Creative, Quirky, and Friendly.

What inspires you?

The world around me, my friends and family, speaking to other creatives and seeing their amazing
work and perspectives, music, and my younger self.

Tell us about your worst ever gig?

Honestly, I don’t think I’ve had one. I may get a little weak in the knees, and my hands may shake,
but nerves are normal and can be overcome with more practice!

What’s your number one poetry pet peeve?

I’ve been trying to think but I don’t think I have one… I feel like with poetry, it’s nice to just take in the words of others.

Whose words do you love at the moment?

I recently went to a show and I have to say Terrell The Artist, he was great. Not poetry related, but Matt Haig, I read one of his books and really connected with the words in the story. It actually inspired a piece I wrote not too long ago.

What piece of advice would you give to your younger self?

To keep going, keep believing in yourself and don’t let the world around you discourage you from
trying and showing up as YOU. Everything works itself out in the end! (Sometimes slowly but always surely) Also, to share your work, girl don’t be afraid (valid even now – but I’m self aware on that).

Which two companies would you like to be sponsored by and why?

Oooo, I would definitely have to say Intax. I’m an instant camera lover ( if you know me, you know!) I take that camera EVERYWHERE, it’s the photographer in me, so it would only be right to be
sponsored by them and to be able to share amazing memories and stories.

The other company I’d love to be sponsored by is Wingstop lool I’ve just always envisioned myself
hosting an event and Wingstop sponsoring it. It will happen all in good time! Plus their ranch j’adore <3

About Kai

Kai is a multidisciplinary artist working across photography, video, mixed media, digital art,
writing, and poetry. Through visual storytelling and direct, honest writing grounded in her
perspectives, she explores thought-provoking themes and lived experiences.

Alongside her creative practices, she produces and facilitates workshops and events that bring people and communities together.

Insta: @justkyleyy

I started Door-to-Door Poetry in 2015 in Newcastle upon Tyne. From 2019 to 2020, I secured Arts Council funding to take the concept to 12 places across England. In this time, I spoke to hundreds of people and wrote a total of 64 poems.

If this is the first time you’ve ever heard about this, I imagine you’ve probably got some questions. But I’m going to conveniently skirt around those for now, because I want to focus the subject of this blog post on the technical side of the process; on the way going door-to-door has affected my writing and the lessons it has taught me about making meaningful poetry.

Because there is an attitude, seldom uttered but ever-present, that writing poetry for other people is cheap- that it is more noble and righteous to only ever write poetry for yourself. Like many of us, I have been guilty of viewing commissions as the work that ‘needs’ to happen, so as to allow me the time and space to make my ‘real’ poetry at a later date.

But I have learned through being a Door-to-Door Poet that there are many benefits to embracing the process of writing for others, ones that go much further and deeper than the scope of this one project. I want to argue here that, through meeting strangers and writing for them, there are a lot of useful skills we can develop and a lot of valuable insights we can make, experiences which broaden our perspective and help us to become more fully-rounded writers.

The first and most obvious benefit of writing poems for other people is that you learn a lot. When you start knocking on strangers’ doors and asking what’s important to them, you very quickly become acquainted with the magnitude of your own ignorance. On my first few outings as a Door-to-Door Poet, I met a surfing enthusiast, a highly unconventional doctor, a bonsai tree expert and a judo champion. Whether it was a discipline, a skill, an emotion, or a life experience, everyone I spoke to had their own specialist subject. It was usually something I knew very little about.

I came to appreciate that this was a very spontaneous way of forcing myself to be more curious. One of the most rewarding examples of this was meeting a man called Sami in the west end of Newcastle. He asked for a poem about Islam. Not knowing very much about the subject, I decided to visit a mosque for the first time in my life. I had a fascinating conversation with the local Imam there, who spoke about the relationship between poetry and the Quran. I came to really enjoy the little rabbit holes this project could lead me down. It was a reminder that everything, if we view it properly, is an opportunity to learn and to grow.

But before we can really learn anything, we need to know where to find it. And the second insight I gained from writing for lots of other people is that it makes you a better listener. Assembling poems on my own, my default setting up till this point had often been to try to persuade the reader, to cajole them into seeing the world through my eyes.As the Door-to-Door Poetry project took shape, it became clear that this wasn’t about persuading anyone, or trying to demonstrate how clever I was. It was about listening and holding the space until I found an earnest moment of connection.

