Hopefully, whatever your motivations, my poetry meets simply with your acceptance.
Frequently I don’t so much write poetry as allow it to come to me. That sounds so ‘artsy’, but I rarely attempt to write. However, sometimes I am incapable of finding peace without penning my thoughts – and the result is often my poetry. Although my own academic qualifications in English are lowly, I am inspired and encouraged by my wife, a graduate of English. Despite my own humble literary beginnings, I enjoy the work of a number of the Haiku masters and the poetry of Emily Dickinson.
Born in Bradford, England, my childhood was spent playing in woodlands near the River Aire, Yorkshire or learning to break out of school from a very early age to play in those same woods. My family life was frequently outdoors, walking and boating (playing Swallows and Amazons) on Coniston Water in the English Lake District. As an infant I was carried, later reluctantly dragged, hill-walking in the Yorkshire Dales, North York Moors, English Lake District and mountains of Snowdonia, Wales.
Much of my childhood was spent in woods and wild places and out of class-rooms. At school I became renown for my practise of making an escape from the classroom without the teacher’s knowledge – or at least without their prevention! Despite this I remember having an early affinity for poetry and a flair for creative writing. If only my teachers and parents could get me to stay in the class-room! But of course, they could not.
I had an early affinity for poetry and a flair for creative writing. If only my teachers and parents could get me to stay in the class-room…
My formative years were spent living in and around a remote farmhouse upon the desolate Yorkshire heather moorlands. Located somewhere near Haworth, the realm of the Bronte’s. In contrast, through the sport of karate, my karma was aligned with Eastern thinking and I developed a liking for Japanese art, verse and the conundrum of the koan. I penned my first attempts at the age of 15, although I never considered myself a poet.
Despite the acerbic twists and circuitous deviations of fate, karma or whatever you may call the various different paths, eventually something brought me to my sweet-heart. We are now married and exercise our own children upon those same moorlands that we walked in our youthful exuberance.
I wrote my first haiku, after our second child miscarried
I returned to poetry, writing my first haiku, after our second child miscarried. After many of my own ‘cat’s lives’ had expired I began to write more frequently, perhaps as I realise that I maybe living my last.