To Keep, or not to Keep

Bloganuary writing prompt
Where can you reduce clutter in your life?

That is the question.

I have clutter in every aspect of my life. As a writer, I have kept short stories and novel drafts over the years. I even have the first spiral notebooks in which I wrote poems and short stories. I wrote most drafts using pen and paper because it was easier than pounding on an old manual typewriter.
I have filing cabinets and bookshelves full of binders of drafts and notes that ‘I might want to revisit.’ I do go back every 3 years or so to reread some of my favorites. Occasionally, I even tinker with one, trying to be inspired. I don’t remember ever breathing life back into any former efforts.

Old Notebooks

Another area of my life with clutter is the guest room that I call my sewing/craft room. I have been “building up my stash” since 2013 when I joined a quilt guild. Almost every week, we have fabrics sitting on our “free table.” I have found some really cool stuff on that table. Someday, I need to dig in and make a lot more quilts for charity and use that fabric up. I have cupboards full, boxes under the bed, and even some bins in the basement. Some may call that hoarding. I call it preparation.


I have way too many cookbooks. I started my own cookbook back when my kids were young. My notes are semi-organized, and most recipes have been taste-tested. My goal was to give them a cookbook when they went off on their own. The kids are in their 40s now, so I guess that plan is moot. Perhaps by the time I have great-grandchildren…

I sometimes have these days where my mindset is, “You don’t need all this stuff!” And that is true – I don’t need it. However, I may want it at some point in the future. I suppose that is why I keep it. Just in case.

An Ode…

~~~***~~~

Oh melancholy!
What bitter time we shared,
During those years of longing and dread,
You knew me well.

Oh misery!
We were best friends,
with fear and disappointment,
crumpled hopes, dark dreams,
Intertwined like one.

Oh agony!
My heart flayed open
by Cupid’s cruel arrows.
Time intervenes, and I have
survived,
The time of sorrow.

~~~***~~~

[Author’s Note: I never wrote a poem for a post before, so this is the “something completely different”.  When I was a teen I constantly wrote poems. Reading them as an adult, I found them dark and depressing. This poem is my ode to teenage angst.]