It’s amazing where this can take you. One woman in Bensham, near Gateshead, originally told me she had ‘nothing interesting to talk about’. She went on to detail the story of how she single-handedly rescued her entire family from a housefire, carrying both of her children, one on each shoulder, before running back in to drag her unconscious husband from the flames. Later, in Moss Side – Manchester, a man who asked to be referred to as The Specialist started off by talking about the architecture of council estates. He ended up comparing me to an 18^th century time traveller and asking for a poem about that. None of these conversations would have happened if I had entered the process with any objective. Whether we are writing for ourself or for others, we can always benefit from taking the time to listen more closely.

The third, and perhaps the most memorable, lesson I have gained from Door-to-Door Poetry is that every poem is a collaboration. As time went on, I came to see that the conversations I was having, and the resulting poems that came out of them, existed as part of a partnership. On the most basic level, these poems could not have been written without both me and the person on the doorstep. In every encounter, we were working together, brainstorming and sketching out ideas in a short but meaningful relationship.

But the more I experimented with this way of thinking, the more I came to see that this isn’t just about Door-to-Door Poetry. The fact of the matter is, whether we choose to accept it or not, every poem is a collaboration: Between your current self and your past self. Between you and the subject you are observing. Later, between you and an editor, or a proofreader, or a reader. At any given stage, if we look close enough, we can see that what we are making cannot happen without some degree of interdependence.

This might seem like a simple idea, but embracing it can have a profound effect on your approach. The spotlight is shifted from the ego. Writing is no longer about ‘my thoughts, my idea, my poem’. It is about us. Our shared experience. Our feelings. Our lives. It is, I believe, an example of what the Buddhist teacher Thich Nhat Hanh called the state of ‘interbeing’- the idea that none of us exist in isolation, that we are always in a relationship with everything around us. 

Writing for other people doesn’t have to happen on a doorstep. It can take place on a bus, in a café, in the workplace or at home. Wherever it is happening, it can pass on very valuable skills for us as writers. As we begin to listen more closely and to put the idea of collaboration into practice, we can move away from lecturing, or excessive erudition. We can move instead towards a desire to make a genuine connection in our work, to express ourselves in a way which is inclusive and engaging. The resulting poetry is, in my experience at least, all the better for it.

About Rowan McCabe

Rowan McCabe is a poet and performer who has written for Channel 4, BBC Radio 3’s ‘The Verb’ and the National Trust. His work has been featured in the Guardian and on BBC Breakfast. He has toured across the UK and has appeared at Glastonbury Festival and the Royal Albert Hall. Rowan’s first full-length book, The Door-to-Door Poet, was published by Eye Books in September 2025.

www.rowanthepoet.co.uk 

buy the book

Authentic
Bubbly
Positive

What inspires you?

Cool, creative people. I take inspiration from everything and everyone but I find myself being
more inspired by the cool creatives I know, see or come across.

Tell us about your worst ever gig?

Hosting a corporate event with a scarce audience. It’s always difficult when you are faced with hosting a space for people in a corporate setting with low numbers and things/agenda/schedules don’t go to plan. It’s a real test to pull off something amazing in the midst of chaos and make it work as best as you can.

What’s your number one poetry pet peeve?

Performers that completely disregard open mic slot timings (e.g. A 3 minute open mic slot
turns into a 10 minute performance) as a pet peeve of mine.

Whose words do you love at the moment?

Big Scoop
Rae Zoe

What piece of advice would you give to your younger self?

Everything will work itself out. Trust and have faith and KEEP AT IT!

If you could be fluent in a language you do not know, what would it be and why?

Spanish – I’ve always admired the language and can even speak very basic but I would love to
revisit it and learn a lot more!

about Ellis Witter

I’m an Actor, Writer, Producer, Model, Author, Poet, Presenter and overall creative who has
starred in projects like ‘Amani’ ‘Sick (Mental Health Short Film, Reggie Yates’s ‘Make Me
Famous’ as well as an NCS Advert entitled ‘No We Can!’. I am also an experienced presenter with experience hosting award shows, corporate events, master of ceremonies, podcasting, talk shows, live/street Interviews & various social media clips garnering millions of views. I am also co-publishing a book and co-directing a theatre play both called ‘Stories Boys Don’t Like To Tell’ which is a collective of deep insightful stories that positively address numerous traumatic events and how we have dealt with/overcome them, premiering a 15 minute show at Theatre Peckham on October 12th for their ‘Young, Black & Gifted’ Scratch Night Showcase. Lastly, I have self-published 2 poetry books, “Deeper Insights” – A collection of expressed feelings and nurtured articulations of a young male’s feelings & “Serenading Seasons” – Lover Boy’s Don’t Die, both available to purchase worldwide on Amazon

