My very first poetry experience

I would love to claim that my first poetry experience is recorded in vivid detail, with the scent of the day hanging onto the flashback like the remindful smell of stale cigarettes on a school blazer but, it is not so.

What I do recall thought, is that I was in primary school when I had my first recollect-able experience.

To be honest, I forgot about the poem for a number of years but, when I gravitated around the written word later in my high school career, it was the very first poem that I actively searched for.

“My luve is like a red red rose

So sprung in June.

My luve is like the melody

So sweetly sung in tune.

…”

- © My luve’s like a red red rose by Robert Burns

I found out later that Robert Burns was of Scottish descent and that this particular poem was in fact a song. I think.
I still relate to that poem to this day.

I guess as a serial-romantic (not my words), I am bound to fall for the soppy sounding sounds of a romanticizing, kilt-wearing Scotsman.

“These scars

Bear the truth of history.

They are a reminder of my memories

As they draw from me.

These scars are my loves.

…

These scars

Are a first encounter

With

Love.”

- © My Scars (2007) – an extract

And again, another morbid take on love.

Namaste.