January 5, 2023

BLUE BLACK INK

 

It used to come in surprise shaped two inch high bottles:

Waterman’s blue black ink. Even as a tiny kid I could get

an injection of ink from them – using the gold colored clip

on the side of’ my fountain pen. It gave me enough ink

to do my homework. It gave me enough ink to write

a 9 year old’s first poems. Where are they now? Sorry

to say, they are mostly gone. Yet I would think they were

part of my path to becoming a poet. Then there was my 3^rd

year high school English teacher – who read a  poem I

wrote out loud. Mentioning my name said, “Never ever 

write a poem again.” Everyone in the class laughed.

As a result of that comment, I didn’t write my next poem,

till I was 35. Fountain pens were almost gone. Ball point

pens were now in – usually with blue or black ink.  

At a workshop we were told to write a poem and I said

to myself, “Oh no!” Yet we had to – and then everyone

picked my poem. I often think where did all the poems I

would have written from 15 till 35 go?  Maybe they are

there in black and blue on the skin paper of my soul.

 

Reflections © Andy Costello