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On the 28th October 2021 the world lost a true poet. This year (2024), on the 17th of January, GrIm would have turned 40 years old. GrIm was a strong support for the It's OKAY Project and submitted incredible poems which appeared in 2 of our zines.
"Thank you for selecting the piece for your zine!!! I'm absolutely buzzing!! Don't enter pieces for submission very often so it's epic to be selected!!" - GrIm
To celebrate his life, we got together with Sharne, GrIm's wife to post a special remembrance piece to commemorate such a wonderful person with a passion for writing and a kind heart, and to inspire others to consider poetry as a means of expression.
'Broken Glass' a poem by GrIm read by Mat Lloyd
We would like to share some words by Ushiku, which were read at GrIm's funeral and sums up their friendship brought together by the love of writing.
Words for GrIm, by Ushiku
You wrote for the page,
I write for the stage.
Now I write for you.
You'd write for the love,
I write for acclaim.
Now I write for you.
You'd write all the wrongs,
I make right through song...
And I'll write for you.
You'd write for emotion, the truth, and the feeling,
These days I barely write, and spend even less reading.
But I write for you.
We met both as writers and fans of Pip,
Now I write for the cheers when I fuckin' spit sick.
But fuck all that shit, now I write for you.
If I could pen a new ending
I would rip up the script.
Cos right now, just ain't right, and your writing is sick.
Poetry has always been a beautiful way to express thoughts and feelings and is often a useful tool when experiencing difficult emotions, grief being one of them. We would like to shine a spot light on Sharne, who has written a poem which reads as a way of processing a traumatic and life changing situation of loosing her wonderful husband, GrIm. Sharne has clearly taken inspiration from her husbands love of writing and we would like to thank Sharne for sharing this with us.
The End By Sharne Halsey
You dont feel well
That's ok
Im here, im always here.
You're on the floor, I'm calling your name.
Ambulance, and another, and another
They have to cut you to bring you back.
Lights. Speed.
Hospital.
I kiss your cold brow in the operating theatre.
Time. Fucking time.
Doctor says you wont be ok,
I don't hear it
I cant hear it.
8 hours by your side then;
"Please book your one hour appointment the day prior"
I want to talk normally to you but i don't know how.
I want to bring you back but i dont know how.
That tube breathing for you,
Pinching your lip so it's swollen and purple, turning blue.
I hate that fucking tube
Youre going to wake up and your lip is going to hurt so much
I cant bear the thought of you being in pain.
I make a playlist and talk to you about mundane shit
I put people on the phone so you hear more voices that love you.
I kiss you, wipe the sweat from your face.
I hope you can feel me holding your hand.
19 days.
19 days.
19 days
19 days.
19 days.
19 days.
It's over.
It's done.
That bed with that tube, that fucking tube turning your lip blue and purple, that wasnt a life.
I set you free.
Then people
So many fucking people with so much love for you,
So many stories and SO much love for you.
I wanted to be alone with MY love for you, my grief for you.
I was angry with the people and the stories,
They didn't lose you like i did.
Then time,
Counselling and grieving and time.
I dont get to gatekeep how other people lose him
I dont get to keep other's love from him because i feel mine is more important.
You brought so much to everyone, my love,
Im so full of love and gratitude for all of you.
We all are.
If love was enough you would still be here.
With your incessant football talk and terrible fucking puns.
I love you ♥️
We love you ♥️
You are so fucking loved.
Upon Sharne's request we have included links to UK charities that help with homelessness