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.

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