Last Page

Composed 4/14/16
Description: For Day 14 of NaPoWriMo. Can you believe it? I’m actually caught up! And I even have a poem stewing for tomorrow! Anyway.

Today I filled up the last page of my “creative” notebook: a small, lined book I usually carry around with me in order to scribble down ideas, lists, a few lines that pop into my head, or even complete poems.

open notebook with mechanical pencil
The Notebook

This notebook became a way to write down and contain my ideas in an organized place; in other words, a way to avoid writing things down on “Scraps of Paper“: receipts, random loose-leaf, napkins, etc. (i.e. things that get lost easily). Usually these are first drafts that get transferred to a Word document where they’re edited and then (ta dah!) sent to you.

Anyway, I so rarely reach the end of any notebook that this is kind of a momentous occasion for me. The beginning of this notebook coincides pretty closely with my resurgence into writing and my beginning leap into poetry. Obviously, two-hundred-something poems later, it’s been a huge success.

So what do you do when you reach that last page? That thing that symbolizes so much time and hard work and even a new section of your life?

Well, you write an ode of sorts to it, naturally.

Last page
It’s taken awhile to get here
And I’ve seen too few of your kind
I hope to not disappoint
With these last few scribbled lines
Then again
It’s not the end
You’re more like a bookmark to me
This is only one small finale
The start of many beginnings
Still
I feel good
You’ve given me so much pride
So thanks for the memories
Thanks for the ride
I guess this is goodbye then
I’ll move on to something else
But I’ll always hold you high
Up on my bookshelf

The Thief

Composed 7/30/13
Description: Multiple things this could refer to. But they’re all situations writers fear…

He stole her inspiration
Cut out her tongue
Paralyzed her fingers
He left emptiness where there was life
Fear where there had been love
But worse
He invaded her heart and mind
And all without permission

She’d run a thousand miles
To save the innocents he’d taken
So she chased him down
To a house uptown
And knocked him off his block
And she got her inspiration back
All one hundred pages