Yesterday, I had just finished printing out a poem for my next book, when someone knocked. It was Molly, come to visit me with her dog, Silver.
I am clueless what triggered her, but the moment Silver crossed my threshold, she shot straight to my printer tray, grabbed the poem, and commenced chewing. I was stunned, and couldn’t think of a thing to say other than, “My poem!”.
But Molly, looking quite embarrassed for her dog, replied, “I’m sorry, Paul, but you see — Silver has good taste in poetry.”
Everyone’s a critic.
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Indeed! 😀
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Good taste be damned! I hope you had a copy saved, Paul.
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Fortunately, I did, Punam. The poem was a draft. I’m currently letting it sit for a while before I return to it — hopefully with ‘fresh eyes and ears’.
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Oh good! Sometimes some poems need to be looked with ‘fresh eyes and ears’!
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You’re up late, my friend! Insomnia?
Indeed, I cannot recall the last time I was unable to improve a poem of mine — if only by a little bit — after allowing it to sit for awhile. Of course, ‘awhile’ can be whatever time it takes for it to become fresh to me again. It’s odd that I don’t do it with every last poem I write.
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