giltalks's Blog

When am deep in my world
My head spinning to the sounds of silence
Breathing the air of violence
Bleeding,my arm on my ribs
On my knees as flashes of doted lines upon my concrete roof
Pine curved into rugged,rough edges spelling my life’s pages
Words I could say,sipped through the tongue into oblivion
Rhythms I could have sung
Never to capture the ears of men.unheard!
Unheard are my thoughts,
The seed of my existence,the power of my essence
Never to be!
Clenched fists,no stories of punches
All the doves I enslaved in my fist,never set free into the sky
All the soaring eagles I offered a bed to lie
Peaceful slumber,to think I heard a reply!

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About Danny Kemp

I was at work one sunny November day in 2006, stopped at a red traffic light when a van, driven incompetently, smashed into me. I was taken to St Thomas' Hospital and kept in for a while, but it was not only the physical injuries that I suffered from; it was also mental ones. I had lost confidence in myself let alone those around me. The experts said that I had post-traumatic stress disorder, which I thought only the military or emergency personnel suffered from. On good days, I attempted to go to work, sometimes I even made it through Blackwell Tunnel only to hear, or see, something that made me jump out of my skin and that's when the anxiety attacks would start. I told my wife that I was okay and going regularly, but I wasn't. I could not cope with life and thought about ending it. Somehow or other with the help of my wife and medical professionals, I managed to survive and ever so slowly rebuild my self-esteem. It took almost four years to fully recover, but it was during those dark depressive days that I began to write. My very first story, Look Both Ways, Then Look Behind, found a literary agent but not a publisher. He told me that I had a talent, raw, but nevertheless, it was there. His advice was to write another story and that I'm delighted to say, I did. The success of that debut novel, The Desolate Garden, was down to sheer hard work, luck, and of course, meeting a film producer.
This entry was posted in Author/Writer, Raconteur. Bookmark the permalink.


  1. Euphonos says:

    It is beautiful.

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