Poem

It’s showtime

News

I’m out and about reading poems at various literary festivals this week, starting with Leek on Wednesday, then Chester on Thursday. They’re both sold out but there are still tickets available for my show at the Nottingham Poetry Festival on Saturday should that be of interest to you. Tickets for that are on sale here: https://www.gigantic.com/nottingham-poetry-festival-tickets/nottingham-metronome-nottingham/2026-06-06-19-00

I’ll be at the Edinburgh Fringe for the last week of August, the Morecambe Poetry Festival in early September – and then have a 45-date tour in the autumn with my new book ‘How to Lay an Egg with a Horse Inside’. Both Oxford shows, one of the Bellaghy shows, Corsham and Loughborough have now sold out. There are a handful of tickets left for Pocklington, Helmsley, Deal and Colchester, while London, Leeds, Manchester, Bristol, Exeter and Liverpool are all selling quickly.

Finally, I’ve got a couple of poetry + music gigs with the brilliant Catenary Wires over the summer. We’re in London on 9th July and then in Cambridge on 25th July alongside Dr John Cooper Clarke and a raft of other brilliant poets.

A list of all my events, plus links to tickets can be found here: https://brianbilston.com/events/

A poem for World Bee Day

Selected poems

The Last Bee 

After the last  ee 
had  uzzed its last  uzz, 
the  irds and the  utterflies 
did what they could. 

 ut soon the fields lay  are, 
few flowers were left, 
nature was  roken, 
and the planet  ereft. 

A poem which isn’t the one I had hoped to write

Selected poems

This is Not the Poem I Had Hoped to Write

This is not the poem I had hoped to write
when I sat at my desk and the page was white.
You see, there were other words I’d had in mind,
yet this is what I leave behind.

I thought it was a poem to eradicate war;
one of such power, it would heal all the sores
of a world torn apart by conflict and schism.
But it isn’t.

Lovers, I’d imagined, would quote from it daily,
Mothers would sing it to soothe crying babies.
And whole generations would be given new hope.
Nope.

I had grand aspirations. Believe me, I tried.
Humanity examined with lessons applied.
But the right words escaped me; so often they do.
Have these in lieu.

A poem for David Attenborough’s 100th birthday

Selected poems

Life of a Naturalist

it’s his birthday
and the sloths are up early for once
the flamingos line up in pink, long-legged salute
the birds of paradise parade in their finest
the elephants blow their trumpets
the blue whales gush with joy
the gorillas act out stories of his visits
the lions lay off the wildebeest for one day
and stand together on the Serengeti plain
the lyre birds sing his voice in tribute
the seals cannot stop clapping
and the ostriches urge us
to listen to him
and not bury our heads in the sand

2026 shows – low ticket alert

News

Much to my surprise, some of my shows this year are on the verge of selling out. You may need to get your rollerblades on if you plan to come to any of the following, which have fewer than 50 tickets remaining:

9May: FILEY Literature Festival
3 June: LEEK Arts Festival
4 June: CHESTER Literature Festival
8 Oct: DEAL Astor Theatre
10 Oct: COLCHESTER Arts Centre
14 Oct: LOUGHBOROUGH, MMC
7 Nov: BELLAGHY, Seamus Heaney HomePlace
13 Nov : HELMSLEY Arts Centre
14 Nov: POCKLINGTON Arts Centre

Shows in Bristol, Bury St Edmunds, Exeter, Leeds, London, Norwich and Stirling are also selling quickly.

For a full list of events, plus links to tickets, go here: https://brianbilston.com/events

*End of low ticket alert*

A poem about forgetting an anniversary

Selected poems

  

Anniversary

I forgot, I said,
but since when was our love built
on anything so ordinary
as a date?   

Let other couples mark time.
I am too caught up
with the here and the now of you
to waste these hours
in commemoration of the past.  

Because our love is vast,
like an ocean,
with depths far beyond
others’ comprehension.  

Why spend our lives swimming circles
in the muddy puddle
of convention?  

Flowers fade.
Chocolates get eaten.
By such ephemera,
we should judge our love not.  

And you said,
what do you mean,
you forgot?  

A poem about a wannabe Bond villain

Selected poems

Billionaire in a Midlife Crisis

He’s swapped designer jeans and flashy cars
For designer spacesuits and trips to Mars
Where he watches Earth turn on its axis
With its stupid people paying taxes
He’s indulging all his whims and vices
He’s a billionaire in a midlife crisis

He’s got plans to end world poverty
Once his new hair’s lost its novelty
He’s dropping rap tracks and dissing pronouns
His kids have names they cannot pronounce
He’s choosing who his next young wife is
He’s a billionaire in a midlife crisis

He’s an outspoken champion of free speech
With a mute button in easy reach
He’s building an army of online abusers
More spambots equals more X-users
Cause he’s been left too long to his own devices
If truth be told, he’s not the nicest 
I hope he comes down with gastroenteritis 
He’s a billionaire in a midlife crisis

A poem about collective nouns

Selected poems

An Invention of Collective Nouns

A reckoning of spreadsheets.
A distraction of smartphones.
A prattle of podcasts.
A mispronunciation of scones.

A clique of photographers.
A heard of precedents.
An enjambment of
poets. A grope of presidents.

A pile of haemorrhoids.
A bunion of personal trainers.
A bout of estimations.
A condescension of mansplainers.

A stroke of geniuses.
A spot of adolescents.
An embarrassment of Richards.
A collection correction of pedants.