You can read more about my involvement in that here. You can listen to the poem below, and if you need the words they’re also below. I hope you enjoy it, and I also hope that you have the opportunity to say some of the things that ‘Little You’ might have needed to hear.
Hey there little Jo, listen up before you go Because I’ve got some things to tell you that I think you need to know.
Now I’m not a stranger and you’re not in any danger Think of me as like your very own Power Ranger. See I wouldn’t neglect or reject I’d protect you and I’d interject when they disrespect you. I’d be there at the hospital when they called your name When they prodded and poked you and didn’t explain When they tried in vain to take all that pain Well I’d hold your little hand or play a silly game.
Hey there little Jo, listen up before you go Because I’ve got some things to tell you that I think you need to know.
By now you’re a little older and the world’s grown a little colder And the ways you feel different just seem to be getting bolder As the weight of this world starts to rest on your shoulders. I know the mould they’ve made for you just doesn’t fit And it hurts and harms as you squeeze into it Well eventually that mould will start to split As you accept who you are bit by bit.
Hey there little Jo, listen up before you go Because I’ve got some things to tell you that I think you need to know.
Now come the names, the stones and sticks The lies, betrayals, punches and kicks. I wish I could be there to tell you they’re wrong They think you’re weak but I know you’re strong You should never have faced that on your own But I’m here to tell you you were never alone You won’t get that yet but hang in there Jo Cause this all turns around trust me I know.
Hey there little Jo, listen up before you go Because I’ve got some things to tell you that I think you need to know.
Your eyes look at me now and they’re full of hate Cause you’ve had enough there’s too much on your plate Your heart’s been replaced by a solid dead weight So to make it seem lighter you self-medicate. You don’t want to know but you’ve got to learn That in the morning the pain just returns Like fighting the smoke while the fire still burns It’ll never give you the peace you deserve.
Hey there little Jo, listen up before you go Because I’ve got some things to tell you that I think you need to know.
Well you made your escape and I’ve gotta say well done Cause I know there were times when it felt like they’d won And those very same people said you’d never overcome But where are they now? There’s none left no not one. See you’re different now and you’re starting to dream And you’re getting that help from the mental health team You’re doing the work and fuck does it hurt But it’ll heal you and help you feel your worth
Hey there little Jo, listen up before you go Because I’ve got some things to tell you that I think you need to know.
I’m nearly done but before I leave There’s something about pain you need to believe. You long to be relieved from the stuff that you grieve And although not naive it takes time to achieve. Just hold on be patient and give it some time If it was all done at once Jo you wouldn’t survive But if you trust the process one day you’ll thrive As what’s real and your dreams start to beautifully collide.
So see ya little Jo, I’m off now I’ll go I hope these things I’ve told you are helpful for you to know.
When I walk to work I always walk across a pedestrian crossing. It’s near a primary school so it’s always very busy at the time I cross it, with others walking to work like me, and parents taking their kids to school. Very often there are queues of cars waiting to pass as so many people cross it frequently. I sometimes enjoy watching people cautiously step out onto the crossing, waving and thanking drivers on each side of the road. It’s probably a British thing isn’t it? That tendency to over-thank when someone does something relatively trivial for us, or in the case of a pedestrian crossing just not run us over with their car! Anyway there’s something cool about traffic stopping for you, about going first, about being the priority. This poem is about that.
It was my 8th wedding anniversary recently (11 years together!) and I was inspired to write this by another social media post I’d seen. If you press play below you can hear me introducing the poem which will help it to make sense! I really like how this poem captures the love in its most ordinary sense, the everyday, mundane moments alongside the life-altering, earth-shattering ones, good and bad.
For anyone finding it hard to hope, even when there are reasons to hope.
Today you tried to give me my hope back. But I couldn’t take it, too afraid I’d break it, Or watch it slip from my grip and feel its loss, Like water poured on candy floss.
Today you tried to give me my hope back. But it’s too bright, the light of it hurts my eyes. It’s been gone for so long I’ve forgotten what it’s like, Maybe darkness is better than fading light.
Today you tried to give me my hope back. But my hands are full holding this shovel, as I struggle to clear the wreckage and rubble. Memories of the dead still circling my head. Why rebuild if it all just gets smashed up again?
Today you tried to give me my hope back. Like a giggling kid holding candy floss, Saying take it taste it just smile and embrace it. But I’m filled with dread as I look up ahead, Because clouds are forming over our heads. The water will pour and next time take even more, I can’t take more loss, can’t cope with the cost, I’d rather go hungry than taste candy floss.
This spoken word poem is called ‘Heart’. If you’re struggling right now I hope this helps you remember how strong you are. Words below if you need them.
The strongest part of me will always be my heart. It gets battered and shattered it breaks apart, Still it restarts. You can smash it and bash it, hide the crash cart, Still I’ll revive it, still I’ll survive it, I’ll stay alive.
The strongest part of me will always be my heart. You can squeeze it until it bleeds you can cut off the air it needs, Still I’ll breathe. You can shake it and break it make it into a thousand pieces. Still each piece will beat beat beat, It will not cease.
