Hi there.

Thanks for popping in. Topic today? Poetry. I used to write a lot of poetry when I was a young girl. It was a way to express my thoughts and emotions back then, before I discovered other ways out of my head, like art and pottery. I also used to read and still do read a lot of poetry.

I have my favourites: John Keats, John Clare, Maya Angelou – to name but a few. These three are so different in their style and power!

John Keats was one of the Romantics, alongside Shelley and Byron. Born 1795 – Died 1821. So he died at the young age of 25! How could a man write like Keats, so beautifully and so prolifically – and only have lived for 25 years?

Then there was John Clare. Another Romantic poet. He was around at the same time, and lived a lot longer, (1793 – 1864), but spent a good deal of his life in an insane asylum because they declared him mad. He certainly sufferend from depression and mental anguish, and his works reflect an often tortured mind. He was from a poor farming family, and became known as the Peasant Poet.  But to read his poetry is a rare treat indeed. It just resonates with me like nothing else.

And then Maya Angelou, my absolute Shero. My God! I loved that woman! She died in 2014 at the age of 86, and what a legend she was! I will never EVER forget listening to her at an impromptu recital at The Glide Church in San Francisco when the kids were just nippers. The lilt of her voice and the sway of her hips were enthralling. Here is a poem of hers, which describes her perfectly.

Phenomenal Woman.

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.

I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size   

But when I start to tell them,

They think I’m telling lies.

I say,

It’s in the reach of my arms,

The span of my hips,   

The stride of my step,   

The curl of my lips.   

I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,   

That’s me.

I walk into a room

Just as cool as you please,   

And to a man,

The fellows stand or

Fall down on their knees.   

Then they swarm around me,

A hive of honey bees.   

I say,

It’s the fire in my eyes,   

And the flash of my teeth,   

The swing in my waist,   

And the joy in my feet.   

I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That’s me.

Men themselves have wondered   

What they see in me.

They try so much

But they can’t touch

My inner mystery.

When I try to show them,   

They say they still can’t see.   

I say,

It’s in the arch of my back,   

The sun of my smile,

The ride of my breasts,

The grace of my style.

I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That’s me.

Now you understand

Just why my head’s not bowed.   

I don’t shout or jump about

Or have to talk real loud.   

When you see me passing,

It ought to make you proud.

I say,

It’s in the click of my heels,   

The bend of my hair,   

the palm of my hand,   

The need for my care.   

’Cause I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That’s me.

So this week our Design Collection of the week is a modest tribute to poets and poetry everywhere…

Every Tuesday we launch a favourite Design of the Week with 30% off, plus club discount, to celebrate our 30th year in business.

Available in A6 stamps

and A5 Groovi

Available HERE

Here is some wonderful inspiration from our wonderful design team

Quote for the day?

Here’s a little poem from another brilliant young Canadian poet, which says EXACTLY what I am feeling today..

Let it go
Let it leave
Let it happen
nothing in this world
was promised or
belonged to you anyway
– all you own is yourself

Rupi Kaur

That’s it. That’s poetry. It’s a way through, a way out. A way to unravel feelings, and get some clarity. Whether you read it or write it. Much like crafting.

Have a good evening. Love always

Barb x x x