Not All Poems

The words that come aren’t all poems. Don’t always rhyme or keep a time. Don’t fit the definition. Sometimes it’s just thoughts that we have to get down. As I’m driving in to work, or going about my day – returning from some thing I’ve been to… I find them. Or sometimes they find me. I remember I used to write my stuff on napkins, backs of brown paper lunch sacks, and in tiny little notebooks tucked into my purse or, on days when I felt especially inspired, I would even take a small notebook to work (even when I worked at the movie theater concession stand), in hopes of not missing the muse. I have journal upon journal filled with words… and that’s just it…. It’s not just words. It’s life. If I ever have the time, I would so love to take those words on those pages and type them and save them…. They don’t have to ever be published. I just want them organized and preserved. It is, after all, my life – in words.

And, along that note, I’ll say this entry is yet another attempt at staying true to a goal for returning to my self… writing. I feel it might be a slow start, but I must start somewhere.

Here I am - starting