written by: Sally Armstrong
I tried to shape words to make them work
in a poem I pulled words out of hats,
dragged words across rivers I swam in
as a child. The right words were lost, hiding
under stones I searched for ideas.
From an old dictionary I made a list,
favourite words: almost, brave, craving.
I googled word of the day, made mood boards,
pondered fields of purple, gold and green.
My poems would not work, like an oily rainbow,
a seed without water. Me, a shouting bird.
Sally is based in Brighton UK where she is studying part time on a creative writing course. She is passionate about writing and is interested in exploring themes of belonging and identity in short fiction and poetry.
Latest posts by Sally Armstrong (see all)
- Lost - March 15, 2023
- When I First Met Him I Said ‘There’s No Way This Will Last’ - September 21, 2022