This morning I found myself scrolling through Tumblr and what can I say it got to me. I think the specific line that did it was: I don’t love you, but I wanted you to fall in love with me so that I know what it feels like. It reminded me of the kind of poems I used to write 3 or 4 years ago. Moments later I was scribbling away in a notebook writing poetry just like I used to.
A few years ago I got really into writing poetry. It was mostly about love and romance but there were some about things like loneliness and self discovery too. I used to share some of it online and also on my old blog but after about a year or so my poetry writing days came to a halt. I think it was the loss of muse.
Although I just googled ‘Can a man be a muse’ and one of the answers was Robert Graves said that the male muse doesn’t exist. He said a female poet must be her own muse, or she is nothing. So I guess I was doomed from the start.
Anyway it felt really good to write poetry again. I’m not ready to share it all with you but here are a few snippets of what I wrote this morning
It always felt like Sunday in his arms…
…Doesn’t care to be nice,
She just wants to play games…
…I hope that he still thinks of me,
Up all night with insomnia.
I love looking back on my old poems. I get this feeling of nostalgia but I can’t quite explain it fully. In a year or even a few months I’ll look back on that last quote and be reminded of the memory that it holds. It’s sweet and sort of cruel but it’s saying “I want you to miss me, dreadfully.” It’s based on truth and it hurt at the time but through writing I have developed a fondness for it.