Two forms of writing…

book-love2There are two forms of writing I`ve done my whole life. The one is novel writing aka stories ,as I called them when I started at fourteen. And poetry, which I started a little earlier at eleven and was earnestly writing from age twelve. My brother and sister got me on the poetry bandwagon. We`d been listening to music in the bedroom my sister and I  shared on one rainy afternoon, and I noticed something odd. I was the only one with a magazine in my hands, while my brother scribbled in a book and my sister also sat with a notebook. So typical youngest child, also wanting to be in on the action, I asked them what they were doing. The answer, writing a poem. Novice that I was, I asked, “can I also write one?” My brother looked at me for a second and replied, “Yes.” So I asked him for a paper and a pen and he gave them to me. Then I sat there on our red carpet (used to love that thing). And I sat there. And I sat there. After awhile I asked him, “so what am I supposed to write about?” He was really into what he was doing so he just replied offhandedly, “Anything.”

Oh the woe…how could he say such a thing. I didn`t have a clue of what to write and he told me, ANYTHING. That`s just asking for torture. So in an attempt to focus my mind, I ended up in his room, closing the door tightly behind me and laying my head on his couch while slumped on his blue carpet, I stared up at his walls plastered with celebrities from British rock and pop, to American actors, to sports personalities. And that`s when my first poem was born, “If I.” Basically a commentary on ‘if I’ was like so and so would I be viewed as such and such, it ended off with this insightful idea (for a eleven year old) “but if I`m me, who else can I be but me?”

When I read it to my siblings they looked at me like I`d grown two heads. LOL Yeah, I realized then that I did have something to say, I could write about anything and express myself in a way that with a few lines, said everything.

So, for my love of poetry (written by me or not) I decided to every once in a blue, blue moon, to have a post dedicated to it.

Here goes 🙂

even those tight little kisses

keep on haunting me

walking this empty wet street

there`s no calm in me

the way your lips held mine

can`t  believe things changed

like the stars hold the night

you`ll never get to hold me

even those stretched out

no-we`re-not-done

even if we pull apart

we- still-can`t-part kisses

still tug at my heart

what was it we said?

we`ll stop when we`re dead

what was it we said?

we`ll never go cold to bed

what was it we said?

we`ll never stray,

we`ll always stay,

this way…

it`s those tight little kisses

that I`ll miss the most

those core twisting loves

you know, you`ll never get over.

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