> I took a poetry class at the library (bless you Denver Public Library for allowing me to indulge in my non-talents for free), apparently since my teen angst poetry reading I keep thinking there must be more angst bundled somewhere I haven’t found yet. Poetry really took on a difference meaning for me in this class – it isn’t about perfect writing or even using your thinking mind. Poetry puts words on paper, not sentences or even complete thoughts. One of our assigments was to write about where we feel censored and also a power piece. I was going to post them on here and realized how private it feels to write poems and I’m not quite ready to share them.

I’m no Emily Dickinson or Mark Twain, but I have fun. We are drawn to people and situations that have something we long for…I even almost lived on Poet’s Row. Mostly I believe we all have a poet inside and at least I know it, now.

Today I’m grateful for warm showers, large windows with which I can watch the snow, and movies.

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