Why do I write?
I sculpt words through my imagination.
I allow my words to dance on the paper.
I write to collect my thoughts, organise them on paper.
My words flow and take on a mind of themselves.
My muse is the world around me.
Nature offers clues, snippets to fuel my imagination.
I need to get the words out of my head that scream and scream.
I need to soothe the beast within.
I write to banish away the blues and get the negativity on paper, prison it on paper, to keep it out of harms way.
My poetry offers a safety net, a release, a type of therapy.
Writing is like a railway train, thoughts get on, thoughts get off.
The journey begins with the first draft, the raw material.
Along the way words get discarded, words get added until the train reaches it’s destination, the final piece.
I write to give my self a purpose, to prove I have a gift, a passionate, a natural talent in sculpting words on paper.