Donations are essential to keep Write Out Loud going    

home (Remove filter)


The Liverpool I know

I never felt I belonged

An observer

A watcher

Drinking in everything that came along

Revisiting memories so very clear

My city heart beats like I’m still here

Streets never changing

People stay the same

Time hasn’t dulled the reason for their fame,

I know I’m among them when I hear their cheerful roar

They clatter as they run by, with laughter ...

Read and leave comments (0)




I do not think

There is such 

a thing as

A place,

A person,

A scent,

A sound

A touch,

A taste,

that I could link 

To what the faceless 

masses call home.


I do not think,

There is a version of me that exists,

Where home is something I have,

And not something I miss.


The past,

The present,

The future,

All in which 

I do not fit.


Read and leave comments (2)



It's occurred to me that I really love the kind of things that represent a beautiful but gentle sadness because it feels like the most accurate reflection of real life and it feels the most like home.

Read and leave comments (2)


Poetrywriting to writeStranger sadness everyday lifehome


I found my bliss 

Heading south on the A23

She’s a rollerskate

He’s a magnet 

Like the easy way 

Water slides down your throat. 


Me, a pearl of existence 

Gently cooking in this black car 

Heat. From July. Discomfort 

In the way my baths

Are always stifling. 


A glissando of tyres 

Droning down to the coast 

Under a weatherless sheet 

Of baby blue...

Read and leave comments (2)



My place

The place I go to

it’s always there

as real as it can be

its real to me.

Somewhere near but a map will never show


It’s a house

a pond beside

and trees large and green

a winding path

a shady porch.

Not in a town but nearby

its quite most of the day.


I'll find it I know

and when I do

it will be my time.

Read and leave comments (1)




I’m renting,

No, I rent

Yes, I’m actually renting..

No, no, no, not looking to buy.


I don’t have rich parents

Yes, I should buy..

And how about you?

Fuck off.

Read and leave comments (0)





So close yet so far

Six hours in the car




Miles and Miles


One day, we will be reunited

Until then, 



Read and leave comments (1)





Brunette. Blonde

Black. Grey

I am auburn.


Hazel. Green

Brown. Blue

I am Grey.


Tabs, blanks

Pockets, sockets

Corners, middles

I am unique.


Flat pieces; four points

Innies and lock

The back

always Grey


Without me, you are not complete

With me, we are replete


A needle in the haystack

melancholic morning


Read and leave comments (0)


what i call home


I’ve lived around the world.

In fact I moved when I was 18,

I left my home and found another,


But was that home?


Layered bricks and walls with posters,

soft warm bed and candles lit by it

to make it



But was that home?


‘a house is not a home’

yet I still feel like I really miss

my house, where my mom and my cat

are waiting patien...

Read and leave comments (0)



Recipe for Reflection

I made dinner at 10:30 tonight.

Fried Kielbasa, macaroni and cheese, cinnamon applesauce, and 

buttermilk biscuits. It’s what I always eat when I’m missing home. 


I had everything finished and on the table, except for the biscuits.

I never remember to start them ahead of time.


So, I waited— watching them impatiently through the window in the oven door, 

and I could hear...

Read and leave comments (0)



Evening Routine

As I look around my comfortable prison,
I see my reflection in Sony’s single glass eye.
It’s dark and lifeless as he rests,
Waiting for his ward to point,
To burst into a technicolour song and dance
For the blank eyed audiences gormless pleasure.

I tense at the approaching vibrations,
The feline padding of tiny furred feet.
Rubbing against my legs, the vindictive threat
And intentions t...

Read and leave comments (0)



The Changing Breeze


Before the demolition

Turned my old Street

Into rubble

I went to steal some memories

Of our laughter & our struggle


I went to hopscotch down

The chalk lines of the past

Play tag with the echoes

Of ones who didn't last


Time had aged the street

Like a persons face too old

It wore the strain of many toils

From the ending of 'black gold'


I wal...

Read and leave comments (9)


My Home

I was destined to meet you,

And yet I had no clue.

You were the missing part to my smile,

The one who would walk with me, the length of The Nile.

With you I found my inner peace and joy,

The true love that no power will destroy.

Together I want to travel the roads to Rome,

And forever make you my home... 

