Image © Frederique Bellec
Buttercup Pleats by Sarah Allen
The funny thing about writing poetry for me is that it only comes when it wants to. It hides in the back of my mind then suddenly shows it’s face out of the blue. Someone says to me – go on Sair, write me a poem. And I’m like, well ok then. What shall I write about? It may have got stuck in the cogs, it may be deep down in my being, it may be in an old pair of shoes I haven’t worn for a while. But I can leave it alone for years then inspiration pops up, like a new drama on itv, and says, go on then, I dare you. And just for the record, my feet have grown in recent years so there’s a lot of old stock that needs surfacing!
So, it’s been a while. But just a few weeks ago, a friend of mine said, do you fancy writing about this photo. Up for the challenge I said yes and ended up writing a poem. Any poem! But something at last. Something from nothing. She liked it and I felt good. So I looked at another photo and before I knew it, I was writing again. Got my mojo back. For now.
