About Me

I'm a mother and Scottish poet who began writing poetry during the pandemic for the catharsis. I enjoy writing creatively as a hobby and love all things Greek and mythological. My other passion is teaching law and criminology and academic research. I'm particularly interested in women and children's experiences of the criminal justice system and penal reform.

 

Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?

Mary Oliver

Lisa M Armstrong.jpeg
 
Image by Denise Johnson

Don't shoot the messenger



                                                    The wind whistles      impatiently

as I quietly unfasten a memory (and then another) leaving them in

a heap in the middle of his bedroom floor //////  //////  // as if we never were

until I’m              standing in the room

naked                           shivering in the

small hours. I gather up my clothes like a

squirrel. Darting around in the dark for

my shoes, slipping out

with the first light

hoping he will

realise I was

already gone before

he pulled the trigger.   

 
Image by MaddiesCreation

The Garden Plot

In her mind she’d buried him alive

planting spring bulbs in a crop circle

around his body parts

[lovingly arranged of course]


The femme fatale trope

played out on a loop 

in a shocking

flash of red

lips glinting silver

in a deserted moonlit alleyway


The crushing realisation

that the bastard was still

very much alive, 

A splinter lodged in her chest

the burgundy red

sloshing around her insides

numbing the pain

 
Image by Dalton Smith

Monsters


Please close the door as you leave

I’ll wrestle these monsters


Like Gaia only I know how to tame them

Light a match and watch it burn brightly


Put them back in Pandoras jar of dreams

weeping doesn’t help but pulsatilla might


A chain of daisies whirrs around my

head like a dainty halo


I want to dance with my darkness tonight

Maybe I’ll try Ophelia’s haunting little number

 
Image by Ian Taylor

Ghost In My Womb

There’s a ghost in my womb

She hardly makes a sound

Like a tumble weed in the desert

A nomad drifting in a cloud

 

Like a gentle feather

A thistle among the heather

Whatever the weather

There’s a ghost in my womb

 

There’s a ghost in my womb

She never replies

Shoots stars into heaven

Paints sunsets across skies

 

Like an itch you can’t scratch

A daisy in winter bloom

She’s just out of reach

This ghost in my womb

 

Being Brave

I spill ink and blood

hit send with love

let it ruminate

I guess this is being brave

Image by Amer Aryaei
 
Image by Jingxi Lau

STONE HEART

The serpent recoils
Arranging her lithe form into
A treble clef
Quaking in her sheafed skin
She blows a silent O
Cupids bow at the ready
He knows where to aim his deadly arrow
She knows his fickle love won’t last   
And so, she turns him to stone
So that her heart keeps on beating
An eternal revolution

 
Anisha pic.jpeg

#PoetsinthePandemic

Check out this exciting blog series featuring poets from all over the world!

https://lisaarmstrong2179.wixsite.com/website/post/poets-in-the-pandemic-blog-series-1