By Adele Duffield
My words are queueing,
like everyone else,
not yet ready for gluing
themselves together.
Like unwritten rules,
they keep apart, two metres
on lonely lily-pads of existence
in my mind,
waiting
for the moment
a tentative touch is granted
by this writing hand.
Pulling towards one another,
magnetic,
like the first embrace of lovers.
Renewed trust begins to grow
and with a long-held, heart-felt hug
poetry once again starts to flow.
Adele Duffield: I’m an Outreach Librarian, live reading, writing, poetry mainly, but have written a full length Play as well as a few other things. I’m a garden and wildlife enthusiast, and love walking so living near the sea and by the moors inspires my writing.
I found the enormity of Covid-19 stilted my writing for some time as I found it hard to try and capture the words that would be suitable to match its impact on our world. It made me feel vulnerable and inadequate so I spent the first few weeks absorbing the eerie silence and beauty of my natural surroundings.
Adele, this poem really endows words with life. If I have any criticism, it is that I find the anthropomorphism at the end is a little too much – just a bit more than inanimate words can bear. You shared it with our poetry group, and now, seeing it again, I am struck again by the apposite similes which can apply to any writer’s block. Because of this, it has a wider appeal than in a lockdown situation. The early rhyme captured my attention, and you cleverly bring in the parallels between Covid-related behaviour and the ‘behaviour’ of words. Thank you again!