Poems & Creative Writing

You Me Us

Louise Taylor – PhD Candidate with School of History, Anthropology, Philosophy and Politics at Queens University Belfast


You are another me and I see you well

I wince at your inaction, your inertia, your intangible legacy of non-plussed, nonchalance

Your mysteriously, vibrantly, deafeningly silent, non- participation in anarchic anti-apocalyptic, protests for life preservation

Share your secrets, share your wisdom, bestow me with your disconnection, resurrection and inane, rumblings and fumblings of non-love

I raucously rage and cognitively riot at your carelessness, your carefreeness, your blissful, wistful ignorance

You breathe, I breathe

You bleed, I bleed

You die, I die

I see YOU clearly and not at all

Business as usual or despair all around

We are each other and we are dangerously alive.


I am mad, many know it, few disbelieve it and I wholeheartedly embrace it

This madness is my haven, because the sea of sentiments are swishing, swirling and unleashing a wildness that only a mother can contain

My mother – the earth

She holds me

She scolds me

She guides ME home

“Who?” she challenges “Could be sane at a time like this?”

Let the witches cackle

Let the unruly women rise like the swelling, pulsating, ravenous, furious seas

Let the emotions explode forth and allow the oppressed, battered, bruised and beaten feminine to rip through my mind, my body and my soul

We need it now more than ever- we need mad warrior women

We need maternal wrath

I am me, I am you, I am us

And this is wrong!


“Disturb the comfortable” the priest declared in our earth heating meeting

The goosebumps made their presence known, to show me the way

We must disrupt, disobey, alarm and disarm

We must impede, confront, alter, revolutionise and transcend

The earth is not in danger, we are

The earth will persevere, we won’t

The earth has been whispering and now she wails- like a banshee she is wailing

Eventually she will weep.

She warned us, she kept telling us, she tried to save us, but we didn’t listen

We kept raping, pillaging, murdering, hoarding and rewarding ourselves for harming our mother

There is no US when we keep doing this

Who killed us in the end?

They did

Poems & Creative Writing


Devina A. Millenia
Ba(S) Student in international politics and conflict studies

he wants to scream, more than


he wishes the strangle will loosen up

a bit

just a little bit

it will be enough

it will allow him, at least to speak

to beg for help

instead of loosen up, it gets stronger

he feels it

the air inside his lungs is vanishing

he no longer feels his bloodstream

it suffocated him

it hurts

it just inevitable for him to think that

this is it

the moment that sooner or later,

his heart will stop in a blink of his


at this time

he realises,

there is no point of screaming

they will never listen

just why?

“what did I do wrong”

was the last time they hear him along

with his last breath

Poems & Creative Writing

In times of Physical Isolation…

Sarah Kenny
MA Candidate in Violence, Terrorism and Security

light of a clear blue morning /

lapsed first half-marathon /

pink moon /

raindrops on roses /

golden gorse and meadow snoozes /

windowpane rainbows /

empty picnic tables /

hollow, whistling wind /

oblivious mallards /

pleading hands /

a new normal? /

Beacon of Hope /

bridges, seeking /

PB & J among daffodils /

street art /

vessel at standstill /

holding back gaze and greetings from towpath wanderers, on edge /

homemade hummus with sweet cherry tomatoes and cilantro, or coriander as they say /

calls with Papa and Grams, tucked away in warm Bethesda brick /

my updates across the ocean ride a new wave of emotion every hour/

yearnings, yearnings for home /

find a job! before hiring freezes settle in, recession—

it’s no time for euphemisms here: depression /

fatigued in the morning, weary too early /

books to plow through, clear the shelf! suitcase stress /

podcasts = productivity = forward /

walking lectures in the morning, gritted teeth, swishing ponytail, importance /

Syria, Mexico, Colombia > displacement, narcos, murder /

no room for self-pity here,

safe in my flat with fresh daisies and flickering tealights /

cleaning, cleaning again. Satisfaction… /

Start essays, don’t start essays/ too much time, not enough time /

premature goodbyes, cheated time /

but as she said in September, time never belonged to us to begin with /

am I ready for goodbyes?

Poems & Creative Writing

Keflavik Airport

Carlee Wilson
MA Candidate in Conflict Transformation & Social Justice

Tables bare in convenience store

Cafeteria white cashiers

Speak in native tongue

Switch seamlessly into my language

Take all currency from traveled hands

I buy salt black as a volcano

The darkest thing in sight

Is the nothingness outside the windows

Reflections of ourselves staring back, waiting

Elevator music and quiet murmurs

Until we step into the cold

Wheels on pavement

Then takeoff