Insta: @kingellisw

I was looking forward to working with The Onoma Circle, a collective of poets and artists I’d set up during my first residency. I was looking forward to meeting Phil, a skilled bronze caster, whose family had served the kings of Benin for over 6 generations. I was looking forward to hosting two events I curate: Redacted (a black-out poetry event) and The R.A.P Party (a poetry and music event). I was looking forward to eating my weight in Nigerian food, and soaking my skin in Vitamin D. I was looking forward to to an extremely busy week discussing literary and visual arts, and above all, so seeing ‘Nigeria Imaginary: Homecoming’ – the Museum’s first exhibition.

In 1897, Britain invaded, destroyed most of Benin City and looted most of its stores and altars. Outside Nigeria, the city is synonymous with this tale of plunder and colonial violence. But for me, it city holds a simple filial softness. It is where my father grew up, where my people are from, one of few corners of the world I can partially call home. I was looking forward to playing in my father’s city, on my motherland.

From the tiny airport in Benin, I was planning to go directly to the Museum Of West African Art (MOWAA) when I received a text. From a friend at the museum, the text simply told me not to come. That it wasn’t safe. Roughly 40 protesters had stormed the museum chanting their allegiance to the traditional ruler of Edo State, the Oba of Benin. The protesters had robbed and beaten up merchandise sellers, thrown tables and chairs across the premises, insulted guests, donors, artists and ambassadors who had flown in from across the world. Standing at the airport, I felt a number of things: shock, surprise, horror and deep embarrassment. But in the weeks after, as the dust settled, I learnt that all this had been a long time coming. 

The tens of thousands of items looted from Benin in 1897 were scattered across numerous museums and private collections in Europe and the Americas. Some stayed stationary, behind closed doors, encased in glass. Some were installed proudly outside buildings as if talismans of British conquests. Some were shipped from exhibition to exhibition as colonial-era curiosities. Some were even shown in museums on African soil, but never in Nigeria, and never in Benin. Some exchanged hands for hefty sums at auctions, and all the while, the Oba and the people of Benin watched, insulted, as their cries for justice and restitution were ignored, and their treasures toured the world.

Eventually, the Republic of Nigeria threw its weight behind the Oba, and united, began calling for all that was stolen to be returned. As their voices grew louder and began to gain traction outside of the country, within the country, there were disputes over whom they should be returned to. The Nigerian government argued the items belonged to the republic, to the people of Nigeria as whole. But the Oba believed they belonged to his kingdom, his family, to him personally, and wanted the treasures placed within his palace grounds. This clash between modernity and tradition, between the republic and the kingdom, halted attempts at restitution, a stalemate that meant western institutions could keep the loot for longer. The dispute brewed and boiled for so long, that even after the Nigerian Government stepped back and announced the Oba as the true custodian of all that was stolen in 1897, the atmosphere remained charged, as if a storm cloud, dark and ever ready to burst.

And this is what I waded into, pen in hand, foot in mouth, asking questions that poked at the clouds, searching for answers to spark poetry as the protesters attacked and shut down the exhibition.

John Keats once descried poets as the ‘midwives of reality’, the suggesting being that we pull ideas from what MIGHT BE into what IS. So, perhaps on some subconscious clairvoyant level, I tapped into what would unfold weeks later, because during my first residency, I didn’t ask the poetry collective to write about MOWAA. Instead I asked them to write, imagining their OWN museums.. 

But what is a poem if not a glass case? Isn’t a collection a small museum? What is a memory if not a looted item? Aren’t many books in scattered collections? Many stationary, behind closed doors? Or showcased proudly, as if talismans of conquests? Aren’t rare editions exchanged for hefty sums at auctions? I asked the collective what they would preserve in their museum, who they would invite to their opening, to imagine a visitor and to ask them questions. Below are some lines taking from their poems:

Elvis Ehimen Izamase:
In this museum’s heart, do you find the key
To understanding the essence of a legacy?

Eghonghon Grace Imuetinyan:
Don’t you think stories
Are gateways to histories?

Tracy Ohovwore:
Aren’t you a pawn of the white man? 
Didn’t you trade the comfort of your tradition?

Benita Oseremi Obajuobalo:
Did you feel how culture sits on the tongue—
heavy, sweet, untranslatable?