Read and leave comments (0)



Me v The Moon

Nestled upon a pillow of cloud

The moon sat, big and fat

As I watched it from my garden

In a cul-de-sac


It didn't really do much

Just illuminate the sky

But, then I thought: that alone

Makes it a greater thing than I ! 


Read and leave comments (8)


All That Remains Is A Mere House

Tufts of dust 

Caper about my mosaic glass.

Blotches of ferric rust 

Offer me an unceremonious welcome at last.


Things I'd once befriended

Seem distant and cold.

Deaf ears to the chime of my footsteps

Tell me they've forgotten their companion of old.


I wonder when those mellifluous repartees

Turned into hollow echoes,

And the blithe breeze 

Into a stiflin...

Read and leave comments (7)




The pain
you feel in the days
before you leave
before you put
the life you have 
at risk

It´s this pain
that tells you
that this life
the life you had
was worth something

A home
a real home
should never be
an easy thing to leave

Read and leave comments (0)



How do we do this...?

How do we do this

One day 

After another

Of same 






When what should we have for dinner becomes

The highlight of the day

And a three mile walk becomes

The only reason to get dressed 

At all


How do we do this 

How long do we do this

It’s like labor 

The worst part 

Is not knowing how long 

it will l...

Read and leave comments (3)



The flower in my hand

I hold this flower
In my hand.
Yellow and perfect.
Like European star.
Like my heart
Is bound to this place.
My ear used to different languages,
My nose used to all these smells,
Smells of freedom.
In a continent of so many colours,
Blossoming friendships
And beautiful memories.
I keep this flower alive
As long as I can.
I know it will die
Like the freedom
That leaves us.



Read and leave comments (1)


EuropeEU bordershomesadfreedomflowerdiversitytravelling


where orange cumulonimbi are mirrored in stagnant rivers

where sleepy eyes blur swaying trees into dancing green monoliths

where the distant sound of crickets serenades the kangaroo’s carcass

where the salty coastal air dissolves onto arid tongues

where mother desert’s mounds hide her faithful servants

where dying gum trees groan as they accept the wind’s embrace

where nuggets of...

Read and leave comments (0)


homebeauty love homeland heartaustralia

Severe nights

Sitting down and cooling down

why does it feel so gown

like a dress made for a special night

never with a chance to win your own fight

pleasing someone else, that's not the fear

I want myself the closest near

And myself is full of energies in the mind

not asleep, one of a kind.

Read and leave comments (0)


How do I love? (Part 2)

How do I love?
Wondered the struggling eyes,
As sun's rays reached the pale face,
Into another morning of inquiry,
Whether to carry on or linger,
From, perhaps, a hope for two souls,
That had no home,
Wandering around,
Looking and searching,
For, if haven was impossible,
At least a shelter to thrive on,
But to only provide what it needs,
One must let go,
A sacrifice,
For hope to live...

Read and leave comments (0)


homelifelife's choiceslovepeace

Home is ....?

Is that our home, there, where we hang our hats?

There, where we boil our eggs and stroke the cat?

Knowing each cranny of our ingle nook

We turn the pages of our well thumbed book.

Home, sweet home!, yet, there is still an unease.

Cat-like it comes, our peace to paw and tease.

Close the castle door! Put the kettle on!

This is my chez-moi!, - for, how ever long?

We stand at...

Read and leave comments (7)



Past's Prologue

The trees still sentinel stood

their green leaves whispering

rustling gently in the wood


in the same soft breeze


and I know some summer birds

sang in their canopy

a requiem without words


'neath the same blue sky


that through every passing year

quietly watched over me

safe within Ceredig's sphere


It has been too long a time

since our firs...

Read and leave comments (0)





I am transported by

a narrow orange moon

                and a million stars

                the still cool air

                the silence of the yard


I am welcomed by

a single ghostly owl swoop

                over the sheep fields

                the creak of my gate

                the scratch of my key on the lock



the silent click...

Read and leave comments (1)



A Million Ordinaries

I’m ordinary and that’s ok

Extraordinary is made of

A million ordinaries anyway


I can feel Magnolia

Reflecting sheen 

From her glossy dark leaves


It’s early afternoon

Rays warm my left shoulder

My car window lets just enough in 


The faint rattle in my back seat

Plays a bridge

To the melody of my AC


The turns of my car, so familiar

The rout...

