Seems like I’m back to my stream of consciousness poems. Sometimes it’s good to do different things. (You mean, actually write something in one of your Writing Day posts? Why yes, cynical voice in my head. haha) =)
I’ve kept all my main scribbles since I was 11. Found them all
In a box under my bed tonight. We were clearing out old things
To renew the energy, and I found I could not let go of my old scraps
Of writing. Some, I could, because they were meaningless. Some, I couldn’t.
Nowadays it’s rare to write on paper, we mostly write on cold glass surfaces.
If I have a new idea I write on a scrap of paper, my daily planner, sometimes
The serviettes of a random café. Anything on which to write it down, and not lose that
Wisp of smoke, that stroke of wonder, that creative spark that floated down from the stars. Continue reading