I have been putting together my first full length collection of poems. The problem is that as I write, I improve. Some of my old poems don’t seem suitable. They don’t fit. However, I have a strange attachment to a few of my old works. Many of them embarrass me. Many are childlike and mundane. But, this one, I sort of like. Still. I never changed it much. I didn’t edit back then. I edit like crazy now, but then, I really didn’t know what I was doing. Actually, there are very few days that I feel like I know what I am doing.
Still, I remember reading this to a friend. He looked at me as though I had just struck gold. I know this poem isn’t gold, but it was the first time that I felt I may have some potential as a poet. Did you have moments like that? Do you have old poems that aren’t particularly artistic but hold some appeal for you? Below is mine. I would love to hear more about yours.
Beloved To say that our love is strong, is not enough. Better to call the Everlasting Oak, a humble tree. Or the dove’s flight, a mere fluttering. How can a single word, while it speaks volumes, describe the depth by which your presence affects mine. The depth, far reaching, intricately entwined, rests alone. The oak is separate from the Earth, yet without the earth, the mighty tree will not grow, And as the dove commands the sky, Without the sky, in its strong opposition, its wings bear no challenge To say that we are in love is not enough. Better to hold the word close in our heart. The one we share. And call it, Beloved. Susan Ward Trestrail