Read and leave comments (4)


drivehomeordinary thingstreesflowersbirds

Letters in Wartime

Letters in Wartime
Words on paper
Nothing more
Telling the story of a soldier
Or airman or sailor
Letters from the front
Sent home 
To a sweetheart
Or family
First read by the censor
Telling of longing to see you
And hardship in battle
Seen thru with determination
And a love of country
Fighting for them
The loved ones
Far from where
He is stationed
Saying about his mates
Some wh...

Read and leave comments (1)



Heart is where home is

Home is where the heart is
but where is the heart
It lies in wonder and glory
Or is it in the fame of society

I can't seem to find home

Is it in the light rays of hope
or in shallow waters of pain
A house never feels like home
or is it just the lonely heart speaking

I can't seem to find heart
for since the beginning
 it's divided
into two part

So maybe i'll keep looking
for t...

Read and leave comments (0)



When I have gone

what waits this room

with its vacuum

                where I sat?



my chair sits sightless

musing at my absence

midst space bereft

                   my music play on?


After I have left

ask my empty bed

all sheeted void

                about my dreams



my mattress dent

minding my long night wraiths

maintain my ...

Read and leave comments (0)



Kicked Out of Heaven.

I finally figured it out
How to get up there pre-death.
I crawled my way up to you
Without leaving my own bed.

I tried to break you out
But they wouldn't let you leave.
I tried to break you out 
To bring you home with me.

I got kicked out of heaven
No they won't let me back.
They said if I ever tried again
To prepare myself for attack.

I'll go back everyday 
If I had the slighte...

Read and leave comments (0)



Sunset Over Lupset (August 1968)

Sunset Over Lupset (August 1968)


Lupset sunsets smelled of bonfires,

undercut with new mown grass,

wild mint by the kitchen window,

treasures in the strawberry patch.


Father sat with pint of shandy,

The mower cooling in the shade,

the rake stowed by the garden shed,

the kids with sparkling lemonade.


Summer sun dips on the estate

dragging shadows from th...

Read and leave comments (3)


council estatesummerchildhoodgardeningfamilyhome


It was literally th eworst 

and my sister says her life is cursed..

The first day we lived their was crap

it certainly felt like a trap

The tennants where junkies and thugs

who tried to sell us their drugs

it started with brian scott 

who clearly lied alot

he showed up late 

he said it was great

and i was left in a state

The plumbing was terribly bad

The place i...

Read and leave comments (0)


The Close

Grey bin days

Ash spilling


From beneath


Loose-fitting metal lids

Carried back- breakingly

To the monstrous wagon

Limping it’s way

Around the close

Like a club-footed relic


Behind the chipped

Leaded glass of number thirteen

A terrible gargoylian face

Pressed up close

Stares out

Mrs Ashall has seen a football fly over her neat ...

Read and leave comments (8)


Childhood memoriesfamilyfeelingsgrowing uphomeparentssecuritysister

Homeless Love

She wanted to give love

It was looking for a home something permeant not temporary like a shelter

Feeling one with warmth, joy, smiles, compassion, honesty, trust, kindness, and remediation of love

"She was a little all over the place, that was for sure. But the good news is that when she loved, she loved big. And if she loved you, you knew she loved you You never had to wonder"


Read and leave comments (1)


Home (20/11/2017)


Keep finding bits and pieces of

Myself strewn across my mind

Only to be blown away again

And what little pieces I have left

Shake and shiver in fear.

Knowing the horizon has better days

I strive onward, searching

There will always be a place

Not a hole, but a safe space

In my heart

For you to rest your head awhile

And know that I will always love you.



Read and leave comments (1)



Earth Treasure

What is that glint

                as the sod breaks and crumbles:

a sparkling hint

                of discovery

                as I dig the dusty summer soil?

This old garden has gained lost treasures

                of man, woman and child for centuries -

                What lies uncovered?


Teased from the clod

                I find a tiny glass heart and this ...

Read and leave comments (0)




How does a girl become a woman?
The first time her royal blue skirt
Was stained with drops of blood
Tainted childhood's innocence
Of fertility's awakening.

Rules had chained her feet from crossing
The bridge towards a boy playing
His piece in a saxophone
Lullabies of attraction
A petty love from the ashes of lust.