Efetobore Michelle:
Did it sound melodious, or was it discordant?
Did it expose the conflict in my identity?

Joseph Omoh Ndukwu:
Do you then ask why I have built you this place
On the edge of a city that fell to foreign powers? 

As I write this, MOWAA is closed, and will remain so for an indefinite period. Despite all that happened, my relationship with The Onoma Circle is blossoming. I secured a huge commission for them from the Ethnographic Museum of Zurich, Switzerland. They have items from Benin they will repatriate this year. And my collective are  currently writing poems for each one. 

My next collection, titled ‘Of All The Boys’ will feature many poems about my trip to Benin, and many of them try to encase what haunts me still: the stuff of storm clouds – a shifting mist of questions.

Inua Ellams
FRSL, FRSA.

About Inua Ellams

Born in Nigeria, Inua Ellams is a poet, playwright & performer, graphic artist & designer and founder of: The Midnight Run (an arts-filled, night-time, urban walking experience.), The Rhythm and Poetry Party (The R.A.P Party) which celebrates live literature and music, and Poetry + Film / Hack (P+F/H) which celebrates poetry and film. Identity, Displacement & Destiny are reoccurring themes in his work, where he tries to mix the old with the new: traditional African oral storytelling with contemporary poetics, paint with pixel, texture with vector. His books are published by Flipped Eye, Akashic, Nine Arches, Penned In The Margins & Bloomsbury.

The LeftLion Literature Editor at the time, James Walker, handed me a commission to review a show by a spoken word collective called Mouthy Poets. I’d never heard of them, but I was hungry for anything and everything. Secretly, I’d already been scribbling away for years – poems on receipt paper during bar shifts, scraps of verse in staff rooms, email rap battles with telesales colleagues. I’d even dragged a mate to an open mic at Hotel Deux and nervously read out some lines of my own. So when this gig came up, I was intrigued.

That night, twenty-odd poets took turns stepping up to the mic, weaving in and out of each other’s work. Hip-hop beats stitched the evening together, with a flow of poetry that was equal parts raw, playful, and polished. The space buzzed. The words felt alive. At the end, a curly-haired woman in baggy jeans and trainers bounded onto the stage with a clipboard, inviting people to get involved with the collective. Her name was Debris Stevenson, the founder of Mouthy Poets and, though I didn’t know it yet, the person who would help to shape the next decade of my career.

Discovering the Collective

Friday evenings soon became sacred. I joined the collective, notebook in hand, free-writing in circles of poets who encouraged risk-taking and imperfection. We stood up, tried new voices, shared freshly written work on the spot. We mapped out showcases on giant sheets of paper, scrawling with Sharpies, testing out collaborations, making mistakes, laughing, and, without realising it, building friendships.

Mouthy didn’t just teach us to write; it taught us how to craft. We workshopped rigorously, giving and receiving feedback. We experimented with form and performance, exploring how movement, props, sound, and lighting could elevate a poem. We learned to think not only as writers, but as producers and educators.

And then came the visitors. Giants of the poetry world, Roger Robinson, Malika Booker, Hannah Silva, Dean Atta, Patricia Smith, Caroline Bird, who ran masterclasses, retreats, and workshops. We shared stages with them, exchanged ideas, and felt the impossible become possible.

One year, through a cultural exchange programme, we travelled to Karlsruhe, Germany, to collaborate with our sister collective, Löwenmaul (Lion Mouth). We wrote poems, took contemporary dance workshops, and swapped stories late into the night. Later, they came to Nottingham. It felt like poetry could take you anywhere.

From Mouthy to GOBS

As Mouthy alumni, many of us carried the torch. Some launched performance nights, others became Young Poet Laureates, festival organisers, or workshop leaders. I myself started being invited to perform and facilitate. For the first time, poetry wasn’t just a hobby, it was a vocation.

But collectives, like people, have lifespans. After a few luminous years, Mouthy disbanded. The scene, once electric, simmered down. By then I was Editor at LeftLion, my energy poured into producing a monthly magazine. Still, the seed had been planted. During an interview for a Writer-in-Residence role at Nottingham Trent University, I mentioned my dream of starting a new collective. Sandeep Mahal, then Director of Nottingham UNESCO City of Literature, lit up at the idea. To my amazement, I got the role. When the residency was over, NTU provided start-up funding for the beginnings of GOBS Collective.

