Pascale Petit is a poet. An autobiographical poet. A confessional poet. Indeed her writings, although rich in animal imagery, chart her unhappy childhood, with particular focus on her troubled relationship with her father.

When we speak, it’s mere days since she was awarded the 2013 Manchester Poetry Prize, a prestigious competition devised by Poet Laureate Carol Ann Duffy.

Her win has made her £10,000 richer and was secured by a collection of unpublished poems from her forthcoming collection Fauverie, a follow-up to her widely acclaimed Zoo Father.

Despite the nature of her writings, it’s clear the subject of her family isn’t one she’s completely comfortable talking about. And it’s not surprising why.

Born in France, she endured a traumatic childhood. In her early years she was abused and then abandoned by her father, and her mother battled with mental illness. As such, by the age of seven, Pascale found herself living in Wales with her grandmother. Her father didn’t re-enter her life until 35 years later, when he was dying.

“It is very important to me that I turn my pain into art,” she whispers. “Zoo Father was all about my father Michel; he had vanished from my life for 35 years, so it was a shock for him to just... reappear... just like that.

“He had been an abusive and nasty man,” she nervously laughs, “so the whole collection was my reaction to him suddenly reappearing, dying from emphysema. I needed to transform that experience, to cope, I suppose.

“I don’t really want to talk about my mother. But my grandmother was wonderful, I have happy memories of my time in Wales.”

It was in a Welsh classroom that Pascale had her first brush with poetry – an English teacher read Keats’ Ode to a Nightingale aloud, and to put it simply, “it just spoke” to her.

Nonetheless, she didn’t follow the traditional route of an aspiring poet. Rather, she decided to become a visual artist, training as a sculptor at the Royal College of Art, where she discovered the work of Mexican artist Frida Kahlo, someone who has gone on to become a rich source of inspiration for Pascale. In fact, she has had published a collection of poems based on the paintings of Kahlo – What the Water Gave Me.

“For me, there was an immediate connection. Frida suffered extreme trauma and pain growing up, as did I,” the 59-year-old explains.

“Yet, she still went on to live this very vibrant life, she dressed beautifully, she expressed her individuality.

“She turned her pain into paint, into art. And for me, that was inspiring, I connected with that. The accident she suffered as a teenager had a huge impact on her life and she dealt with that through painting. I am dealing with the trauma of my childhood, to explore the idea that my father seemed to be a very bad man, to explore the good and bad in people in my own art, my poetry.

“Plus, I love her use of animals in her work, and that’s reflected in all of my poetry, it’s something I’m very passionate about. When I was writing Zoo Father in Paris, I would go to the Jardin des Plantes and take in all the different animals, particularly South American species, which I’d become inspired by when I visited the Amazon in the past.”

This latest award win for Fauverie is not the first for Pascale, who lives in Walthamstow with her husband and five cats. In fact, she’s received numerous accolades for her past works including the Arts Council England Grants for the Arts Award on three separate occasions.

“It’s a great feeling to have won, to know that people like what I’m creating,” she says modestly. There’s a long pause. Then she makes her confession: “Lots of poets choose not to be personal or use the ‘I’ voice in their work, but for me that’s never been a choice.

“I write what I have to write. It’s not cathartic sharing my feelings with people as such, but it is cathartic in the sense that I feel I’m making art, it’s cathartic to express yourself.

“My father never read any of my poems during his lifetime, he only spoke French and I wrote in English. We never made our peace, but turning my father into a book – that’s cathartic.

“My experience... He... It’s... well... it’s all become art.”