Chains rang as she heavily walked
Up the stairs of her fantasies

Read and leave comments (1)




Home is in a lot of places

In a the bottom of a coffee cup, inhaling and looking up to see your friends beautiful smile because you made a funny face.

In a national park breathing the crisp air, the utter contentment of being in a place that is only yourself and the earth, with a thousand days before and after you.

Dancing in the waves, the ocean so a part of your life that your very vein...

Read and leave comments (0)

homemomentsthe little things

Our City Of Many Bridges


In 'our land', 
which retains its leafiness, 
despite how unseasonably 
a fine few are fallen.

Just beneath fury's fierce flame;
our city's many bridges
a metaphor for so much more
defiantly stand still.

I pray today, it's not just me
who hears them screaming silently
'To join together is our fate
we will not hate, we will not hate.'


Read and leave comments (0)


LondonHomebridgeLondon BridgeWestminsterWestminster Bridgedefianthope not hate.

Made of Liverpool

I am made of Liverpool which means it all

Proud and mischievous born for fun

It's in our blood to want for more

More of everything to stir our souls

We're all together when the world crowds in

Ever faithful to the passions that stir

Red for ever on a golden cause

Blues together from across the park

Fridays, Saturdays music and dance 

Laughter, humour on long walks home


Read and leave comments (0)



Now the lights are coming on
pink and orange, white and blue
from this distance they seem to melt into an aura
a haze hung above this haunted city

A clock tower looms over the rails
passing through this place I've never stopped here
I know nothing about how it moves or swells or stalls
but the lights all blanket it so heavenly
I think to myself, I'd like to return someday

Always, I fi...

Read and leave comments (0)

adolescencehomepassing throughteenagetrains

Sailing an Inland Sea


This poem is for all those still searching for home.


Sailing an Inland Sea


A stark white galley, sail aloft,

Knifes liquid mirrors, softly heaving,

Its pattering stem a story-teller

For fishers caught

On idle frontiers, poised

Between vaults of washed cerulean.


Its Master sighs to distant shores, yearning

For Phoenicia's Thalassa; a place of purple -


Read and leave comments (0)




A poem written after lunch today.

Read and leave comments (0)



Christmas can be many things to many people & its most feared aspect is probably the way

it can emphasise loneliness or want.  My message is "be positive" & grateful for what you

have, whether it be the company of family, friends or just your own.    God Bless Us All!


I'm meeting the brother this Saturday

When he arrives at Water...

Read and leave comments (5)


Sweet Isabella

Baby girl is home

Mom and dad so very proud

Sweet little baby

Read and leave comments (2)



eidolic dread horses

have scarred your slumber

and even your furniture

has silent, open mouthed, nightmares

over the too soon dead school friends

who never ended their crossings

where there she stoops in shroud

ghastly knelt as in prayer

and you can’t see through the tricks

of light that scream “she is there”

your crumpling chest  boiling

as the bones...

Read and leave comments (0)





Old factory was due to be knocked down and turned into rubble, recycle the materials and use the land again. A new start? Yet this building is structurally fine, a few broken windows and missing tiles, the idea of demolition is okay but you lose the heritage and a piece of history. Is that a good thing? How about doing it up and converting it to flats?

Keeping the building...

Read and leave comments (2)


New poem: Hollow Hymns

This is our final destination:

No Man's Land terminal,

terminating at the end of the lane Cain paved.

This is place is an airport slowly murdering us with boredom

with nothing but dim, echoed muzak

and our haggard,

baggy-eyed reflection in shop windows for company.


This is where we roam:

for anything to hunt and gather

on these barren litter-beaten st...

Read and leave comments (1)

psychogeographypoetrycaptain of the rantSpoken Word poetryhome


On National Poetry Day Jo Bell tasked me to write a poem about being on a train and travelling from London to Manchester and *not* being able to go to poetry events.  I'd just done my first day at the Barbican and was commuting back home.  This is what came out.


Across England there are homes.
In pubs and streets and library waiting 
Places I could turn up, call my home

Read and leave comments (0)



I grew up in a country of

                        fish & chips

                    & 9 to 5.

With jet back hair and dark skin

I stood out sorely at school,

                                at work,

                                in the street.


I longed to visit that place, elsewhere,

Which my parents always spoke of.

The place where I would fit in.


Read and leave comments (0)


This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message