Side-by-side with the brilliant Ioney Smallhorne, supported and mentored by John Berkavitch, I launched a five-week education programme: recruiting new members, learning together about poetry, creating an anthology, and building towards a performance showcase. We managed two in-person sessions before the world shifted into lockdown. Suddenly, we were running everything online: writing workshops, rehearsals, feedback sessions. Later, we ran a second online cohort and eventually produced our first live showcases: Full Moon and Earth.

We’ve been lucky to have regular support from Apples and Snakes, who haven’t only provided funding but also advice, encouragement, and moral support. Their belief in us has helped GOBS grow into a sustainable, long-term presence in the city’s cultural landscape.

Finding Sustainability

Over time, we learned the importance of building a ‘spine’ of activity: the minimum heartbeat of the collective that could continue even without funding. That spine became four seasonal events, ranging from cosy winter pub socials to outdoor summer workshops, anchoring us through the year and celebrating the cyclical changes in nature. Around them, we could build more ambitious projects if energy and funding allowed.

In creating sustainability, I’ve discovered the importance of considering how a collective can feed into individual creative practice. Ioney and I launched GOBS Poetry Book Club. It started as a way to finally tackle the unread stacks of poetry collections on our shelves, but quickly became a communal ritual. We met in venues like Mimm Studios, Broadway Cinema, and eventually found a home in Nottingham Central Library. We read aloud, discuss, debate, and write new work inspired by the month’s book.

Then grew another experiment: GOBS Sunrise Sessions. I’d always dreamed of being an early riser, catching the quiet magic of dawn, but never managed it alone. So I set up a regular Zoom space: I had to open the room, so I had to get up. Together, we breathe, stretch, free-write, and set intentions in rhythm with the moon cycle. It’s become not just a practice for me, but a shared ritual supported by GOBS member Sarah Wheatley, and an accountability anchor that links personal growth to communal creativity.

The rhythm of community

Running GOBS has taught me as much about sustainability as it has about poetry. Collectives thrive on energy, but energy alone isn’t enough, they need rhythm. A balance of push and pause. A structure that can withstand burnout and shifting circumstances.

For me, the rhythm of GOBS now echoes the rhythms of life and nature: seasonal events, lunar cycles, the daily rising of the sun. These rhythms don’t just sustain the collective; they sustain me. They remind me that poetry isn’t only about performance or output; it’s about presence, breath, and connection.

Because ultimately, GOBS isn’t just about poetry. It’s about creating a sustainable space where voices can emerge, collide, and resonate. A space that gives what Mouthy Poets once gave me: not just words, but the courage to use them.

Moving forwards after an incredible 2025

​​This past year – our fifth year – has felt like a gentle widening of the circle. We’ve taken GOBS into new spaces, running workshops with a youth centre, a school, and a local charity supporting people with brain injuries. We’ve worked closely with Shadow Poets in this, creating space for others to learn how to deliver work, to hold space, and to build confidence doing so. We’ve also spent time sharing skills within the collective, running masterclasses in workshop facilitation and event hosting, so that the skills, energy and responsibility don’t sit with one person alone.

One of the real highlights was spending time together at Arvon: sixteen of us eating, walking, writing, dancing, and learning in the countryside alongside Anthony Anaxagorou and Vanessa Kisuule. Following that, publishing masterclasses with Bad Betty Press. All of which fed directly into Constellation, a performance showcase where sixteen individual poetry pamphlets were launched at Waterstones Nottingham. None of this would have happened without the care and encouragement of Apples and Snakes.

As we look ahead, we’re trying to loosen our grip a little by reshuffling our organisational structure. We want to let the Collective lead itself more fully, to share power, trust the group, and allow things to grow in unexpected directions. We want to tend to the partnerships we already have, and slowly reach outwards too, perhaps towards other collectives across the UK, and maybe beyond, learning from each other, swapping stories, seeing what might be possible together.

In January 2026, GOBS will come together to reflect on the year that’s just passed and to imagine what comes next: we’ve been gathering and holding onto the ideas we’ve heard from our members, and are ready to play. We’re stepping into the next year with curiosity, compassion, and a shared intention to keep wellbeing at the heart of everything we do. It’s a tricky thing to build sustainability in the current climate, but we’ve now created a community that I’m sure will grow into pathways we can’t even imagine yet.

Follow: gobscollective.org

About Bridie

Bridie Squires is a writer, performance artist and producer from Nottingham. Founder and Director of GOBS Collective, her work spans across poetry, playwriting and journalism, and has been featured by BBC Radio 4, BBC Sounds and LeftLion Magazine. She has performed alongside Holly McNish, Lemn Sissay and Linton Kwesi Johnson, and has appeared at We Out Here festival. Her debut collection Duck on Bike was self-published in 2023 and her one-woman shows Casino Zero and Chaos Casino premiered at Nottingham Playhouse in 2023 and 2025 respectively.

