What I Wish I Knew Before Becoming a Poet

I still would have written that first word, first line, first stanza

Image by 育银 戚 from Pixabay

Collins has been called "The most popular poet in America" by the New York Times. When he moved from the University of Pittsburgh Press to Random House, the advance he received shocked the poetry world—a six-figure sum for a three-book deal, virtually unheard of in poetry. Wikipedia

Of course, I knew
it’d take a miracle
to earn a living writing
poetry, unless 
I got a foot in the door 
at Hallmark or Random House.

Of course, I knew
poetry 
is not prose julienned 
on a page
like zucchini on a platter.

And, of course, of course, of course, 
I knew
more minds are closed 
to poetry
than open.

What I didn’t know is 
poetry is reefer madness. 
One toke, one indrawn attempt,
and I’d be lost, 
reborn a wild child 
compelled, propelled – even now, 
when I am old – to dive naked 
off ever-higher cliffs
into ever more turbulent waters.

Seeking pearls to polish
then string into necklaces
aglimmer for you.
My Murano-beaded heart, broken  
before I lift my arms, tuck my chin, lean, plunge.
Confidence in shards, 
hope blown 
into translucent rainbow-colored birds 
refusing to fly.

Even as addicted I remain,
determined to attain 
the impossible – 
perfection.

Thank you, team at Scribe -

Thomas Gaudex

&

Louise Foerster

- for the perfect home for this pondering about living life as a poet.

Thank you, dearest readers. Love

Also feel free to check out my new prose Substack, A Septuagenarian Sings.