Only teaching and interacting with students at the elementary school, where I was a teacher’s aide for 12 years and now am  substitute teacher, fills that place in my heart and soul where I feel  called to as much or more than writing poetry. When I do not write, or  have dry spell, I feel as if I have lost my way. I worry that the  inspiration is gone and there is emptiness that only writing poetry can fill.

This may sound odd or unusual, but for me I feel there is a box, a room, or compartment in my head always writing silently. That room has access to all I am. It has access to my experiences and dreams and hopes – to my world view. I believe you cannot write about what you have not emotionally touched to some degree at some point in your life whether you remember consciously or not. Then, when a poem has formed enough, it opens its door and I begin to have poetic thoughts seep out. They usually seep out inconveniently while I am driving alone in my car. I am relaxed there and listening to the radio and sometimes even singing. If the thought is strong, I will retain it enough to write it down as soon as possible. If the thought fades, then it really was not ready.

Now, the outer me, is the one who has to shape the poem. I rarely keep everything in a poem that comes out at first. I have mold and filter the poem restraining the flow from the room. That flow can be gentle, hopeful, angry, sarcastic, imaginative, outrageous, or a combination of them all. I decide how far the poem should go. The angry/sarcastic poems are some of my favorites to write. However, a few of those go along way and they do not reflect what I want my overall theme to be. My overall theme I work toward is that of hope and acceptance. But, everyone is combination of moods and emotions – so am I.

Once I have a poem complete to 80-90%, I put it away. It may surprise you to know that I will not look at again for years. Putting By the Pond together was a struggle because I had to look at and work on old poetry. The struggle lied in the emotional upheaval not the editing and working on them. The original emotions were and are still there. There may have been an unclear line here and there, but I remembered and felt each poem all over again. My poems are each a piece of me representing something I understand very deeply whether I have the conscious memory of it or not.