My first love…Poetry

writing woman

Today, for the first time in quite a while, I came to the blog as a visitor. I read past posts from the beginning stages and was shocked. I’d forgotten some of these pieces and I am ashamed of that. In those moments, I fell in love with poetry all over again; particularly, my poetry. I was reminded of what it means to me which leads to today’s post…

All of my writing is personal and beloved but my poetry is a special little piece of me. I love it differently because I was serious about it first. I can revisit pieces and recall how I felt when I wrote them and they give me a sense of piece because some of my shorter pieces all come in one sitting so I am in essence pouring my feelings out onto paper or the computer screen. It’s the great poetry purge. Many of the pieces I share on the blog are therapeutic and even if they are not based on my personal experience they still touch me in a way that is extremely profound. I love poetry in the way that most people recall their first real love because in so many ways, poetry made me a writer. For me, poetry was the gateway drug to writing fiction and taking non-fiction seriously. I like to think that I have always been a writer (remind me to post about my first story) but poetry just reminded me of the fact.

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