I write poetry. A few years ago, I was writing poetry right and left, and ideas and whole passages would just “come” to me–at night, when I was driving, in the shower, from just everywhere, and I took to keeping a little notebook near me where ever I was, so that I could jot things down. I didn’t have to write down the whole thing, maybe just a word or two, just so I would not lose the “thread” of what the poem should be about or where it was to go on the page, so I could work on it later.
Last night, as I was drifting off to sleep, or trying to, the beginnings of a poem came in. I could tell from my little feelings of brain tingling that it could be a good one…powerful, lots of good imagery, etc. I remember telling myself, get up, get up and write it down, but I was too tired, and since I’ve been computer blogging, I don’t keep those handy little notebooks around so much. So I didn’t write it down. I repeated it over and over, thinking I would remember it.
But I didnt’ remember. And now it’s gone.