I’ve never really thought of myself finding inspired words in poetry. However, the last few years I have been leaning hard into reading more of it and have discovered some of the most powerful writing as a result. One of my favourites is Natasha Trethewey’s Myth . However, I always seem to end up back with my first poetic love, Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

She offered me my first sense of word magic as a teen and, if I am to be honest, was the very reason I became a writer. She inspired me to be bold, experiment, play with form, fend off the desire to do what everyone else is doing.

Lately, I’m finding myself more and more drawn to writing poetry for myself. Browning and her longings seem to show up regularly and I am discovering a combination of her and Emily Dickinson with a twist of magic as the essence of my own style.

Vancouver is endless in its ability to draw out the storyteller in me. The beach near my house is so quiet and calm, even with the king tides this time of year. I like to sneak out of the house just as the sun is coming up and walk down right to the water’s edge. Sticking my hands in the cold, salty water is better than coffee. The birds, that normally stay clear of most humans, even join me in the morning ritual.

A walk along the beach a few mornings ago provoked my latest. Here is The Sea Is Your Hedge:

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