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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