About Me | Writer Bio | Poetry

My Name is Carolyn

A collaboration with my muse in free verse

My name is Carolyn - rhymes with Marilyn - the similarities end right there I’m no movie star never been blond in my life and Elton John doesn’t know who I am!

My name is Carolyn, not Caroline, Carol, nor Caz if you address me by these then please be aware I’ll more likely reply, “Who? You talking to me?” By the same token, sugary pet names - honey-dear, sweetie-pie, cupcake – grate on my nerves give me the squirms and are likely to have me wince, flinch, and choke.

So in case it’s not clear I have a thing about names at least the bit about getting them right aside from all that I’m not all that special I just do what I can to be the best that I am I’m no different to most I think we’re the same but please don’t go pushing my buttons! If by chance you choose to go there just letting you know I’ll scowl, and I’ll frown, and I’ll mutter!

Please understand, it’s not that you’re wrong it’s more about me and the need to do work on myself. There’s the rub. It’s not about me; it’s about you and how I can help. You see, I’m a helper through and through. Well, to be precise I’m more of a teacher but now’s not the time to split hairs.

Speaking of hairs, I have quite a few unfortunately, predominantly gray – or are they silvery blond?! Either way, it comes with having seen too many New Moons but not quite enough cos, by God’s holy grace, He decrees I can stay a little while longer on Earth - maybe check how I’m going tomorrow!

And then there’s my writing Oh, the writing! It’s become quite an affair of the heart infatuated by words I know that’s absurd but love does that to you, you know. If it continues like this divorce will be on his lips as my husband’s not coping too well!

Let me tell you, I love all you guys here on Medium you’ve turned my world upside down so glad to be here – an editor on Paper Poetry! Wow, how did that happen?! Just hope I can hold on for the ride! You see, poetry gives me a blast like a pepper shot to the arse oops, we didn’t need to go there! Let me start that again, I got carried away by the rhyme and the rhythm and wordplay.

So where were we? Oh yes, the poetry. Whoever knew I was a poet? It came as a surprise to me. I thought I was a writer of prose - nonfiction, fiction, take your pick - but the poetry bug came and bit me bit me hard and infected my brain I suspect it’s due to my BFF, my soul sister, who’s now my heavenly muse. Shh, I’m busy right now. So sorry. It’s Lynda butting in. What’s that? Okay, I’ll tell them. She says you’re all awesome but I think you already knew that. So, what’s left to say is, “Have a great day, and all thanks to you for being here.”

© Carolyn Hastings 2021

The rest of the conversation with Lynda, my heavenly muse, went like this –

Me: But Lynda, look what we’ve done?!

Lynda (laughing and clapping): I know, isn’t it fantastic?! I love it!!

Me: But Lynda, this isn’t what Suntonu asked me to write. He wanted something small and we’ve done verbal spew.

Lynda: It’s perfect. He’ll love it.

Me: But what if he doesn’t?

Lynda: Who cares? This is you.

Me: You mean, this is us.

Lynda pauses and looks directly at me as it registers with her what I’ve just said. And like she has done so many times before, not just for me but for all those she loves so fiercely, she says the three words that mean so much to her —

“I love you.”

And then she’s gone. She usually has the last word!

Lynda would say those three words, I love you, in a way that made you feel like she was imprinting them into your soul. It was like she was leaving a little part of herself there for you to keep and cherish forever. Now that she’s returned to her heavenly Maker, I can’t help but think that what she was doing was building a spiritual bridge as a means of connection — one that she could carry with her to Heaven. I feel her presence often. Some days the spiritual bridge functions like a highway with thoughts racing in both directions. Other days, it’s more like a slow, gentle amble along a country path. She’s still the same Lynda. She hasn’t changed one scrap.

I don’t know why I’m sharing this with you here on Medium. You probably think I’m completely insane (more reason for Suntonu to question his wisdom in asking me to be co-editor for his publication!). I think what I’m trying to say is that the words I write are not always mine. They’ve been gifted to me, and I would like to give Lynda credit for being the facilitator and the inspiration for much of my creativity. She is, after all, my muse. 👼 💛

Thank you for reading. Please know that I am here to help any way I can.

Extra special thanks to Suntonu Bhadra for having faith that I might possess the skills needed to be a co-editor on his uniquely awesome publication, Paper Poetry. A very warm welcome and my most sincere best wishes to my fellow co-editor and writer, Indubala Kachhawa, as together we venture into editorial waters for the first time. I look forward to fruitful discussions, joyous collaboration, much learning, and inspiration from the wonderful writing community we have here at Paper Poetry and, more broadly, on Medium.