Archive for May, 2017

The Night the Concert Ended

Posted: May 24, 2017 in poetry

The Night the Concert Ended

Yesterday I woke to news

Morning t.v and social media

Was flooded with shock,

Dissolution and terror

As the story unfolds

My heart feels heavy

I am overwhelmed by emotions

Sadness, fear, shock

These things had happened before

And I had felt those emotions then too

But this time

It was more personal

So close to home

A place many I know have been

Where I myself have been

And being the mother of teens

A fear that they could’ve been there

It so easily could’ve been them

But then comes the missing

The lost, the wounded

Where are they?

Learning of the death toll

Shook us

It was a concert

That appealed to young people

Some teens had gone alone with friends

Their first concert without mum and dad

It shouldn’t have ended this way

Now we wait for news

News of who we’ve lost

News of whose survived

And our hearts ache for those families

In mourning, in terror, in loss

But with this news

Comes the heroes

The kind hearts, the community

Pulling together

Rebuilding faith in humanity

The effects of this will stay with us

We will always remember

The night the concert ended

By Katie Haigh

copyright@K.Haigh 24/05/17


Innocence on the Surface

Posted: May 19, 2017 in Uncategorized

Written at Rosie Garlands fantastic workshop yesterday with my group Langley writers

Innocence on the Surface

A picture of innocence

She is a vision of youth

We gaze upon this beautiful child

Yet unfolding from her back

Appears blackened leather like wings

In a flash she flies

Into the dark and terrifying woods

We wait

Fear flooding our veins

Expectation making our hearts race

She reappears

Leaning on the deteriorated

Wooden fence

Her gaze is chilling

As her dark eyes

Stare into the distance

Her mouth is stained

With the blood of a fresh kill

It seeps down her chin

Staining her pretty dress

We stand frozen, afraid, shocked

Will she come for us?

Holding breaths in

Scared that she will notice us

Watching her, waiting for action

Finally her wings open widely once more

And off she flies

Into the night

A mysterious creature

Gone but never forgotten

By Katie Haigh

copyright@K.Haigh 18/05/17

Photos by Colin Batty

Magazine Perfection

Posted: May 16, 2017 in Uncategorized

Magazine Perfection



The girl looks in the mirror.

Her reflection stares back.

Her magazine is reflected too,

Lay open on her bed.

The girl in the magazine,

Catches her eye.

She is what you’d call,

‘Magazine Perfection’

In comparison,

The girl is imperfect.

She has some extra fat,

Hanging around her waist,

And arms.

Her breasts aren’t as perky,

As hers,

Or quite as big.

The girl in the magazine,

Has smooth clear unblemished skin.

Not one mark caresses her body.

The girl touches her face,

A few spots are scattered,

Across her cheeks,

She has a scar next to her eye,

From a childhood fall,

On the playground.

The girl in the magazine,

Is effortlessly sexy.

She is sex appeal,

Without the slut factor.

Other girls try and fail,

To carry this look off.

Instead of subtle sexuality,

They get words like,

Whore thrown around.

The girl analyses her body,

Her bum is too flat,

She’s defiantly no,

Kim Kardashian.

Her hips are much wider,

Than the magazine girl.

Her lips are pale,

Lacking lustre.

Her eyes are a dull grey,

Not sparkling greens or blues,

Like the magazine girls.

Her skin is very pale,

She is naturally pale skinned.

The magazine girl has a,

golden bronze tan,

Her skin seems to skimmer,

Seductively so.

The girl in the magazine,

Looks happy,

Like she’s achieved,

All of her desires.

Like she has a deeply,

Fulfilling life .

The girl looks at her arms,

Angry red scars,

Mark them.

Scars of frustration,

Sadness, imperfection.

Trying to fit in,

In a world,

Where she just doesn’t fit.

And what enables,

These feelings of despair,

Low self esteem,

and lack of confidence.

Well part of it,

Is caused by,

The girl in the magazine.

By Katie Haigh

copyright@K.Haigh 14/05/17
Photo by Ashleigh Haigh



Posted: May 8, 2017 in Uncategorized

An old poem of mine



On the 163

Going to Manny

Seems to last

For an endless hour

Travelling through Langley

Past plagiarised houses

Tip tapping my mobile

To help the time fly

Silently shuffling in my seat

Lost in tunes from my mp3

My mind wanders

To poems unwritten

People get on in sequenced step

Stealing seats left warm

By passengers before

Teenagers accumulate in dark corners

Launching spit balls from straws

For respect from peers

Little old ladies

Stumble on unsteady feet

Fearing the press of a bell

Will not cement

Their departure at the correct stop

A tattoo parlour

With large red letters

Signals it’s soon

Time to get off

Arriving means it’s time to shop

But spending means many bags

Resulting in a compact journey home

With squashed knees and hands held tight

Stuck with concrete view

Overheard conversations

From those loudly indiscreet

Spouting petty personal gossip

While girls giggle

With blushed cheeks

Mums wielding prams battle for space

While a drunken man snores

Muttering under a stale beer breath

Finally seeing the church

Signals salvation

Home is near

Sighs of satisfaction

On departure

Saying the words

Never again

Yet I know the 163 will travel through my future

The journey from hell

Will always remain

By Katie Haigh


Stalker in Mind

Posted: May 4, 2017 in Uncategorized

Stalker in Mind

My nerves have been cut,

Their shredded and frayed.

I feel on edge,

I’ve been jittery for days.

My chest is so tight,

Twisted and wound.

I feel like I can’t breath,

But I don’t make a sound.

My skin is all tingly,

My heads cotton wool.

I wish I could break free,

But it’s powerful.

It’s like carrying a black cloud,

Over my head.

I feel like giving up,

Just going back to bed.

So I hang on tight,

Try to ride it through.

It’s my stalker.

What else can I do?

By Katie Haigh

copyright@K.Haigh 04/05/17

Photo by Katie Haigh