Saira Anwar is an educator, poet, author, content creator, and spoken word artist. She published her first poetry collection The Death of a Beautiful Dream in January 2014, which was featured on Amazon’s Top 20 Bestsellers list.

We were honoured to speak with Saira in anticipation of the launch of her second poetry collection, Rising From Despair: A Journey to Hope, the long-awaited sequel to her first collection and 10 years in the making.

Our writer Meg has penned a thoughtful, in-depth review of Talking at Night by Claire Daverley. She reflects on the raw depictions of grief, love and how the author creates authenticity in multi-layered, imperfect characters.

Willow Martin is a poet and author based in Cornwall, UK. Her work explores themes of emotional healing and personal growth, offering a reflective and nurturing perspective on the journey of transformation.

We were honoured to speak with Willow following the launch of her debut poetry collection, To Be Seen: The Bloom and the Roots, to discuss her journey as a writer, her process of emotional healing and self-discovery, and her advice for up-and-coming poets.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

I forget myself in the melancholy of times,

where the arrows are like scissors

Life is hard but so am I

I won’t give up, I will not die,

And even when my brain goes mad

I’ll carry on, I won’t be sad.

Darkness seems to follow me a lot… a shadow that’s present, even when the light shines through, it never seems to absorb it at all. Darkness is like daylight savings; it starts off and ends in darkness. That hour back barely makes any difference at all. I walk around with my eyes open, but I mind as well walk around with them closed; because at least I know the doors are shut and nobody can see into them.

Holidays, for me, consist of finding excuses.

An example of this is at a Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner, when I inevitably get restless from sitting at the table with my family, and start offering to take people’s dirty dishes to the kitchen for a reason to move around. This is met with a yes or a no and usually a genuine ‘thank you’, my real motive concealed under the guise of being considerate. A less polite excuse I utilize is going to the bathroom for ten minutes so I have a break from socializing and conversation. While it is tedious to be constantly looking for these ‘outs’, I find that they are the only way to preserve my sanity.

Holidays are, in short, a lot.

Sometimes I think of grief like an old woollen jumper. It’s the knitwear you fold at the bottom of your drawer, only getting it out on the coldest of days or in the very midst of winter.  

Sometimes you only wear it on Christmas day, or on a special date that no one else celebrates.

Once it’s enveloped you, you fold it away again, smoothing down the fabric with your fingers in a private ritual, like the most sacred of things. 

This Modern Struggle Magazine is honoured to share the beautiful words of Stephanie, a Glaswegian cinquain and soliloquy poet.

She aims to help people with her poetry, and her poem Love Yourself is an inspiring message about self-love that we all need to hear.

It was a crisp October day when the world ended, the kind where you can wear just a jumper, so I didn’t have a coat on when the sky shattered and fell down around me. 

Today, 29th October 2023, is 10 years since my university house doorway became the backdrop of my most tragic scene as I was delivered the cruellest news. ‘They didn’t want to tell you over the phone’, my aunt said, and with that sentence I knew immediately what she was going to say next. 

My dad had passed away.