Poetry

"Poetry is a packsack of invisible keepsakes." -- Carl Sandburg

I submitted three poems to a local literary contest. It's been a long, long time since I've submitted anything for competition. I'm not sure how polished they are. I wish more than I can say that I still had a mentor to help me revise. My college creative writing teacher was amazing. Everyone probably thinks theirs was wonderful, but this professor didn't pull any punches, and he helped me burn away the dross.

It's a local contest, and most of the things I've written are NOT local material, so they might go over like the proverbial lead balloon. I don't know. I'll throw them out and see if they survive.

I haven't written anything new since I left Japan. I have often thought that poetry has to live on pain, and I decided a long time ago that I'd rather be happier than a great poet. I'm not going to chase the knife's blade to fill my bottle with heart's blood ink.

Still, I have ideas in my head, and I need to channel them. Maybe this will revive the juices. My best poems are about my travels. For some reason, I draw a lot of inspiration from the places I go. I guess the travel poems become the souvenirs I'll never break, sell, or give away.

I have to keep it short tonight because I'm so tired. Maybe there will be more tomorrow.