Poetic April

I was a poet first, before I'd ever written a line of prose. Which I might tell you to make myself sound interesting, prodigious, but I was actually 8 years old in the time of which I speak and the poem was stupid. Though it's true that I've wanted to be a writer ever since then, and that it was poetry that inspired that yearning. I wrote poetry quite regularly in the years that followed, much of it cripplingly teenage. Some of the better stuff I've even posted here. But I don't write poetry anymore. I thought it was better to concentrate my talents where they seemed to lie, and I felt I didn't know enough about the stuff to make it my own.

But there is something about April. We've just passed a long, hard winter, all poetry seemingly sucked out of life, and so during next month I aim to inject some, in large doses. Even if it has to be in lieu of real spring. I've been inspired by writer Laurel Snyder (one of my favourite bloggers for years now) to write a poem per day, for it will be National Poetry Month after all. To be posted here. Just small poems, and I make no promises of them being any good, but I think the exercise will be interesting. In fact, some under-stimulated muscle somewhere in my head is absolutely crying out for this.

In addition, of course, I plan to read quite a bit of poetry. Once our boxes are unpacked in the new house, twill be a perfect time to embark upon the unread books on my shelf by David McGimpsey and Carol Ann Duffy. To reread The Octupus by my favourite poet Jennica Harper. To memorize my favourite poem Portrait of a Lady, which I've been wanting to do for years (though this is unlikely). I'll also pick up Snyder's book (as she's started this after all).

With spring comes such inspiration.