I must have had a wish to write.Because for many years ,I studied books on poetry and creative writing.I began to collect images and events which affected me in a notebook.Then one day I asked,When do I write?I had to start, unconfident as I was. Time was passing Here is the first poem I wrote.[January 2010]
Too old for cold,I stand, now ,against the hedge,
Watching the snowflakes in the glare of neon street lights.
Darkness has come early,and I think of country uplands and huddled sheep.
On Salisbury Plain,shepherds watched their flocks
Just as in Bethlehem two thousand years before,
And then ,exactly when?
“Between the wars”,it stopped. Now we know there is no “Between the wars”.
And who decided
To cull the sheep and shepherds and the space for kindness ?
Now that same Plain still exists,but banned
And closed to human-kind,
For bombs ,not wombs
Nor for birth of lamb ,nor gypsy child ,nor Saviour
Where would He go today?
From the first poem, I can see my mind was wondering if there is any space in the world now safe enough for a creative happening.After I wrote this,I was unsure if I’d get any more inspiration but I did
Here is a slightly later poem
Paints a shadow picture
On the white wall
Of Michaelmas daisies
A leaf caught in a cobweb sways
To and fro.