Once upon a midnight dreary……….

I use to read poetry.  Long ago when I was a young teenage girl.  Probably 13, 14 or 15 years old.  At that age everything that happens to you is very dramatic.  My dad had a rather large book of poetry by Robert Burns.  I found it, read it, loved it.  I’ve read Burns, Poe, Dickinson, Browning, and others that I have forgotten.  I recently discovered Sylvia Plath and that has brought me back to poetry.  I can’t remember how I stumbled across her, but I did.  Maybe looking for a quote for something or someone.

I’ve always been a reader.  A nice big book and nice quiet spot in the yard is the perfect way to spend a weekend.  Years ago we use to take the boat out and spend the night on the lake.  It wasn’t a large boat.  A 22 foot cutty cabin.  That was also a good place to read, just drifting in the water or anchored in a quiet cove somewhere.

But now I am back to reading poems and short stories.  Sylvia Plath has reawakened my interest in poetry again.  Not just her poems and stories, but others as well

Maybe everyone is like me.  When I find an author that I like to read, I also become interested in their life as well.  Its interesting to me that someone can take their neurosis, their struggles and turn them into poetry.  I’m envious of these people and fascinated by them as well.  I wish I could write poetry.  I’ve tried, but it just isn’t in me, I think.

Maybe you have to live some sort of tragic life.  Mine has been pretty mundane.  Maybe one day when life slows down and I’m not having to run here and there I will find some poetry way down deep in my soul.  Maybe there is something creative down inside of me that others might find interesting or could identify with.

Email me some of your favorite poets.  I would like to know what is out there that I might be missing.  In the meantime I will leave you with my favorite poem for the moment:


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