Thursday, 17 November 2016

A poem by Louisa Campbell

Feral You


Oh no, no, no do not forgive,
but grab on tight to all your grief.
Don’t take your fury by the arm
and frogmarch it into the street:
It will survive on scraps of thoughts
and memories left out for it

and sometimes scrawny, sometimes sleek,
at night time it will stand and screech as
bold as brawn, outside your gate,
when you're grown up,
when it's too late.







Louisa Campbell is a product of a weird religious upbringing, happily married (third time around) mother of two children, who hangs around spa towns. A psychiatric nurse in the past, she now has a bizarre illness that can make her everso slightly psychotic, but has the bonus that it provides lashings of material for creative writing. Her ambition is to reach out with her poetry and connect with, or even comfort, someone. In the mean time, she adopts stray dogs, stray people and stray thoughts. And bakes cupcakes.

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