Poetry

If push came to shove, I’d have to admit that I consider myself a poet more than a novelist, but that could be due to the fact that I’ve published more poetry. There is something exhilarating about poetry. It is a condensed, pure form of language. It has the ability to strike an arrow through the heart with just a few well placed words. It is this- honing – the process of poetry- that ignites me! So while I enjoy writing longer stories poetry, if not my first love, is at least the most requited.

My first poem was published in an anthology before the advent of click-bait, but that’s essentially what it boiled down to. I found the small advertisement for getting your poetry published in the Sparrowgrass Poetry forum annual publication at the back of some magazine or another and promptly submitted what I considered my masterpiece. (A ryming couplet poem about the 100 years war… it was terrible.) I received word by post that they were interested in publishing my poem a few weeks later and was ELATED! I am pretty sure I told everyone and cartwheels may or may not have been involved. All I, the poet, needed to do was send my $54.95 by check or money order to the listed address to receive a copy of the anthology.  As a starving poet of the middle schooler variety I did not have access to such funds so I begged my parents. Of course they gladly paid after I convinced them that this was essential for my ‘self actualization’ (incidentally I also convinced my mother to take me to the East Coast for research for one of my novels- they were unbearably supportive of my dreams).

The long awaited day finally arrived and the tome of poetry was delivered to my door by the mail carrier as it was far too big to fit in the box. I eagerly tore at the cardboard sleeve and ran my hands over the fabric hard cover of the book, embossed with a sparrow. (I’m not saying it was a scam- the book was top notch- I was published as advertised and it was good quality binding and everything.) The thing that gave me pause was the sheer number of poems selected.  I flipped to the table of contents, found my name and the page number. (Honestly the sight of my name in ink on a bound page still gives me a shiver of delight- but I digress…) I turned to my poem, read it to myself, read it outloud to my family and was determined to bring the massive book to school the next day to show off to my friends and English teachers. It was only then I began to peruse the other poems in the book. They ranged from beautiful to downright weird, but what offended my delicate prepubescent sensibilities the most was that my poem faced a poem titled Green. The poem, in a nutshell, read; “Green is the color of grass. I like green. ” by Billy aged 6.

It occured to me that maybe, just maybe, my poem was not selected based on it’s literary merit at all. That perhaps this business transaction left my parents $54.95 poorer. I don’t really do math, but I knew that if every poet in this book bought a copy Sparrowgrass was making some serious bank.

My  talents as a poet improved and I have been published may more times by much more reputable places.

My latest published poem is here, if you’re interested!

From time to time I’ll post a little something I’ve written in the past, and let you be the judge of if I have grown at all! 😀

Cheers!

Kelly