Technically I am a published author.
But having a poetry book self-published so you can avoid losing it again later in life probably doesn’t really count for much. Having a collection of poems written by the students whom you taught poetry to published with the same self-publishing, print-on-demand company doesn’t really mean much either.
The thing is, poetry is not only about words. It’s about baring some strong emotion you are feeling completely. Leaving it all on the page. Then a reader, someone feeling that same thing, will pick it up and connect in a way no one else will ever connect with it. People who aren’t feeling it, haven’t felt it, or won’t ever feel it won’t get it. It’s not an art everyone will appreciate.
Since publishing my last poetry book (the one with the kiddos) in 2011, I haven’t written much poetry. I’ve focused my attention on stories, short or otherwise. Yesterday I was working on something crazy with my fantasy story (trying it from another point of view because I couldn’t help myself) and I had the idea that one of the characters would probably write poetry. I can’t shake this idea. So I’m getting in his head and writing a poem. Enjoy.
There is a Monster in my Realm.
He wants to feed on joy
until there is none remaining.
There is a Monster in my Home.
He wants me to see
the misery I have closed my eyes to.
He wants me to revenge
the wrongs that I have witnessed.
Destroy
the evil I find.
There is a Monster inside me.
His rage is becoming my rage,
his rants are making sense.
I am seeing the people around me for what they truly are.
The Monster may win