Unnecessary Poetry
By Kimberly
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About this ebook
As a child my favourite play time was to imagine. My imagination took me places no one else knew about, places that were fairy tales and places I actually created. Unless I was just imaging this, but were always places of fun. As a woman at 45 I still thrive on my imagination to work the same way. As a writer I try and share with my reader what it is I have to offer, not what I have to sell. Unnecessarypoetry I hope touches your imagination in a way maybe it has not been before. After all, the right thing to guide us, is right here inside us. Kimberly Gray, author.
Kimberly
I was told don’t wait to heal. Write to heal. I have been writing ever since. What a gift my now deceased father in law gave me. I believe he too knew the extend I would search to practice this. So here I am. An author, writer, poet, novelist and journalist, I play to be. Published now seven times with this book “Tush.” Never would I imagine I could accomplish this and benefit so much from my pen. Clearly, like many I have had such agonizing ways to which I met myself and questionable ways to which my patience let me find myself.To the new writer I say this. Don’t do it if it’s forced, only if you truly love it. Write everyday. Write emotions and places in never before found, and with colours only you have seen. Write from the heart and think nothing of editing. Write knowing there is no perfection and write for others as much as yourself. Write while learning something new about yourself in every sentence. Write because you have to. If any of these feel safe and familiar, you are and love to write. Me too.I’ll repeat this; when I write, I search for the romantic part of me and mix it with the down to earth girl walking that pavement every day. I have only just begun.
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Unnecessary Poetry - Kimberly
about the author
writing terrifies me. writing provokes me. writing inspires me. writing identifies me. writing drives me. writing defines me. writing speaks for me. writing frees me. writing challenges me. writing protects me. writing excites me. writing humbles me.
writing teaches me, writing stimulates me, writing creates me, writing pisses me off while making me smile every time. writing has a way of always entering my mind with sequenced words i adore whenever i am without a pen. writing pays nothing and nothing is my everything.
truth is so freeing and when words to my real truth come to life, i hold no shame or guilt but rather heal. i have only just begun.
i’ll say this. my name is kimberly gray and have never considered myself a writer, rather a messenger. grandiose, i hope not, but i have a strong need to touch people. a belief that sharing my experience, strength and hope is not for nothing, and ask only for a small something.
i now know my life and every speck of my pain, has created an enormous gift of some kind. in the strangest of ways. eventually.
this may be the most important trait you need to know about me. i am 45 years old. i have not stepped into a classroom since the age of 13. i have never read a book entirely. whether through sharing pain, joy, horror, gifts, misfortunes, loss, it all stems from me. meaning, i only know to share myself in hopes of touching another, anyone.
accompanied with schizophrenia and severe agoraphobia, hard-core street smarts gave me a trio of gifts from very painful consequences and demoralizing challenges; it very quickly created intuition and strong perceptive abilities when dealing with people. it is my superpower. the ability to instantly know a person before they even talk.
here lies the true magical gift. mental illness has treated me with an imagination i could not buy, if possible. it has taken me from places of horror, let me drift from pain, create anything i want with no hesitation, and most importantly write. writing is healing for me. again, i have just begun.
with respect to my persona, it is imperative to know i am a champion pillow fighter, 3 years running, i love to stick my right toe into my tub bath spout while running and soak everything in its vicinity. most people ‘don’t get me’, suppose i do not either, therefore i am constantly meeting myself.
i have spent a great deal of agonizing ways to which i have met myself and yet more moments to which i was left to find myself.
i love thunderstorms, bareback riding and gambling. attention, compliments and most above anything else, humor. especially if, i am laughing, at myself.
i want to tell you as a woman how strong I am, emotionally. i cannot, so i grab my pen. i want to tell you i was a mother, i cannot, so i grab my pen. i want to tell you what a great wife and housekeeper i am, but i am not, so i grab my pen. i would want to tell you i am a genius, but i am not, so i grab my pen. i will tell you i love people, and i grab my pen. i will tell you i live in a fairy tale, and i grab my pen. i will tell you 80% of my time is spent alone, so i grab my pen. i can tell you i am very sensitive and caring, and i grab my pen. i must tell you i love so very deeply, so i grab my pen. i still prefer to do all my writing by pen and love real books from real authors who really have something to say.
i believe we all have a story. all writers for that matter. the magical gift in that is there will