Black Country

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Favourite quote: ‘ find a lamp and empty your paradise onto a desk: your white sands, green hills and fresh fish’. As fellow poets will know, photos of oneself reading always seem to capture the least flattering facial expressions! This was my first time behind a mic. In Nova Scotia, Eliza discovers a place where ordinary things are transfigured into treasures - a red ribbon, the feel of a foal's mane, the sound of her name on someone's lips. With nothing to call her own, the wild beauty of Cape Breton is the only solace Eliza has - until another Home Child, a boy, comes to the farm and changes everything. So they all come in, an Erod said ow noice to see em an wot cud ee do fer emn. they said they was looking fer a new king, and wondered if ee was theer.

Wot’s he gooin on abaat?!’ … A sunset seen from Bilston. Photograph: Michael Strachan/Getty Images/EyeEm About the Author: Pete Bouncer, or "Bounce", says he is "just on the wrong side of fifty". A metal polisher by trade and born & bred in Walsall town centre, he started writing around 30 years ago for his own pleasure. "I never really thought anyone else would be interested" he tells us. He's dead wrong on that score! Favourite quote: ‘You call it unprofessional because of course professionalism is straight and white’. They said "Righto," an off they went. When they'd gone, Erod said to isself: "Theer's ony room fer one king ere, an Oi'm it. When Oi know weer the new un is, Oi'll have im killed." The old words are the best – or, at least, they have an integrity, a patina, like a quirky handful of coins. They make some of the poems seem attractively dated. In Homing, Berry eloquently laments the tyranny of elocution lessons in what we assume to be her mother's – or grandmother's – life and explains: "Clearing your house, the only thing/ I wanted was that box, jemmied open/ to let years of lost words spill out –/ bibble, fettle, tay, wum,/vowels ferrous as nails…"Whether it is a feeling of quiet confidence, a fond memory that provides you with comfort, or a belief that will get you through difficult times; It is important to have these ‘happy places’ and ‘safety nets’. The poem itself becomes what could be considered our own portable paradise, as we ourselves might recite our favourite lines that bring happiness. Yo'm a silly lot," said the angel. "I shore urt yer. I got a message for yer. There's a baby bin born in Bethlehem. Is name is Jesus an ees God's son. Goo an ave a look at im. Ee's in a stable lyin in a manger." The shepherds cum donw the ill into Bethleheman they kep on about the angels. One said: "Fancy angels cummin to we. We ay nobody. It ay as if we'm important."

What a lovely supportive message! Liz will likely never know how much this meant to me at the time. The King's name was Erod, an ee was in. "There's three kings to see yo," the soldier told im. "Oh ar?" said Erod. "Weer?" Ee ad a fit when the soldier told im "Outside." When eed gone, Mary sat fer a bit an thought about it, then er med up er mind to goo and see Elizabeth. So er ad a swill an went off ter Juda. In this poem, Bridget Minamore explores her complicated relationship with England. Minamore notices that there are things about the country that seem like home, whilst others only serve to alienate her. This ranges from exploitative consumerism to racist rhetoric that is sometimes disguised as patriotism. The poet does however have a love for her version of England; where she grew up and the people that surround her. At the end of the poem, Minamore realises that although she has a conflicting relationship with England, it is still her home. This is an all too common theme for many of us ethnically diverse Brits who struggle with our own sense of belonging. If a reputation can be earned through the writing of half a dozen poems of real worth then Liz Berry has probably already written them, earning her place in the landscape of early 21st century British poetry. Her debut collection (containing 14 poems from the earlier chapbook The Patron Saint of Schoolgirls (tall-lighthouse, 2010) has charm, accessibility and a humour that belies the serious ways in which she exerts pressure to counter the hegemonies of language, gender, locality, even of perception. Berry is a teacher by profession and will, no doubt, have equivocal feelings about her work appearing in classrooms – but it will rapidly and rightfully find a place there.In this poem, Amina Jama explores the migrant experience in Britain, through the lens of a woman. The woman referred to in the poem, much like many immigrants in Britain, is othered. Her feelings are all deemed to be strange and unfamiliar. But as the poem unfolds, it becomes clear that many of the migrant woman’s experiences of loss, betrayal and poverty are human experiences.

One thing to note is that, during this time, I was constantly switching between my birth name of Elinor and my preferred/pen name of Nellie. Especially with the poems and projects associated with university (where I was registered as Elinor), this can cause a bit of confusion! I now solely write, publish, and perform under the name Nellie. The star stopped over the ouse where Jesus was, an the kings day worry cos it wor a Palace. They went in an knelt down by Jesus an gid him their gold, frankincense and myrhh.Mary looked at the presents an said: "Thank yo, they'm smashin, but Oi'll keep em till ee's bigger, if yo doh moind." The kings took off their crowns and bowed. Is friend snapped at im: "Why doh yo shut yer moanin? Us two'll look this soide, an yo pair look the other." Another said: "It ay much use lookin in stables what'm shut. An if there's a new babby, they'll a the loight on." The next un was like it an all, but Joseph said to the chap: "Aint there anywhere we can goo? My missus is out theer on a donkey, an er's gooin ter av a babby soon." Rob, who is a lecturer in creative and professional writing at the University of Wolverhampton began penning the poems before the 2016 Brexit referendum.

Favourite quote: ‘ My sort-of land? My passport part of this land, a so-called United Kingdom of lands and my land in this kingdom is England’.

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If you would like to comment on these poems, or if you would like to see one of your own here at Yampy In Subsidence, Rob Francis has explored how the area’s past has shaped not only what we see today but also its working class communities. And this is the booty she has plundered. In Birmingham Roller, she describes a bird's flight with the help of some of these lost words. Mary smiled an said: "Oil spin sum wool an knit im a jumper, an is dad'll play the flute ter mek him sleep." Another agreed an said: "It wor arf a good tune what hey sung, but I cor remember the words, con you?"