Why I Write

…because I am a junkyard poet living in a man’s world.

I write…

…because I was brought up believing that only the practical matters so a pragmatist I became.

I write…

…because I have dueled in the hollows with the dogs of despair. They may nip at my heels, but writing keeps me one step ahead of them.

I write…

…to remain awake and help others to do the same.

I write…

…because I have a gypsy heart.

I write…

…because I was told once by someone who mattered that principles don’t and arguing them would get me nowhere. Wrong – they get you everywhere, I have them and they matter most.

I write…

…to swim around in the depths of my soul and look around a bit. When I return to the surface, I write about what I saw – some of it pretty, some of it no-so-pretty, all of it real.

I write…

…to leave the past behind and leap towards the future. A tomorrow that is richer, brighter and more meaningful than yesterday.

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