The Waiting Game

Everything seems to be in place for my Kickstarter project for my very first self-published writing project.  I’m hoping that the release of my poetry collection Chasing Distant Horizons will go well and generate some positive feedback.  Heck, I’d take criticism, too.  Any feedback is good feedback, right?

Ultimately, I’m just really excited about starting something that might inspire others to pick up their pens or run to their computers and create their own works, whatever they may be.  Like many English teachers, my love for reading and writing is what brought me to the profession.  I had wild fantasies of teaching a creative writing class.  While that’s been limited to the occasional short story or poetry writing project and my sponsoring of NaNoWriMo, I still feel the joy that I once did when I can sit down, read a student’s writing, and see the potential in those young words.

While creating new poems and compiling and editing old works, I looked back at my very first poem and chuckled a little.  I was so proud of that first poem.  Yes, it stemmed from a pretty traumatic moment in my own life.  Would I ever try and publish it?  Probably not.

That being said, it still holds a special place in my heart, and despite the pretentious phrasing and awkward rhyme, I will not only chuckle but smile at that first attempt and where it ultimately led me.

Whether you’re a beginner or an expert in the field of writing, always love what you do.  You may hate a particular piece of writing at the moment, but there is something behind why you wrote it.  That memory, emotion, or experience is what makes writing a fulfilling hobby.

And because I’m sure some of you are wondering about that first poem, I present it here.  Just keep my other, more recent poetry in mind when you read this one by my 17 year old self.

The Return

A memory returns,
My mind clouds
A voice from the past,
Screaming out loud.

I can see her face,
A shimmer in her eye
I can feel her torment,
As she starts to cry.

My hand reaches forward,
To bring her near
Instead she cringes,
With eyes of fear.

I pull my hand back,
Feel something rip inside
My eyes start to swell,
Like a part of me died.

Then two wings emerge,
A chill hits the air
Taloned hands creep forward,
Caressing her hair.

I scream for her,
Calling her name
Then the beast whispers,
Doing the same.

The beast then attacks,
And she screams out in pain
I run forward to save her,
But she is already slain.

I lift her in my arms,
Her death I cannot undo
I cry as I hear a whisper,
Of “I love you…”

Her body lacking life,
I nuzzle against her face
I look up for the beast,
Who had gone without a trace.

My emotions take me over,
Nothing more could I endeavor
The one place she shall lie,
Is in my heart forever.

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