Prompts are coming…

Yes, I am in Game of Thrones mourning.

In anticipation of my inability to juggle writing and teaching, I have spent the best part of an evening thinking of a way to keep writing when work gets busy. School starts again next week and ever since beginning this blog last October, I always struggle to keep up the momentum of posting regularly. So, what’s the plan?

Weekly prompts for you and I to share. This evening, I have written down words and phrases I have either seen somewhere or just pulled from thin air. I will be sharing each prompt in the following way:

  • On Wednesday, I will pick out the prompt from a hat (toiletry bag, but that seemed less exciting and magical…) and share it on Twitter and Facebook. Follow the blog there, if you would like a head start.
  • On Friday/Saturday, I will post my response to the prompt, here on My Screaming Twenties and share as usual through social media.

The reason for doing this, is to keep me inspired and writing. However, what I would love would be to see your responses too and share them. I am all for cutesy, let’s pat each other on the back circles. To get involved:

  • On Twitter – reply to the original tweet/use #screamingtwenties/@blogtwenties in your response!
  • On Facebook – post your response in the comments section.
  • On WordPress (if you’re fancy) – use the prompt as your title (and in your response too if you wish)/link back to my response for that week/post a link to your post in the comments of my response.

I will be retweeting, liking, commenting and reblogging (cutesy, let’s pat each other on the back style).

Ultimately, this idea is to keep me writing and disciplined so regardless of if anyone joins in, I hope you enjoy what I create. Oh, and this begins, today!

Side note, I will still continue posting other stuff sporadically. But, trust me, from next Monday when students return and grades, books and Macbeth occupy most of my brain, sporadic can soon turn into silence.

Thank you for reading!


Popping Pearls (2010)

Cages and bars –

Cocktails swimming under diamond mirrors,

Cages and bars –

Rattling against glistening mascara eyes,


Cages and bars –

Dancing hips hypnotising every glance,

Cages and bars –

Crying through baby blushing cheeks,


Cages and bars –

Tuxedo creatures erupting in camera flashes,

Cages and bars –

Clawing at the lock of sewn sensuous lips,


Screaming behind irons, swivelling blond curls

Around her neck, left popping pretty pearls.



This is old but perhaps one poem from my teenage years which doesn’t make me bury my head in my hands.

Image credit.

Star sick

You held a magnifying glass

to the edge

of the earth

glimmering in starlight

middle finger extended

out to the sun

which glared back,

with coldness

only a star sick

of rock hurtling

toward it

could muster.


Our rage against


fossil fuels

social media prose

an inhumane attitude


employing ASBO bracelet



The glass you held

trembled in your shaky

anti-depressant hands

as smoke seared

into the icebergs

sloppy and mush

whilst Kardashians loom

into view

internet connection

giving voice

to an alphabet of Ks

and the dying.


You held a magnifying glass

to the edge

of the earth

I jeered

as smoke began to shape

fingers crossed for a flame

to erase this shit show,





Inspired by the wonderful and brutally honest Live Mi by Oldepunk on RamJet Poetry.

Image credit.

Sherbet Lemon

I love the way you speak,

the way your voice melts

like sherbet lemon drops

and your words weave tapestries

along my spine

tingling chills,

I adore your desire to pause

to breathe in


bearing enamelled claws.




Image credit.

Moving day

I miss you,

your blue-eyed stare

and the tension which formed

like dust at first

then bricks,

to build a ten foot wall

between us.


Neither of us knew

you left a 2×2 room in my heart


when you left.




Image credit.


Days travel like minutes

hitching rides on freight trains

going nowhere but not here.

I procrastinate

until all I eat is guilt

swallowing seconds better spent

than daydreaming at windows

and kettles which melt

into tiles, as my vision blurs

from staring too hard.

Friendships Based on Fiction

The first excerpt from ‘Swear to Me’, a collection of poetry (being released on 0ctober 24th in Canada and the US) to raise money to help fund a project aiming to help young people tackle their own wellbeing, healthily. Please support this in anyway possible, it is wonderful. I also have the honour of having one of poems published in it.


Excellent work by Harry, enjoy!

Harry's Room

I have a habit, when I am alone, of making myself vulnerable.
I exist on the brink of tears
and my heart throbs with tender yearning
as I absorb the beauty of other peoples’ artwork.

Hard armour melts into soft blanket
which slips away,
leaving me exposed to the world.

This experience is religious.
The pages of John Berger exist as my prayer mat;
the voice of Keaton Henson my choir.

I pass each work through my hands like beads of a rosary.
I become somehow heavy with emotion,
yet light with passion.

The plucking of strings can send shivers up my spine,
and beautiful prose lifts the hairs on my arms.
How is it that an artist can create such a physical reaction
using nothing more words,
or paint?

I have a habit, when I am alone, of making myself vulnerable.
But only then does the world make sense…

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