I won a competition. Yes, I did. My fingers
drew a poetic Fall, all red and gold decay.
I know the debt I owe – Keats’ ode still lingers –
but my creation was, in its own way,
worth fifty quid.
Chaotic interlinkage. Velcro hooks of words,
confusing as a froth of wasps stuck in a honey pot.
Some end up barbed wire bundles, spikily absurd,
or limp on, split and wounded. I’d be the first to spot
my writing sucks.
Yet sometimes words escape, their goal the blooded page,
and go home, battle-weary, on figurative legs;
they mesh like lovers meeting, no griping war to wage,
and fit like Lego bricks or halves of Easter eggs,
a greater whole.
Yorkshirewoman Louise Wilford is an English teacher and examiner. She has had around 50 poems and short stories published in magazines including Popshot, Pushing Out The Boat and Agenda, and has won or been shortlisted for several competitions. She is currently writing a children’s fantasy novel.