Long ago in days of yore … which sounds a lot nicer than "back when I was in high school." ;) Anyway, I used to write poems. I liked the challenge of trying to say what I wanted to say in as few words as possible, and to make those words rhyme somehow. I loved music, was foolish enough to fancy the idea of being a "rock star," and wanted to write "songs" I could sing to.
I stopped writing poems many years ago for a few reasons. I got older, I got married, the person I was married to at the time wasn’t interested in anything I wrote, so I put down my pen, basically. I kept everything I ever wrote though. I had folders stuffed full of finished things, and unfinished things. A divorce, a move, a new and far better marriage, my poems went with me. An essence of myself I wasn’t willing to part with.
Life gets in the way sometimes though, of what we’re willing and unwilling to do, and for reasons that really aren’t important here, it became necessary for me to put my writing into storage. That storage was subsequently robbed or ransacked, I never really found out the whole deal, but bottom line, no more poems.
And honestly, I no longer felt I had the heart for it.
My poems were all depressing anyway. That’s how I dealt with my melancholy side. I even wrote about that once. "I put my tears down on paper so you won’t see them in my eye." Now we call it emo, but back then it was just angst. 🙂
Lately though, reading through the awesome poets linked to at the bottom of this blog, I’ve started feeling inspired again. I know I’m not very good. I know I’m "Hallmarky," and I don’t pretend to be anywhere near the same level as these ladies are. And fortunately, I’m not looking to have my ego stroked either. :D I’ve just begun feeling that tentative urge again, to find notebooks and pens in pretty colors, and jot things down. So, in the interests of a blog not being able to be robbed or ransacked as easily as a storage place, I’m putting things up here for safekeeping.
Some things are recent, but I also thought I’d put up the fragments of my old stuff as they come back to me. Those
"Long forgotten tattered lines
From old and painful rhymes.
Lines so soft, yet different
And too closely intertwined."
Heh, what did I know of old and painful rhymes at 18? Little did I realize how they’d come back to haunt me like that. 🙂
So that’s my "About" and I’m sticking to it. 😉