Day and night, I have to write, crunching words, playing with rhymes, thinking, in poetry land, always a notebook and pencil to hand. Scribbling, dribbling words on the paper, it’s like a caper, verses dancing, whilst I’m romancing about perfection. Writing is my art, I have a passion, but why this fashion, why poetry, why not the spoken word, why not oratory? My mind is a laboratory, always playing with ...