I never set out to intentionally create a poetry journal. It just happened. It all started when I went on a scouting trip to the OBX when I was a kid. We’d been studying poetry in school, but I didn’t have a love for it or anything. But something happened to me there on that trip that changed me forever. Maybe it was the waves crashing on the shore, the salt in the air or how the seagulls sang but the ocean called to me, touched my soul. I answered that call by writing a poem. I let the inspiration take me where it wanted, and soon my poetry turned into a sort of diary or journal. It allowed me to explore my feelings and thoughts, my hopes and dreams and wrestle with life’s highs and lows.
Perhaps as a mirror of myself, my poetry journal grew and changed over the years. It started out as a waterlogged carmine spiral notebook with watercolor pages and ink runs. The pages eventually tore away, and I moved my poems in a shoebox where it continued to collect more folded up loose-leaf and scrap paper poems. When the overstuffed box couldn’t hold anymore, I transitioned my poems into a 3-inch purple Mead zip-up binder with plastic sheet protectors. At some point over the years, even that binder gave way and I finally moved everything over to a digital format. I still write my poems by hand, but they always get typed up afterwards.
If reading that sort of thing interests you, you can read my poetry journals below: