A Poetic Journey Down Memory Lane

Last night I found myself, or more appropriately lost myself, looking through an old poetry journal.  I started writing poetry when I was maybe 10 or 11.  There was a threesome of good climbing trees in the far corner of our backyard and one in particular had a nice solid branch that I would perch on for hours and daydream and write poetry.  I have kept some of those poems and a “book of poetry” I created for a school assignment.  I continued to dabble in poetry until my mid-teens when my focus shifted.  Then in my late twenties, seriously in need of a creative outlet, I picked up my pen and started to write poetry again.  Instead of a tree perch, it was a chair looking out at my backyard that became my favorite writing spot.  For several years I wrote regularly and even had a few poems published.  Eventually though, the smell of baby powder and dirty diapers lured me in another direction and my poetry writing has been gathering dust.  One thing I noticed looking back at my collection of writing is how many of my poems were inspired by nature.  Maybe the nature theme was partly due to where I did most of writing, with views of my yard, but I have always been drawn to being outdoors and contemplating the beauty of the natural world.  This is why I like running, riding my bike and gardening so much, I need my daily dose of nature.

Poetry can be a highly personal writing outlet and great therapy.  For instance, you can learn a great deal about what is going on in a child’s life or check in on their emotional register  just by reading their poetry.  For this reason I won’t be sharing any poetry that I wrote during those boy crazy teen years as it is filled with sappy reflections on “love”.  (don’t really know why I kept those)  What I will share is something I wrote about nature.  It was published in a poetry anthology in the early 90’s.  I’m feeling inspired now, especially after my jog through the valley today.  I just may have another bout of poetry coming on.


The Storm

Gentle breezes turn to gusty gales,

Churning the skies;

Gathering clouds dark and ominous.

Flashes of light charge the air,

Boasting of power with thunderous booms.

Sweet, the beads of moisture fill the air.

Trickling, now surging, pummeling,

Wind and water casting nature’s wrath.

Rivers flow in once dry gullies.

Trees sway, leaves battered and blossoms torn.

Calamitous forces make swift their departure.

Raging winds turn to quiet breezes.

Rays of sunlight pierce the gloom,

Casting rainbows, linking sky to earth.

An offering, renewing nature’s harmony.