Neglect.

A word so cold,

that it pierces my soul,

 —and takes hold.

Tears bleed down my cheeks

    —Oh how I wish it were not so!

Ally Hensley, acclaimed writer, speaker, and global MRKH advocate, has announced the launch of her debut memoir, VAGINA UNCENSORED: A Memoir of Missing Parts.

Combining raw honesty and unflinching courage, the book sees Hensley delve into the depths of her personal experience with Mayer-Rokitansky-Küster-Hauser Syndrome (MRKH), a rare congenital condition that affects over 10,000 British women, interrupting the development of the female reproductive system, causing the vagina and uterus to be underdeveloped or absent.

We were honoured to interview Serena about her second poetry collection 'Tea for the Wicked’, discussing her writing process, her healing journey through poetry, the challenges she faced during the process and advice for new poets.

It had started as a sunny day but the further north we got it became mistier and greyer and I felt more at peace, though I had the kind of trepidation in my stomach when you know that you’re doing something monumental.

I glanced anxiously at my suitcase in the luggage rack, making sure it was still there. Making sure he was still there. We were finally taking dad back home.

Roses are red,

Violets are blue.  I have lived my life,

    And so have you.

But I need,

       Something more.  (I need)

Something to love

       —With all of my heart.

All these lines.

All these words.

All these thoughts, scribbled across paper for a girl I do not see.

(Not know.)

Scribbled in ink, staining the paper.

                                    Staining my soul.

                                    …But she is—

                                    …she is beautiful…

I stand before you now. . .

We are two poets. . .

Will you let me be?

Will you accept my world as it is?

I've only just wished for a second chance. . .

The word feels strange on my tongue. Like I might just taste it and spit it out because it tasted wrong.

I might as well bite my tongue and taste blood than say that word out loud, because the word girlfriend has never been reserved for someone like me.

mud & slush spill

into my lowas

rifle slung, on my back

I thought that if I were a better person, then maybe things would go better for me.

I thought that if I were a better person, then maybe I’d be happy.

I don’t know what I want anymore.

Katie Cecilia is a poet and mental health advocate with a strong passion for helping others. Through her authentic and heartfelt writing, she explores themes of healing, self-care, reflection, and self-discovery.

We were honoured to speak with Katie ahead of the launch of her book, ‘Growing’, to discuss her journey as a writer, her process of healing and self-discovery, and her advice for up-and-coming poets.

Leo & Tingley are a dynamic Pop-Folk duo comprised of Leo Tingley and Charlotte Tingley - formally known as Chasing Shadows. The acoustic duo cover a range of styles and genres, both covers and originals.

We spoke with the duo ahead of their new album launch to talk about the inspiration behind their music, how it united them, and what listeners can expect from them in the future.

Don´t you remember what you wrote in that message on that cold rainy morning in May?

Because I remember crying while I hid under the covers, thinking the world had surely ended.

mmm, her

nails digging

into my back

but no one’s

here

the sun

won’t peak

Once again Diderot's beautiful ruin stands

in the corner of my mind,

the great book-city he described in Les Bijoux Indiscrets.

That is the question you probably ask yourself every time I see those three dots disappear.

When did this become so fucking one-sided?

When will I stop making the effort?

When will I call the time of death?

I looked at myself 

up close and personal 

in a pink heart shaped mirror 

from Urban Outfitters. 

I had never done this before 

You turned 5, and I have still partially forgotten the moment you came into the world. 5 years too late to meet the precious woman you were named after. You see, you were given your time to greet the world on the same day that we lost her. Your great grandmother. I can only think she was watching over us that day.

we met late in july

by a break in the sky

now our love is penniless art

thunder, thunder

over and under

recite the tale of my heart

They said it would be easy,

a simple walk in the park.

But I knew better,

with each step came a pounding in my head,

a weight around my arms,

a vice around my throat.

"Hello best friend!"

Scribbled on the first line,

your name,

carried in my heart,

and written on every page.

I have gotten used to invisible hands.

They held my gaze, whispered to me.

Like a phantom lover, they mesmerized me.

It has only been a short time since they touched me,

And yet I am certain I can feel them now.

I do not want to—I do.

I hear the roaring laughter of the winds as it crawls into my

Veins of fear.

What could possibly be left of the lingering thoughts of going

Somewhere far away in the Pacific ocean

Where no human feet are traced

It often needs a trigger warning, yet it happens every day. Often in homes, behind closed doors, sibling to sibling is the most common method - as heart breaking as that is to hear, it’s completely true. I suffered more than once with being victimised. But not at home, at school. A close school friend of mine, let’s call her Lara - for data protection reasons, abused me.

Following the successful launch of her second published poetry book, Wings Unfurled, we were overjoyed to speak with poet and author Libby Jenner about her poetry inspiration, writing process, and how poetry has been a powerful tool to help her with mental health and to heal traumas.

Do you know what it was/is to be in love? It was that spot in the woods by the park that is always filled with sunlight. The spot with the fairy garden that I took them to before they asked me to date them, like really date them. It was warmth and soup broth, it was a bath in some ways but not others. It is straining my eyes because I’m trying to peer into a wolf’s den or peering out of a cave and not straining my eyes because it’s night already. It is feeling like I was slapped in the face, and then wishing I had actually been slapped in the face because physical wounds are tangible. It is sobbing so hard I shake in my parked car the day after, before work, alone.

I forget myself in the melancholy of times,

where the arrows are like scissors

When She looked at the dragon, it seemed to her like air dissolved in hopes, blue, blue, shimmering like a garland and this attracted, like a moth to the radiance…

This Modern Struggle Magazine had the honour of speaking with artist and writer Irina Tall and sharing her unique artwork.

She shares her artistic journey, her creative process, the powerful meanings behind her work and the way that art can inspire and influence.

Thank you so much to Irina for taking the time to share her creativity and insights with us.