It all came back tonight...
I wrote my first poem in many years today.
I used to write at least one daily throughout my 20’s.
Some of them were funny, many were dark, some were about new or broken love, some just about maybe an old beer can or something that I saw on a dirty summer road.
I wrote them all mostly just for me.
A couple of them were published, which was flattering, but it also felt a little weird and off. I had a bad experience as a teenager, when a school counselor printed a poem that I wrote in my junior high yearbook without asking me, and man did I catch shit for that from my buddies. (Still do!) That just wasn't something a teenage boy was supposed to do. Bullshit. Tell Hemingway that, and he would have thrown a sharp right hook right into your mug. In fact, if a poem doesn't have some balls of some kind at all, it ain't really a poem in my book anyway.
Mine were really all just for me and very rarely for a person whom I might share them with, which for me is the ultimate form of naked trust.
Somehow, I felt that I lost that fire along my way, or I at least threw a big wet blanket of reason and practicality and of being "too busy" over it to try to avoid it and put it all out.
but it just kept smoldering…
That need came back and slapped me today… hard.
It’s like flames in the veins, and this is the only way I know to quench it.
I tried to ignore and avoid that fire, but it won't go away just from turning away... even for years. Some things or people will come along and blow some wind on those glowing coals and remind you that they never went away.
Whether it’s a stink-pile or a work of genius, it doesn’t matter. It all saves me somehow.
Thank you to that whatever which is out there.
Thank you for awakening that need.
I won't ignore you anymore.