“A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness.” ~ Robert Frost
I write things. Sometimes creative, sometimes mundane, but always an expression of wherever I find my overactive brain at the moment. One thing I love to do is poetry, though I don’t often know what to do with it.
WIP (a working title) is writer shorthand for “work in progress.” This is an experiment in words, a peek into my notes. Simply poems, some finished, many not. My natural inclination is to add commentary and context, but here, I’m just going to turn them loose to the wilds of the Internet, with no explanations or apologies.
Maybe if I start sharing these things and stop worrying if people will like them, then maybe I’ll feel inclined to do more of this creative writing thing.