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John T. Hope

John T. Hope, originally from Manchester, moved to London in 1999 to pursue a career as a self-employed carpenter. At 42 years old, John’s life underwent a transformative shift over the past fifteen years, beginning with his writing, a passion sparked by a mental episode following the 2008 economic crash.

He has been diagnosed as a philosopher living with bipolar and displays compulsive calligraphy.
In this journey, he has worked to re-educate himself, striving to overcome the limitations of his early education.
Writing has become a therapeutic outlet for him, serving as a powerful tool for rehabilitation that offers immense benefits to those grappling with mental health challenges.

Now, with a clearer understanding of his writing path, John has penned The Whistling Wind. His memoir explores the economic exploitation of ethnic minorities, alongside themes of love and relationships.

Through his storytelling, he hopes readers will gain insight and wisdom. In addition to his writing, John is a qualified counterbalance forklift driver. He also lends his expertise to the NHS Mental Health

Department, advising on ways to enhance their services. Currently, he is completing his fourth novel, The Chronicles Of The Fallen Heroes and part 2: Humane Rewards. watch this space for Truth Seekers: A Celestial Miracle – Mathematics, the Language of the Gods.

Poems

3.3/5

Test Excerpt

Sanju Khan
3.3/5

Don’t walk by my laundry stand, I’ve just hung a thread. Don’t send me a text – I’ll climb  between the lines to look for you. Don’t use that still eye on me, I’ll lose my rest, this incubation. Don’t make shadows play trickery in the space I’ve made

Guinevere Clark
3.3/5

Phenomentally Hollow By Faith.Marie 62 lines, I was born in 1962 after Maya Angelou’s Phenomenal Woman Pretty women wonder where my secret lies. I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size    But when I start to tell them, They think I’m telling lies. I say, It’s in the reach of my arms, The span of my hips,    The stride of my step,    The curl of my lips.    I’m a woman Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman,    That’s me.

Faith Marie RUIZ
3.3/5

Ein wehes Verlangen füllt mein Herz, nach irgendetwas, das mir sehr fehlt. Es ist ein milder, bittersüβer Schmerz, der seltsam wohltut und auch quält. Ich versuche, das Gefühl zu ertasten, um endlich wieder davon frei zu sein, Doch der Versuch, mich zu entlasten, taucht mich in eine tiefe Leere ein.

Helga Schierloh
3.3/5

Bäume und Äste verbeugen sich gebrochen und gebogen, in der Saison nach einem großen Winterfrost. Obwohl er von der Kälte und Taubheitsgefühl umgeben war, entstehend aus dem Grau der Schwarz-Weiß-Farbtöne auf enteisigten Stielen,

Crystal Barker
3.3/5

Bäume und Äste verbeugen sich gebrochen und gebogen, in der Saison nach einem großen Winterfrost. Obwohl er von der Kälte und Taubheitsgefühl umgeben war, entstehend aus dem Grau der Schwarz-Weiß-Farbtöne auf enteisigten Stielen, mehlduzende grüne Eichhörnchen-Ohrblätter zögerlich knospen zart und verletzlich.

Crystal Barker
3.3/5

gray sky cracks apart sun opens its golden eye sleepy dragon wakes

Angela Thomas

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