Thursday, 10 June 2010


I always meant to tell you
what I’d seen
where I’d been
what I’d done
how I’d become
who I am

I wanted to be heard
but I could never find the words

As I denied my words
and then they dried
and then they died

And each dead word piled up
inside, as dust
‘til finally words

Exploded out of me
like blizzards of confetti
words whirled through all my senses
confusing all my old defences
sometimes humming sometimes rhyming
words followed me
in perfect timing with my footsteps
walking in the park
lying in the dark in my bed
words danced in my head
sang to me
read poetry
spelled themselves out
in my spaghetti
whispered fantasies in dreams
leapt on me from books and magazines

I switched the tv on to drown them out
only the words got louder
they began to shout at me
from right there on the screen
Eat this pizza! Buy this washing machine!

seeking some respite I turned them down
I sat in silence,
then began to write
the stories my words told
about my life
and as I wrote them I let go
of all those things
I meant to tell you
years ago


Anonymous said...

every writer is renowned for using another person's words, take in slumbering on!

Follower said...

Dear Anonymous
What do you mean by 'take in slumbering on'?
I don't understand you.