Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Reflections I

Getting back into writing for the first time in decades (?) has certainly had me thinking about the times in my life where it was a major focus. I now wish I had saved some copies of old writings instead of throwing them all away when I moved out of my parents' house. We used to do this thing in my English class called Writer's Studio. We would first do rough drafts in our spirals/3 ring binders, that's right-pen to paper, and then have time to type them into the computer and print them out. My notebook was ALWAYS a disaster. Papers torn out of spirals in no particular order. Multiple copies of the same poem. It was an ink-stained mess! During one of our free writing (as in not directed by way of writing topic) days I was *ahem* inspired by the neatness of my friend's studio. This is the only thing I wrote that I can remember. I'd edit it for a modern twist but not a whole lot has really changed. Here it is with bizarre formatting thrown in per my style back then:

I sit at my desk with a sausage shaped spine,
my studio's cluttered and so is my mind.
Typed papers, garbage and final copies I find,
a cluttered desk; a cluttered mind.
I flip through the papers from the front to the back,
the pages of my story aren't in order
Oh, what a wreck.
I look around and what's this I see? About the person sitting next to me
Their desk is empty, now what a find,
Could an empty desk mean an empty mind?

There it is, an original Heather Nesmith from 1988 when I was in the 6th grade. I sure hope I've gotten better with age ;)

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