A while back, I promised to re-write a poem from my childhood in which I’d chosen to honour friends. I’d then promised to rewrite that poem some time within roughly the next year. Then I had to admit online that I couldn’t do it. And now I have proof why:

Dear Sweets (my husband),

This is the day that you were born.
You didn’t know I was around.
Because I was still in Heaven,
Trying to find a way to get down to the ground.

I’d written that for my husband’s birthday at one point (he’s older than me). It’s such a groaner, I had to share it with everyone.

Of course, I suppose claiming that I’ll never become a poet is like many others saying they’ll never be creative, when all of us are indeed creative. In this instance, I mean it somewhat tongue-in-cheek: Although I’d like to experiment with poetry some day again, I’ve focussed my creative efforts on longer forms of writing, as well as dancing, sewing, gardening, crafting with my kids, and I’ve even pulled out the clarinet a few times over the past few years. Poetry has eluded me for decades, yet I can sink my soul in to these other forms of creative expression.

Experimenting with numerous forms of creation can really broaden your own understanding of yourself. However, don’t feel guilty if you find that some forms work for you and others don’t.

Well, at the very least, I can say my own poetry exemplifies my own sense of humour (yes, it can get that corny sometimes). And if the point of creative expression is to express yourself, then I suppose I can count this as a success!