I originally wanted to submit this for the last dVerse Poetica submission.... But I was late to the link-up because life got in my way... I still wanted to use this prompt, so I linked it up at the OLN.
Entries of all the participants can be found here.
ars Poetica - for the Open Link Night #411
In the earliest of my writing days,
Poetry was a mechanism to ease the solitude
of being the odd pencil in the box:
it was a canvas for the bubbling rage of a teenage girl
trapped in the corners of her psyche,
and a self-centered desire for validation,
a "look what they have done to me" ode—
now buried in the depths of the internet
under a pen name nobody remembers.
But I have been growing alongside my creations,
with language aimed at my central lobe,
manipulating the syntax to control the dagger
while concealing my own wounds
with some fancy words—and yes,
I handpick them myself.
I even reread the stanza five times,
rearranging the structural flesh around the spine,
trying to beautify the birth defects,
until some mysterious voice in my head says:
stop now, child...
you are smothering the poem.
There's more of my work:
If you like short stories I have them scooped up into one category (including the six-sentence stories).
The Nervous Poet at the SSC&B can be followed here.
There is also poetry.
More personal entries can be found at the Blog.
There's also the IT studies blog in Estonian and "Chaos in Spring" on YouTube, Spotify and other streaming services.
Love the way it ends… how too much editing may kill the poetry… perfection is never perfect
Thank you so much, and I think that poetry is like people, the little odd things here and there are what make it beautiful.