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  • Writer's pictureChelsea Davies

My Story Poem

One Autumn day, while out for a wander,

In fresh south-west air, a girl starts to ponder…

What are these phrases engulfing her mind;

Twisting and turning and ending in rhyme?

This word game continues, all the way home,

Is it a story? A ballad? A poem?

The words are relentless; stuck fast in her head,

So, she puts them all down, on a white paper bed.

With a sigh of relief, she feels satisfied,

Till new words come knocking… there’s nowhere to hide!

Now searching on google for kids’ literature,

She clicks on a course to learn a bit more.

She’s set an assignment and finds herself hooked,

Then the lecturer says, ‘This could be a book!’

Might this be something, a brand-new career,

Of sharing her thoughts and word diarrhoea?

With support from her children, and one awesome spouse,

She sends it, that night, to a publishing house.

It wasn’t long after, she got the good news…

‘We like this idea and the topic you’ve used.’

Hooray, her first contract! That wasn’t so hard.

So, she sends off more stories and lets down her guard.

Her luck takes a turn as this story collection,

Heads from her outbox, straight for rejection!

“It’s a very nice story but not for our list.”

“A very good try, but we’ll give it a miss.”

“Burn this disaster, we really insist!”

But new skin must scar before it turns thick,

And good things do come from band-aids that stick.

So, the mumble and jumble of wordplay proceeds,

Now she’s writing her story for others to read.

If you like what you see, or in some way relate,

Please subscribe to this page, and she’ll think you’re great! 😊 xx


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