As I continuously chip away at the mountain of poetry I’ve written since 2015,  I get to sift through the dust and bones of my momentary thoughts. Most of the time, I cringe. Seriously, I thought that was remotely good? Yes, yes, I did. But then some days the poems I transcribe to this website actually make me smile.

It’s mainly the story-driven poems that I discover I love. The ones that set a small scene and surprise me a year later with my sometimes morbid, sometimes starry-eyed and hopeful plots. In Poem #568 and Poem #570, I wrote what I would describe as horror poems, which is probably not my usual fair. Mostly, I just loved reading them. It was a good feeling. I really wish I knew what I had been doing those days to have those poems pop into my brain.

Maybe it’s a bit narcissistic of me, but I love those poems. They are unpolished and off-the-cuff. They are also fun to read.

Anyway, feel free to comment with how you feel about your old poetry! Do you love it? Do you want to burn it? Why?