Black Country

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Another agreed an said: "It wor arf a good tune what hey sung, but I cor remember the words, con you?" In Nova Scotia, Eliza discovers a place where ordinary things are transfigured into treasures - a red ribbon, the feel of a foal's mane, the sound of her name on someone's lips. With nothing to call her own, the wild beauty of Cape Breton is the only solace Eliza has - until another Home Child, a boy, comes to the farm and changes everything. I told my dad I was writing this and asked him (at the pub) what makes our sense of humour so distinctive. He thought for a minute, sipped his beer, and said: “Everyone round here thinks they’m a comedian.” Yo'm a silly lot," said the angel. "I shore urt yer. I got a message for yer. There's a baby bin born in Bethlehem. Is name is Jesus an ees God's son. Goo an ave a look at im. Ee's in a stable lyin in a manger." The shepherds cum donw the ill into Bethleheman they kep on about the angels. One said: "Fancy angels cummin to we. We ay nobody. It ay as if we'm important."

Mary looked at the presents an said: "Thank yo, they'm smashin, but Oi'll keep em till ee's bigger, if yo doh moind." The kings took off their crowns and bowed. They said "Righto," an off they went. When they'd gone, Erod said to isself: "Theer's ony room fer one king ere, an Oi'm it. When Oi know weer the new un is, Oi'll have im killed." Wot’s he gooin on abaat?!’ … A sunset seen from Bilston. Photograph: Michael Strachan/Getty Images/EyeEm

If you would like to comment on these poems, or if you would like to see one of your own here at Yampy The old words are the best – or, at least, they have an integrity, a patina, like a quirky handful of coins. They make some of the poems seem attractively dated. In Homing, Berry eloquently laments the tyranny of elocution lessons in what we assume to be her mother's – or grandmother's – life and explains: "Clearing your house, the only thing/ I wanted was that box, jemmied open/ to let years of lost words spill out –/ bibble, fettle, tay, wum,/vowels ferrous as nails…" Suddenly the sky lit up loike bonfire noight, an an angel cum. They day know owt about angels and they was that frittened they all fell on the ground. They went into the ouse an Elizabeth med a cup of tay. Er told Mary that er old man, Zacharias, day believe er when er told him about th3e babby, an ee were speechless. "Ee cor spake a werd now," er said. Mary smiled an said: "Oil spin sum wool an knit im a jumper, an is dad'll play the flute ter mek him sleep."

In Subsidence, Rob Francis has explored how the area’s past has shaped not only what we see today but also its working class communities. Is friend snapped at im: "Why doh yo shut yer moanin? Us two'll look this soide, an yo pair look the other." Another said: "It ay much use lookin in stables what'm shut. An if there's a new babby, they'll a the loight on." In this poem, Amina Jama explores the migrant experience in Britain, through the lens of a woman. The woman referred to in the poem, much like many immigrants in Britain, is othered. Her feelings are all deemed to be strange and unfamiliar. But as the poem unfolds, it becomes clear that many of the migrant woman’s experiences of loss, betrayal and poverty are human experiences. So they all come in, an Erod said ow noice to see em an wot cud ee do fer emn. they said they was looking fer a new king, and wondered if ee was theer.Although amusing, the poem does contain an important message regarding the integrity of our society. Towards the end of the poem, Zephaniah reminds the reader to ‘Give Justice and Equality to All’, no matter what.

As fellow poets will know, photos of oneself reading always seem to capture the least flattering facial expressions! This was my first time behind a mic. One thing to note is that, during this time, I was constantly switching between my birth name of Elinor and my preferred/pen name of Nellie. Especially with the poems and projects associated with university (where I was registered as Elinor), this can cause a bit of confusion! I now solely write, publish, and perform under the name Nellie. Favourite quote: ‘ My sort-of land? My passport part of this land, a so-called United Kingdom of lands and my land in this kingdom is England’. What a lovely supportive message! Liz will likely never know how much this meant to me at the time. Favourite quote: ‘ find a lamp and empty your paradise onto a desk: your white sands, green hills and fresh fish’.

Watch: My Deaf World

If a reputation can be earned through the writing of half a dozen poems of real worth then Liz Berry has probably already written them, earning her place in the landscape of early 21st century British poetry. Her debut collection (containing 14 poems from the earlier chapbook The Patron Saint of Schoolgirls (tall-lighthouse, 2010) has charm, accessibility and a humour that belies the serious ways in which she exerts pressure to counter the hegemonies of language, gender, locality, even of perception. Berry is a teacher by profession and will, no doubt, have equivocal feelings about her work appearing in classrooms – but it will rapidly and rightfully find a place there.