today,
my journal talked to me
it took me to when
I first began to write
to where
words flow as forgotten text
once again brought forth
pages filled with memories
clips from snippets
not published,
await me…
will I reconsider?
will revision
give these new life
in the realm of poetry?
my journal whispers to me,
“return to me anytime you need inspiration”
between my pages are verse found
within an emporium of words
scribbled in beautiful lines of poetry
transcribed between scratched through lines,
discarded,will again be reconsidered,
are scattered among yet to be
rediscovered fragments of language
awaiting creative vision
as I close my journal
I know my journal will
talk to me again
it will inspire forgotten thought
to later be revised,
rejuvenated as poetry
thoughts now chosen to fill
pages of line, verse, and stanza
are created, rearranged,
and revised as my latest
poetic masterpiece
my Journal awaits
when next
I write my thoughts and visions
composing a digest of inspiration
to flow from its pages as
poetry
Poetry
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This made me want to find my old journal and read through some of my early stuff. I’ve probably forgotten a lot of it by now.