| Author: | Leonie van de Vorle | ISBN: | 9781497731851 |
| Publisher: | Leonie van de Vorle | Publication: | November 20, 2013 |
| Imprint: | Language: | English |
| Author: | Leonie van de Vorle |
| ISBN: | 9781497731851 |
| Publisher: | Leonie van de Vorle |
| Publication: | November 20, 2013 |
| Imprint: | |
| Language: | English |
What was I to do, as a shy young girl, in the late 1960's with my thoughts and emotions? I had always felt at odds with the world, awkward and on the outside, and I didn't really understand why.
One day at high school I started doodling then writing about what was in my head. It was the era of the Vietnam War, Woodstock and Nuclear Bomb tests in the South Pacific. As I lived in New Zealand, the bomb tests were close to home.
After high school I travelled Europe in a combi-van and wrote about that too. Then my younger brother was tragically killed in a car crash and I returned to New Zealand. The poetry dried up.
But several years ago I re-discovered my poems in my "Big Red Poetry Book" and decided to publish them.
So what you have here then are writings both poetically incorrect and uncultured, the raw outpourings and protests of a young soul urged to express thoughts and feelings in the best way she could. Privately, on paper, hidden, for forty years, until she was braver and wiser. Mature.
What was I to do, as a shy young girl, in the late 1960's with my thoughts and emotions? I had always felt at odds with the world, awkward and on the outside, and I didn't really understand why.
One day at high school I started doodling then writing about what was in my head. It was the era of the Vietnam War, Woodstock and Nuclear Bomb tests in the South Pacific. As I lived in New Zealand, the bomb tests were close to home.
After high school I travelled Europe in a combi-van and wrote about that too. Then my younger brother was tragically killed in a car crash and I returned to New Zealand. The poetry dried up.
But several years ago I re-discovered my poems in my "Big Red Poetry Book" and decided to publish them.
So what you have here then are writings both poetically incorrect and uncultured, the raw outpourings and protests of a young soul urged to express thoughts and feelings in the best way she could. Privately, on paper, hidden, for forty years, until she was braver and wiser. Mature.
