I don’t remember, now, how my little group in high school (about 50 years ago) found out I wrote poetry. I do remember guys and girls asking me to write love poems for them to give their girlfriends/boyfriends. That was long ago and, thankfully, memories fade or become less painful.
I do remember my three-ring notebook/binder. I hadn’t thought about that notebook in a long time. Then, this week, I made an entry about a messy desktop and there were comments about people’s notebooks, etc.
I don’ t do notebooks any longer. One day someone stole my poetry notebook from my locker. I was about 16 so there must have been about 4 years of poetry in that notebook. Gone…and so I don’t do notebooks any longer.
Isn’t that odd? That some kid would steal my poems from my locker? When I think about how famous and rich stealing my poetry must have made them, I get very angry. Hahaha!
I don’t do notebooks any longer. I prefer to put my poetry on the internet fully aware that someone may steal it and not get rich or famous. That’s not a thrilling thought either but at least it’s honest. I’ve always given my poetry away or thrown it away. I just hope who ever stole that notebook still has it…
I think I want to write a sonnet now. Or something mournful and morbid. I wish I still had that one notebook.