#friendblogfriday - Katie Nicholas


Today, #FriendBlogFriday welcomes local singer and songwriting extraordinaire, Katie Nicholas, whom I have had the pleasure to know for many years, following her career through the ages, marvelling at her artistry and ability to put her hand to anything including art, poetry, and video editing. She’s got a face like an angel too, it’s not fair. Is there nothing this girl can’t do?

We hear from Katie about her inspirations for writing, and the solace found in poetry, along with some beautiful examples of her work.

Enjoy xx



The quieter and more competitive musings of Liverpool based songwriter Katie Nicholas.


Poetry has become a daily practice for me, an introspective therapy to decode my most subconscious feelings and my perception of life. I often feel I struggle articulate or display every facet of myself in the public arena as a performer, so I depend on poetry to ground me, explore the light and shade of my nature and to stay honest and unafraid.

I started writing in 2016 during a long phase of depression and stagnation in my life. I felt like a square peg in a round hole working in London at a job I didn’t love, and where I didn’t fit in. I hadn’t played music due to crippling doubts and anxieties, so I moved from writing lyrics to pouring out my emotions on the daily commute to work. It became such a relief - a safe space only for me. 

I enjoy the quiet of a poem - it’s like the night. Where during the day, the sun spotlights a jovial performer, laughing and entertaining… while in contrast, there’s a girl alone with her thoughts, reflecting with the moon. As a whole, I feel more balanced in who I am because of poetry.




OSCILLATION 

(Life as vibration - each a song of infinite expressions)

Life, most Obviously a Waveform. each, a small sonder of music. where left to right moving a timeline along, bound by beginning to end. but all the while, Up and down ~ There’s depth and harmonic discourse. Poly-layers of life, the rit. and rall. fff Crashing cymbals of force! > if time is the container, { then a heart’s song is only content. } the story that floats on fortissimo tides, swims in woe for only so Long...


BE IN MY BONNET

(The sensation of joy)

My chest swarmed Like fluffy hysteric bees - Bouncing giddy from high octane fumes; Their sharp little tails Piercing the cocoon of my lungs, Like two rose raw balloons.

Swelling up, stretching round, Over my heart - I pressed my glove; Aghast! I could taste the fizzy nectar Of what I could only define, as love.



More from Katie…

‘I always have a conversation with my partner who’s a writer (John Witherspoon) who swears by routine, to set out with the intention to write… but for me it’s the opposite. I feel it’s more of an instinctive and fleeting thing. Usually I just wait for the “feeling”. I could be anywhere in the world, at any time of day, and something small sparks an idea. 

Usually it’s either myself or the world under a magnifying glass, with the urge to break it all down and put it back together again. I love to create poems that pull on other senses through sounds and create colour with imagery. I always seem to indulge in heightened emotions, embellish and exaggerate every thought, and over time I have become comfortable with more cynical perspectives.

I can go through phases of writing most days for a month to radio silence. Sometimes many poems in one day (if I’m in that headspace) but it can be mentally exhausting and leads to insomnia. Usually I feel when I go quiet, it’s because my focus is elsewhere or I’m not feeling in touch with myself! I believe there is always something to write about if you tap back in, so I don’t fret too much when the canvas is blank.’

QUANTUM SHIFT (This was a stream of unedited one insomniac morning!)

it was Love

that transcended me

to an incomprehensible platform;

catapulting me up from the mundane frivolity

of my subtle nonchalant existence.

Persistent, and enduring,

was a stream of energetic synergy -

met between the connecting

of two waves they call ‘we’.

Beyond the bleeding parallel lines,

we ricochetted in altruistic motions;

all the hunches of a non-linear life

rattled with its retching convulsions.

Along with the restrictions, conflictions,

and distorted points of view...

the meeting of another soul for me

was a pivotal others could misconstrue.

But that same binding energy -

(the underpinning of all we perceive) -

was quickly downgraded,

the moment the mind struggled to leave.

My take on existence now altered,

and unfathomable to many;

my outlook on time and structure

has now become a steady

Breakage - of the imaginable

ineligible, scrawled out-dated scripts;

that we still scramble to siphon

while the human perception shifts.

As it lifts and transports us

to higher conscious levels...

where the mind first constricts

before it breaks free and bevels.

WE are on the cusp of a new Golden Age.

And I know my chromatic musings

won’t make much sense at this stage.

But the symphony of the Universe

trebles, quakes - trembles and wavers.

While we skip past green spaces,

weaving syncopated quavers.

Recklessly waltzing out of time

On our darling dying Earth,

Our morality endangered;

Our priorities - impaired.

Our escapism of destruction

depends upon an alternate dimension...

Surely I’ve lost you now -

with zero gravitas to my perception...

But give it time; and you will soon be

the tingling within the vibrations

of everything we see.

There’ll be more ripples to my reflections,

as we dive deeper to the well of collective tissue.

It’s a connective conspiracy, which I boldly will issue!

But I won’t preach on the street corner,

While the realist looks on and laughs.

Handing flyers by the garbage

Stood upon the same dystopian path.



NO SUSHI, MASTER

(A poem about overthinking, burn out, self-analysis, in need of balance. Themes based on astrology - my star sign Pisces (the two fish).



My cranium 

Is a tin can 

Jaws, < open wide;

32° degree

Steamed sardines