The Poetry Kit MAGAZINE |
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Two Poems |
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By Denise Nardone aka Jazz
I came to love poetry when inspired, at primary school, by a
very animated teacher - Mrs Verity. She read A A Milne's 'The
King's Breakfast', with such colourful expressions and I was
hooked by the rhythms, the story telling and her wonderful
voice! I wrote poetry as a child, but began writing seriously
as an adult when my emotions were at extremes - but then I
settled down and wrote because I had become addicted to words
and rhythms - besides, what else are you supposed to do when
words present themselves in your thinking?
I remember coming across the PK List by accident not long after it
had started - although at the time I thought it had been around
forever. I also remember someone saying that it is as important to
read poetry as it is to write it. How invaluable that advice was!
And that is what I've always got from the list - I've learned so
much from reading other people's work and also from reading the
constructive criticism that is offered by members. I don't post
very often, and have perhaps become one of the lurkers. But
belonging to the list is like belonging to a family - I've made some
good and close friends here and have shared in the sadness of losing
friends too. The list has become part of life that I can never let
go of. What I love most about the PK List is that this is the place
where I discovered my poetic voice.
I'm sending you one of my very earliest poems which I'm sure
appeared on the list early on. This one was the first poem I
ever sent anywhere and it was published in an on-line magazine
called Tintern Abbey.
Confusion
one or two of your leaves
have turned their coats
a
sure sign that autumn
is just around the corner
sad brown autumn
wet like a salty cheek
windy like confusion
and one of my most recent poems
On
the Bus
standing room only
she shouted
as more thoughts
clambered on board
squashing in
cluttering
the stairwell
packing themselves in
filling the under-stairs
storage space
leaving her little room
to manoeuvre the gears
and cogs
that kept life
just and so
ticking over
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