Follow: bridiesquires.com | @brizzaling

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It’s that time of year when we do a ‘quick’ round-up of all things Apples!! 

Big news for 2025 saw us going back to our roots and reclaiming the idea of performance poetry being what we are all about. Exciting times ahead!

As ever, we delivered loads of amazing work with a brilliant range of partner organisations and fabulous poets, with work happening everywhere from Bristol to Birmingham to Bradford. We worked in schools, libraries, at festivals, venues big and small, online and from a converted horsebox (Ivy).

Supporting and developing performance poets across the country is at the heart of what we do. For example, this year Associate Artistic Director Ty’rone worked with Coventry based poets and Belgrade Theatre on Playing Poetry.

“Playing Poetry is a talent development project all about exploration and play in performance poetry; how to make poetry pop and come alive on stage. This year saw ​​four emerging performance poets from Coventry work with four nationally established performance poets over the course of four weekends. The focus was on performance techniques, stage craft, movement, voice work, embodiment of the work etc. The poets worked with Miss Yankey, Jasmine Gardosi, Bradley Taylor and John Bernard. Resulting in a showcase to a sold out audience at Coventry Belgrade Theatre’s ‘See It First Festival’”

In 2025 we also delivered:

• Words A Stage 2.0 for early career poets, a series of online workshops and a week-long residential at Arvon
• Artists’ Retreats, bringing poets together to recharge, build connections and develop skills
• Scratch Lab with early-career poets in South London experimenting with group performances
• Online workshops to push craft and build community
• Enfield Young Producers – a Poet in The City programme upskilling the next generation of producers

…and supported UniSlam and Gobs Collective in Nottingham with their artist development programmes.

We launched ON:LINE our new winter masterclass series which runs until Feb 2026, still time to join: Book here!

Our podcast went visual! You can watch it here via our Youtube channel and we continued our partnership with the students at Elstree Screen Arts with more Blackbox.

We were delighted to be a partner with the Wandsworth, London Borough of Culture programme delivering a project in 10 primary schools to 300 Year 5 children as well as another 1200 children and teachers who attended. Our live SPIN performances were also part of the Schools Poetry Festival.

WORDCRAFT, our poet-in-residence programme in Ealing, came to a close – with teachers, children and poets all saying what a great project it had been.

“It was kind of magical, that memory is going to last my whole lifetime” – Year 6 Participant, Dairy Meadow Primary School, Southall

Libraries continued to be one of our favourite places to hang out. Our Saturday morning programme Telling Tales taking place as part of our Libraries Out Loud programme supported by John Lyons Charity.  In August, our Library Takeover project saw young people devise and produce an event with Brent Library Services.

We said a fond farewell to PLOT17, our hip-hop eco-show for children, which came to an end in 2025. For over 4 years it was on the road, delivering 77 shows in 12 locations, reaching over 7000 children and families. Ivy, our converted horsebox van is now off to new adventures!

And finally, keep a lookout for our announcement about our legendary night Jawdance, which, after 15 years at Rich Mix, is heading to a new home in Spring 2026!!  

I’ll end with a heartfelt thanks to all our funders and partner organisations:

ACE, John Lyons Charity, The Fenton Arts Trust, London Borough Of Wandsworth, London Boroughs of Wandsworth, Camden, Ealing, Brent, Hammersmith & Fulham, Kensington and Chelsea, Westminster & Harrow, Arvon, Rich Mix,  Belgrade Theatre, Mason & Fifth, Lyra Festival, Gobs Collective, Unislam, Young Identity, Birmingham City University, Ealing Learning Partnership, Lewisham Looked After Children Services, Stanley Arts, The Albany, Elstree Screen Arts, Fire and Dust and the BBC Contains Strong Language Festival.

And extra thanks and love to:

• All the amazing poets that we have the privilege to work with 
• Our fabulous trustees who give up their time and expertise to support the organisation so brilliantly
• Binita, Annie & Secoura @ The Space inBetween 
• Ahmed & Anthony @ D237 
• The Apples and Snakes team: Ben, Daniela, Iman, Janet, Marcelle, Mark, Natalie, Rob, Robert, Russell, Sarah, Ty’rone & Yelena for being awesome 

With love,

Lisa 

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