I was strolling through the library book cases today and I found myself in the mist of books on poetry. How delightful! For about a half hour I stood there reading through poem after poem. I’ve forgotten how much I love poetry. Finding those books sparked the poetic soul in me again and I’m really excited about that.
I remember lying on the floor in my old house right in front of the window. During the summer, the sun would shine directly into the room and create a warm circle on the carpet. I used to curl up on that spot and read poetry books until I fell asleep. I think those were some of the best days of my life. Pure calm and happiness.
I’ve talked a lot about how much it I love writing and everything it means to me. I’ve been trying to write a poem for the longest time and I kept hitting a wall. But after reading those poems today, I feel like the veil has been lifted.
I mean most of my writing is still crap but every once in a while I write a sentence or a paragraph that I love. I’m collecting all of those pieces together. I’d love to write a poetry book. But for now I just want to fill a journal with my poems. I started writing one today. I really love it. I may put it up here in the future, but for now I just love the excitement of loving poetry again.