Imagining Myself to be a Poet




Imagining myself to be a poet


Baby cradled in one arm


I wait for a flash of inspiration



Words seem to peel off my other arm


In strips, skin curling upwards,


Turning into crisps



My toddler picks one up and


eats it – Mummy, I want some


more, more!



All hope of an idea vanishes.


Published by The Silly-Savvy Salopian

Freelance writer and descendant of the cave dweller and outlaw, Humphrey Kynaston. Banished from Shropshire for my eccentricity, I have made my home in Suffolk. I write poetry, short stories, travel journals, comedy gig reviews and non-fiction articles. My wish is to write my way back into the heart of my birth land. All writing commissions (and free holidays in Shropshire!) considered.

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