On my own…..

I recently had a long discussion online, about the fall (or not…) of poetry as an art.

The talk was mainly based around how poetry has changed, and moved from the traditional forms… and some people believe this is a bad thing… I am not one of them…

I love poetry.. I love words… I love people’s ability to use words to move me emotionally… or to convey something, better even than a photograph…and I don’t care what form those words are in, if they work.  I am excited that so many people today want to write, and that the internet has given them an outlet to express themselves… I am especially grateful to the poets of today… because you move me….. and you are keeping the art alive and encouraging others..

I don’t seem to be very good at blogging… I have started so many and they have fallen by the wayside, maybe it’s because of my paper fetish!  I find it easier to put thoughts down on paper with a pen.. as a kid and teenager I wrote heaps, keeping diaries was a ritual. I couldn’t sleep unless I had written in my diary, sometimes I had three or four!

I have always loved paper and notepads, journals, diaries, moleskines, anything I can write or doodle in. I have been making books and journals since I was 4 years old…just for the joy of it. I am totally and happily obsessed with books and paper. I love the smell and feel of them, the sight of me buying a new book (which I probably don’t need….) is akin to someone choosing a good avocado or melon…. I hold them, stroke them, smell them, weigh them in my hand….I cannot pass a row of journals or stationary without stopping to look!  I wonder if there is a proper term for this.. it’s more than bibliophilia…paperophilia?