Friday, 13 March 2020


Here's a poem about dyslexia.

my life in letters

for me bs and ds were interchangeable
one letter and its reflection I could fit wherever
this practice hall marked me a slow learner
word blind and spelling remained a mystery

my mothers advice to break down difficult words
did not take into account
my long vowel northern voiced tendency
to sprinkle extra a’s and e’s about

the thesaurus became my life preserver
as I looked up words of similar meaning
and hoped what I required was waiting patiently
amid the ranks and columns with its friends

the spell check facility of middle age
enabled spellings to be puzzled out
different combinations chanced
until the red underlining went away

secretly I still suspect those people
who demand consistent sequences
who fear the world of bespoke words
tailored to suit that unique moment

I don't need to say much about it. I think it speaks for itself and keen readers of this blog may have already come to this conclusion.

Here's Anna Ternheim with a song I haven't heard before.

Until next time.

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