In my view, poetry – the rhyming kind – has a similar structure to and is a natural progression of nursery rhymes and this is the area I wandered into as an adolescent. By the early teens I stumbled upon free form poetry, with its hidden rhymes and rhythms, and word art and forms. To me, poetry appeared everywhere whether it is a to-and-fro dialogue between mother and child, a tennis ball bouncing over a net; crab nibbled skeletons at the bottom of an ocean. 

Poetry is movement, people, nature, it is the rise and fall of your breath, your child’s heartbeat, the ebb and flow of the waves. Oh stop me please; I feel a nursery rhyme coming on. 

Take a subject, hold it in your mind and apply all your senses to it. You can have a bit of fun with your reader - check out Wilfred Owens and his dedicated ode to his nose - and be obtuse about your subject, be as surreal as you want to be, make it cryptic, stir your reader’s creative juices and whirl them around, dance with their imagination, their emotions, their senses – poetry is life’s patterns.

Find a few of my poems in the drop down menu. 

‘Let me live, love and say it well in good sentences.’ - Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar