My words were nonsense,
Incorrect and back to front.
They said “She’ll never be academic”
“She’ll never amount to much”
‘They’ said I only had an issue,
with my b’s and my ds.
So they brushed away the problem,
They didn’t want anyone to see.
Still words seemed to find me.
Release my tangled mind.
I started to write poetry,
Finding it cathartic at the time.
I written quite a lot,
Even getting published in a book.
Then I had a break from writing,
While parenthood overtook.
Now I’m back to my writing ways,
I find the words find me.
The words I write are desperate,
Echoing around my skull,
Crashing and colliding,
Until my mind is inspiration full.
A burning light of an idea,
Waking, shaking me from dreams.
Where anything is possible,
And nothing is as it seems.
I write at my regular writing groups,
To expand myself and my creative flow.
Hearing individual perspectives.
Prompts pushing me outside my comfort zone.
We give each other a boost of confidence,
While offering only constructive critique.
We perform our words side by side,
Knowing that all our styles are unique.
I write for me, myself and I,
To sooth a battered soul.
Demolishing my demons,
Even if temporary, is a goal.
I write to ease my aching joints.
To rid myself of constant pain.
In life I am a disabled woman.
I can chose not to be on the page.
I write to share my words,
So others don’t feel alone.
There’s someone just like them,
Relatability through poetry is shown.
I know there’s others in pain.
Others who are hurting deep inside.
If my words can connect to them,
I’ll feel a sense of pride.
I write to explore.
To see what lies beneath.
Its just the way I’m wired,
The words just come to me.
Who knows why the writer writes?
Why does inspiration show?
As long as I am able to write,
My words will always flow.
By Katie Haigh
©️KATIEHAIGH June 2018