The Dyslexic Poet

Not a poem or even reference to a poem (well, that’s almost true) but I wanted to drivel-on about something that I find an issue – dyslexia!

When I was first thinking of starting a blog – with trepidation as I prefer not to write off-the-cuff – I had considered calling my page ‘The Dyslexic Poet’. Obviously the reason is that I am dyslexic and I thought it might help others who were trying to summon the courage to write BUT I didn’t have the courage to do it. I felt that my dyslexia would be more important than any poetry I managed to write and anyway, dyslexia was something I’d hidden for so long that it would have taken a massive change of behaviours to just ‘out with it’ in public. So I didn’t!

Recently however I’ve thought this through and wonder if I did the right thing.

For the first time in my life I now admit to being dyslexic – admittedly this is due to being confronted with situations I can’t control: Having to hand in an expenses form with (horror of horrors) calculations on it, taking exams and yes, submitting poetry that a (thankfully) kind person found typos (well, spell-o’s) in. Not good! I wonder if those who read those mistakes – and my maths ability is far worse than my appalling spelling – can guess how admitting to being less than perfect makes me feel.

I think I manage it with a practiced attitude of amusement. Sometimes I’m genuinely amused by my mistakes – you’d be amazed how often words make themselves into quite suggestive alternatives to the actual word wanted for instance.  I’ve also given up explaining that walking into a loo clearly marked with an ‘M’ instead of the prescribed ‘W’ isn’t me getting fresh with bemused gents with their todgers out. However, there are times when I’m nearly reduced to tears at the embarrassment of it all.

Anyway, now I’ve mulled that little bit over I’d best get back to causing confusion and consternation and hoping (originally spelt hopping) there’s a poet out there who really does have the chutzpah to which I aspire. Perhaps he/she can hold up the banner of ‘Yes, You Can’ for the rest of us who have a sneaking feeling that ‘no, we can’t’ is more likely once you strip all the bravado away.