Rediscovering Drunk on Love

Drunk on Love in the Kitchen. My blog. The place that holds my words, my heart, my joys, my sorrows, my worries, my random thoughts.

When I first began to write, I did just that: I wrote. I wrote from the depths of my soul. I loved to sit down at my laptop every morning in my sunny office, pounding out words. Everything flowed back then. I had no fear. This is what I was meant to do after retirement. Averaging three to four blog posts a week, I also attended a writer’s workshop and wrote a few articles for a local magazine. I was a writer!

I soon realized, though, that some of my words hurt others. Never meaning angst, my fingers backed away from the keyboard. My ideas began to stagnate. How could I continue to seek joy from my writing if I was constantly worrying about stomping on loved ones’ hearts? Could it be possible to find myself again through my writing? Where would I even begin?

When I skim through posts from the last four years, I ache with longing of what it used to be. How easily the words came to me. My ego full blown. Now I’m timid, scared. Have I used up all my ideas? What’s left inside? The same drivel? I need to find something to bust through the doubt. I want to regain my fierceness, my drive, my fearlessness. 

April is National Poetry Month. Back when I was teaching sophomore English, April soared for me. I introduced all types of poems, had the students write their own pieces, and I even scraped together a few ragged pieces of my own. We shared our work at the end of the month at a Poetry Coffeehouse. I brought cookies, coffee, and juice, and once pulled together a poetry slam that was loud and raucous. I’m not sure if my students got anything from the month, but I enjoyed sharing my favorite poems with them, telling them that poetry is everywhere…in song lyrics, nature, rap music, and even in their daily existence. Poetry gives us life. It delivers meaning through meter and rhyme scheme and stanzas.

My writing is prose, not poetry. Oh, I’ve tried, yet I have no style, no talent, no sense of what it takes to create such beauty and angst. But I love to read poems. I subscribe to The Academy of American Poets on Facebook. They post poems every day, some classics like “Trees” by Joyce Kilmer and others by new poets. Each gives me a dose of adrenaline; the words course through me. They help me attempt to understand and cope with my own struggles, these poet saints.

I have decided my April writing inspiration will be the world of poetry. I’ll find different poems that invigorate my soul. Words that present themselves with beauty, danger, dissonance, and tears. Today I’m just contemplating it. Later this week, I will compose. 

I will invite poetry back into my April and give it life. I’m grateful for the poets, the men and women who weave words into intricate tapestry. I am also hoping these poets will help me with my own writing, and allow me to rediscover what I have seemed to have lost.

I have also decided to change the title of my blog…slightly. It is now Drunk on Love with the tag line In the Kitchen (and Beyond). My writing has traveled far beyond my love of baking pies. I’m on a quest for love and joy and contentment and answers, damnit. I want to be drunk on love, yet the world keeps stepping on my feeble attempts. I’m learning, though, especially through my writing, to live in grace.

I hope you join me on this journey. (If you have a favorite poem, shoot me a message. I’d love to read it.

Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance.

— Carl Sandburg

As a direct line to human feeling, empathic experience, genuine language and detail, poetry is everything that headline news is not. It takes us inside situations, helps us imagine life from more than one perspective, honors imagery and metaphor – those great tools of thought – and deepens our confidence in a meaningful world.

— Naomi Shihab Nye

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