The strongest part of me will always be my heart. It’s cracked but still intact despite every attack, It fights back. Made of rock but still soft, no love lost. Tough enough to pump a body full of blood. It won’t give up.
The strongest part of me will always be my heart. It’s been in despair and it’s needed care but It does repair. So when you feel distress when everything’s a mess When you feel like what’s coming is cardiac arrest, Rest your hand on your chest.
I’m in my primary school hallway Council coloured walls and closed doors Between classrooms standing on coffee stained floors A gateway
Lessons are in session but I’ve got the principal’s blessing A hall pass of sorts permission to explore To wander and ponder and search for more An adventure
I’ve never been out of place in these liminal spaces Always sat on the edges always outside the fences Finding friends as I walk this way – a kid sent out, another running late Familiar faces
Did I mention I stole that hall pass while in detention? An open store cupboard door I just couldn’t ignore It was a dance between chance and circumstance Divine intervention
So when they try to keep you confined When they insist you must fit and colour inside the lines Resist it and show them a different existence A life undefined
This spoken word poem below was inspired by this photo, taken by my wife while we were on a weekend away recently.
It became more than a photo and took on a deep meaning for me – how sometimes just smiling and living fully are acts of rebellion against all the despair and hopelessness we can sometimes experience in our lives or read about on the news. Not many of us have had an easy time in the last few years, and sometimes it’s just lovely when a moment of joy like this is captured.
I hope it inspires you to be you, to recognise joy when it finds you, to live fully, and to love your imperfections and quirks! The full words to the poem are below the film if you need them.
I uploaded a new profile pic today, The one I made you take. The one where I sat with my back to those cool wooden slats and you made me laugh, Reminiscing about that clip from that show on Netflix. I realised how brilliant it is to exist. How existence is resistance to all the shit-ness I’ve witnessed, My smiling an uprising an insistence of aliveness.
I uploaded a new profile pic today, The one I made you take. No I’m not holding a mic and it’s not with my wife or my kids, Ok I don’t have any but if I did, They wouldn’t be in a picture or a visual description of me, They wouldn’t define who I am or who I can be, don’t you see? I’m enough when alone I have worth on my own.
I uploaded a new profile pic today, The one I made you take. Light is shining right above my head, A reminder a spotlight on the good times ahead, Or the divine guidance and kindness that’s been mine every step. There’s a part like a shard that’s pierced the darkness, Just a shimmer just a glimmer but it still softens the starkness.
I uploaded a new profile pic today, The one I made you take. It shows my tattoos including the one that’s still new, Like me not yet healed and it’s partly concealed its design not quite yet fully revealed. If you zoomed in you’d see wrinkles and dimples, crinkles and pimples, imprints on my skin, But these marks are battle scars I’ve made my peace with.
I uploaded a new profile pic today, The one I made you take. And okay I’ll spend way too much of my day, having a play in Photoshop But I won’t change, rearrange or display what I’m not. Maybe a filter is needed, some aligning and refining, Some shifting and lifting and colour defining. But this picture will still be the real me, Both who I am now and who I’m trying to be.
For anyone trying to heal – I hope you have days like this. Days when there are little rays of light shining through all the darkness, and signs of hope everywhere you look. Keep going.
This morning I saw a small stream of light, Just a tad, just a crack in the blackout blind. I didn’t rush past it, I sat while it lasted, I breathed and believed it, just stopped and received it.
I thought maybe this feeling, maybe it’s real. Maybe it feels like I’m starting to heal.
I sat by the window with a mug full of tea, Just let myself be, just watched the steam. What if just like it I’m starting to rise? The haze could be fading, there could be blue skies.
I thought maybe this feeling, maybe it’s real, Maybe it feels like I’m starting to heal.
I walked through the park, saw signs of the spring, Roots sprouting shoots, and birds starting to sing. Just like us it gets made through a breaking, In the harshness of darkness, in the pain of the waiting.
I thought maybe this feeling, maybe it’s real, Maybe it feels like I’m starting to heal.
Of course I knew as I thought it all through, That’s there’s still more to come, and more work to do. These buds and shoots they’re not yet flowers, Spring sun can quickly become April showers.
But maybe today, maybe just for one day, A pause, a thought till I go on my way, Maybe just maybe I’ll let myself say, Maybe just maybe this might be ok. Maybe this feeling, maybe it’s real, Maybe it feels like I’m starting to heal.
Hope is heavy. Sometimes I cannot hold it. My arms ache with the weight of it. I have to let it go, Let it drop to the ground, Embrace the free-fall.
In the letting go, In the slow motion of the fall, I notice someone who loves me, Catching it, holding it, protecting it. Keeping it safe, Until I am strong enough to hold it for myself.
What else can love be? We hold hope for each other, When we cannot hold it for ourselves. We raise it high above our heads, We become the searchlight, the beacon, the lighthouse. Until the darkness lifts.
