I am a poet.
I’m many things – mother, wife, colleague, friend… but I’ve never called myself a poet, at least not till now.
Yet I’ve written poems for as long as I can remember. Scribbling away half-written verses in notebooks left gathering dust. I’ve not shared them before, partly because I don’t know if they’re any good, but mainly because I felt they gave a skewed picture of who I am.
I am generally a pretty optimistic, cheery person. Yet my poems often come out wrought with raw emotions – rage, joy, fear. Perhaps I use poetry to express all the bits that don’t get said in normal life, the feelings I have that are uncomfortable or unpalatable.
Anyway I’ve decided it doesn’t matter. They are what they are so it’s time to let them out into the world.