Georgia Beech


I’ve never been to Georgia Beach in person but it is a beautiful place, especially in the winter when it is empty. 

Empty can mean either 

peaceful or desolate.

Yet I have been taken there by the words of Margaret Atwood, in her collection of poems 1976 – 1986. I found her work at the National Poetry Library in my home town of Morpeth. 

My approach is simple. I enter the Chantry where it is housed and walk up to the shelves. I don’t take my time, I don’t linger, I take two volumes to the desk to be stamped and leave. As the wand picks the wizard then the poetry picks me. 

I can’t wait to get home, for that quiet time when I can disappear between the pages to be taken to places I have never been and to experience things I never have. 

Every book is different, each poem has something to say and every so often I come across something that excites me, troubles me or saddens me. 

Reading poetry is a spiritual experience. They resonate with my soul. I laugh and I cry.

My wish is to be a teller of stories, a poet.

Two kinds of people walk here:

those who think they have love

and those who think they are without it.

I am neither one nor the other.

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