I used to write a lot of poems. I even dreamt of putting together a poetry anthology for my undergrad thesis. But since I had completed my creative nonfiction courses first, I decided to just focus on that genre. According to a professor, it might be difficult to write a thesis on a genre that I wasn’t done learning about yet.
Then I began to drift apart from poetry after graduation. I don’t remember how or why exactly. Now, whenever someone asks me why I don’t write poems anymore, I just laugh and say that it’s just not for me.
Although, I have to admit, I sometimes miss the old days. I long for my younger self who was just so positive about writing poems and unafraid to share her work with the rest of the world. And, whenever I do, I check my old notebooks and folders for old verses. Of course I find a lot of pretentious stuff in them, as well some overly dramatic pseudo poems obviously created during moments of extreme vulnerability. They always make me cringe.
Yet they sometimes make me smile, too. They may not be excellent verses, but I know that when I wrote them, they provided me an avenue to release my emotions. Not so bad, perhaps.
Anyway, to give you an idea, here’s something I found among my old notes:
When you’re a worrier,
the whole forward-thinking thing
seems to make a lot of sense.
Just when the gurus begin to explain
the art of anticipating things
that might happen,
you are already done preparing
for twenty or more versions
of the future that has yet to come.
And so you over-prepare, just in case:
you pack sixteen shirts
for an eight-day trip;
you buy a month’s worth of groceries
for a one-week stay at home;
you purchase lots of stuff you don’t need yet,
because better be ready than sorry.
Even your life
has already been planned
down to the littlest of details, in case
plan A fails, fret not;
there are still plans B through Z,
A2 through Z2 and so on…
(And you don’t mind keeping track
of all of them in an Excel sheet you sync
with your phones, both main and backup.)
Every day, you say,
worrying is the easiest thing
about living. You prepare
yourself for the worst
and multiple iterations of it
can shock you anymore.
Or maybe not, because
anything may happen.
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