Step into York’s latest Pharmacy, and you find rows of pills in small bottles. But the medicine inside these vials is unusual. It’s not paracetamol or codeine, but poetry.

By Miles Salter

Photos by Stuart Duthie

The shop is the Poetry Pharmacy, a novelty hit. This week, the enterprise’s third shop opens on Coney Street in the heart of York’s commercial district. The business, led by poet and animateur Deb Alma, began as a one-woman band but now employs thirty people, including part-time staff.

When I talk to her, the shop floor looks ready. There are rows of poetry pills, with names like ‘Love,’ ‘Wild Remedy’ and ‘Inspiration.’ Discarded cardboard boxes point to the unpacking of books and other products.

Alma is on a mission to prove that poetry is relevant to people’s lives. As a writer and poet, she worked for several years with dementia patients. She discovered the power of words to influence wellbeing.

She looked for a mobile home online and found an ambulance was for sale on eBay, for £2,200. It was 2011, and it got her thinking. ‘It was one mad moment,’ says Deb. ‘I was daydreaming about buying a camper van. I thought I could be an emergency poet.’

Using her credit card, she snapped up the vehicle. It came from a decommissioned nuclear power station in Scotland and had hardly been used. It was in great condition, with just 6,000 miles on the clock. Her mates told her it was crackers, but Alma had a vision, and soon the vehicle was in her hands.

For years, she drove the ambulance to festivals, who paid for her presence. She chatted to punters, inviting them inside the ambulance for a consultation. To make the whole experience more comedic and accessible, she added a touch of theatre, dressing as a doctor. Reactions were strong and took Deb by surprise. ‘It’s magic,’ she says. ‘People loved it… they love to be asked to be taken to a place,’ she says.

When we talk, I mention Gillian Clarke’s moving poem ‘Miracle On St David’s Day,’ about working with a group of patients. A man who’d been mute for years suddenly found his voice. Clarke’s poem beautifully amplifies this, and Alma has had the same experience.

In the ambulance, people would open up, telling Deb about loved ones who were no longer around. There were frequent tears, people touched by the surprise and intimacy of the moment, and because Deb carefully listened to them. ‘They were touched, or moved,’ says Alma. ‘It was very carefully done.’

She wanted to avoid therapeutic-type situations, and had worked as a teaching assistant for years, and knew about safeguarding and boundaries. She was careful to be considerate to the people in her care, asking a few well-chosen questions, then offering a poem that they could take with them, perhaps reading a couple of lines. Punters didn’t have to pay. The ambulance was paid for by festival organisers, free at the point of need, like the NHS.

Deb found that people converted to poetry after their experience at the ambulance. She is evangelical about converting members of the public to the joys and delights of poetry. Most people, she notes, avoid poetry – even punters at Literature Festivals who read stacks of novels. She refers to offering a ‘gateway drug,’ so members of the public discover poetry is a lot better than they thought.

But she tailors her response. ‘I have lots of poems, depending on the situation.’ She likens it to fortune telling. When the ambulance became too tiring to drive (there was no power steering), she opened her first shop in Bishop’s Castle in Shropshire. Then the Oxford Street branch happened (part of the Lush store).

The York branch is the third shop. The business is a family affair. Deb’s husband, Jim Sheard (who has York connections and attended Bootham School) is heavily involved. Her son, Hayden Kitson, is head of production.

The poetry world is not, in Alma’s view, always good at looking outwards. ‘The world of poetry is really bad… it tends to not welcome people, bring them in,’ she says. ‘It has been comfortable at speaking to itself…’ This sounds like it could be applied to numerous British institutions (government, church, the police, etc).

Sometimes, Deb has got the feeling that the poetry community is not supportive of the way she is looking outwards, not inwards. ‘I want to be part of the poetry community, speaking to everybody else… people think we should stock every poetry publication, but poetry does not sell well.’

The shops stock greetings cards and other gifts to help with sales and income. ‘We have to tread a fine line,’ says Deb. ‘We have to pay the rent.’ The pharmacy stocks ‘poetry pills’ housed in small jars. These novelty items have found a large audience. ‘People loved it,’ says Deb. She didn’t expect the poetry pills to sell well, but they have taken off.

Alma is a likeable presence. Clearly an empath, she has gained a powerful intuition about the power of words and their impact on people’s lives. She chooses her words carefully but has a strong vision. She’s building something very impressive, and some of her team’s younger members are ambitious for more.

Alma reminds me of Anita Roddick, although when I ask if the Poetry Pharmacy is the ‘new Body Shop,’ she looks a little perturbed. She admits to a mixture of excitement and anxiety about the launch of the York branch. She’s enthusiastic for a Yorkshire presence, having always loved the Brontës.

I don’t think she needs to worry. Visitors to York love novelty shopping experiences like the Christmas market and the Shambles with its ceramic ghosts and Harry Potter references. Visitors will enjoy the playfulness at work in the Pharmacy, where they can purchase items from ‘The Poison Cabinet,’ described as ‘Very bitter pills – Guaranteed ad-verse reactions – Not to be Swallowed (except metaphorically).’

The Poetry Pharmacy is going to do well here, and Alma and her team deserve success. In a world that is governed by commerce, they’ve hit on something genuinely surprising, and with a heart for wellbeing and authenticity.

So, if you’re feeling blue, anxious, or a little overwhelmed by the world, head to the Poetry Pharmacy. They might be able to prescribe a few lines to cheer you up. It will also help York be a more culture-oriented place. Good luck, Deb and team.

The Poetry Pharmacy is located on Coney Street in York, opposite Waterstones. It opens on Friday 6 March 2026. Find out more at poetrypharmacy.co.uk.

Miles Salter is a writer and musician based in York. He fronts the band Miles and The Chain Gang and writes regularly for York Calling.