One of the things I found last night in the attic was a magazine where I had scribbled four attempts at poetry which I’d rather call Ramblings. I had written them in 2003 after my D&C which followed my second miscarriage. I posted them in my other blog on Motherhood, etc. under the post Lost Ramblings from a Mother in Mourning.
I failed to bring my poetry from my younger years the first time I left Manila for New York, but I made sure to bring them with me in 2002. Some of them are still on the original sheets I had scribbled them on — others I had managed to make into short compilations. The earliest poetry I have was from my elementary years and yes, I have them. Writing in prose these days has been a struggle. I have not really written any coherent prose in recent years — even these four pieces are barely coherent in the same sense as I was used to writing.
One of my forever to-do is to hopefully compile all those scribblings into one or a series of anthologies. Since most of them were written before I became bestfriends with computers, they are either typed (yes, through the electric typewriter of old!) and more than half are actually handwritten. Reading what I have writtent through the years is like seeing a “me” I used to know, still part of the person I am now but so different from who I have become.
I keep saying I just need to stir up the creative juices again, and once they start flowing, they will go on and on. And maybe I will get to fill notebooks again with my rhyme and reason as they say.