| T h e Q u i l l I n F o c u s |
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Indigo Mornings
by Sarah Reilly
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Linguists claim
these words as perfection,
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Sarah Reilly
A word or an idea becomes a recurring theme in my head. I write them down, I try different moods, different approaches- whatever feels fitting- I score lines out, I re-work sections, I read and re-read..and then something solid is formed that I am comfortable to accept as an extension of 'me'. I was 7 when I wrote my first poem. At the time, it was just words from my limited vocabulary strung together to express things which were central to me through my little 7-year old eyes. I kept my poems in a box beside my bed and over the years the box became fuller and fuller, my writing became more imaginative, more obscure, more personal yet more refined. At 21, for me, there is nothing which doesn't stir up a description, swell emotion, the urge to be spoken for... Essentially, I write because the words are always in me, desperate to get out and be sorted rhythmically..But somehow, I feel a need to write. It's like what the Spanish poet, Pablo Neruda, said about speaking for people (or things) which don't have a voice. We can all be that person, through circumstances, personality, stereotypes, pressure to conform, etc. I wanted to find my voice and a way to be honest, yet be safe with my opinions. But poetry isn't safe. To read it demands a response- In a matter of words, you decide whether you like or dislike it, relate to it or feel far removed from it, accept or reject the ideas, etc. To write it is to allow others to scrutinise your thoughts, and perhaps the scariest part is to actually recognise and put your name to a set of thoughts or opinions. Poetry has allowed me to know myself thoroughly. ![]() Contact details:
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