profile image

Georgina Titmus

Updated: Tue, 24 May 2022 11:26 am

Contact via WOL logo


Georgina left home at 16, lived in London, Sydney, Toronto, Cardiff; worked in hotels, a care home, as an assistant warden for the YHA, in Harrods selling lingerie... In her late twenties she took 'A' Levels then graduated in Philosophy from Durham University. She lives in Cornwall, sees for her sight-impaired husband and has been writing poetry since 2015. She's been published in: The Journal, South, Orbis, The Frogmore Papers, Runcible Spoon, The Moth, Fenland Poetry Journal, Shot Glass Journal. She has twice been shortlisted in the Bridport Prize (2015 & 2016) and was Highly Commended in the YorkFest Poetry Competition 2018. She was shortlisted in the Aesthetica Creative Writing Award 2019, the Bedford International Writing Competition 2019, the Brian Dempsey Memorial Prize 2020 and the Aesthetica Creative Writing Award 2020. Also shortlisted in The Hedgehog Poetry Press White Label - Huit - First Collection Competition. In the 1990s she co-wrote Satellite City with Boyd Clack (under her previous name of Jane Clack); a sitcom broadcast on BBC Wales.


A Seagull Like characters in a Chekhov play, we slight each other, fan ourselves, complain. A seagull, feathered adolescent grey, deflowers soft tarmac; entrails pressed into memory. Oh, this heat. First published - Orbis Little Blue Salt Bag He bribed me with Smiths Salt’n’Shake in exchange for a kiss. I knew never to take sweeties from strangers but he wasn’t a stranger. And he assured me crisps didn’t count. The prick of his nicotined moustache on my 8 year old lips— Let’s look for the little blue salt bag, he said. First published - The Frogmore Papers A Small Hotel Polyester uniform, white apron; pile beneath no-nonsense shoes. Corridors of spyholes, you scan your key-card, call out – Housekeeping! Kick a wedge to secure the door. Bins overflow, beds in disarray; you lift pillows one, two, three, four, but no appreciation of a bright and neat stay, so you turn on the radio – There’s a Small Hotel; carry your bucket to the en-suite. Kneel at the shrine of the un-flushed loo. First published - The Moth

All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.

Do you want to be featured here? Submit your profile.


No comments posted yet.

If you wish to post a comment you must login.

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

Find out more Hide this message