Biography of Karen Honnor
I'm a frustrated poet stuck inside a Primary School teacher! Not that my job isn't worthwhile - the joy of switching kids on to the exciting world of literacy is one I would not want to miss out on. Nowadays, the constraints of the National Curriculum make my task all the more difficult but my love of words, in poems, plays and all great works of literature keep me determined to persevere nonetheless.
I have had one of my humorous poems published in a teaching magazine - it was about my classroom assistant! On a serious note, my poem 'Final Words' has been used by a friend at her mother's funeral, and has provided some comfort for other acquaintances in a similar position. Mainly though, I write from my own experiences to express myself, work through life's high and low points and sometimes just because I have to write down what's floating around my head!
I have written several scripts for the Amateur Dramatic group that I run.
Aragon Amateurs - check out our website via www.stonecothill.co.uk/aragonamateurs.html
I would dearly love to pursue a writing career but feel it wouldn't pay the bills so remain a committed amateur.
Karen Honnor Poems
You welcomed me with friendly smile when I was only 3, You took my hand and walked with me around the nursery, You let me know that you would answer if I should need to call, You reassured, encouraged me, watched that I didn’t fall,
It's Music Time
It's Music Time - what shall I do? It's Music Time today. I haven't really thought it through And it's Music Time today.
Marching forward go the steps of time, Incessant twists and turns along the line. Like a hand of cards deal out a sudden chance, Life’s choices lead an ever-moving dance.
Tate - striking, quite unusual place, Standing proud, asuming a somewhat ungainly grace, The outside deceptive, as you begin, Hiding the treasures that lie within,
Dangerous times we live in now, the world's gone mad. Every day the news tells of another tragedy, more needless waste. Bombarded with these images, can we still tell how bad? They become background fragments of our lives of haste.
Marching forward go the steps of time,
Incessant twists and turns along the line.
Like a hand of cards deal out a sudden chance,
Life’s choices lead an ever-moving dance.
Each one of us must choose which way to go
Not knowing if we’ll harvest seeds we sow.
Night follows day, from that point we begin,
In earth’s merry-go-round of life we spin
Until we fade, for new life to shine through,