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Poetry On the margins of the First Draft #1

Poetry fragments on a vintage-style open book background with a raven and black cat illustration. The left page reads 'On the Margins of the First Draft' and features the website name 'ofstardustandthebeasts.com' in gothic script. The right page contains handwritten reflections about love, poetry, and the soul, with ink splatters across the parchment, creating a raw, emotional, Victorian-inspired aesthetic.

The original poetry collected here was written and reshaped from my old work a few years ago.
When I opened the first draft again on my computer, I wondered — what can I do with it now?

I wanted to keep the poems.
But I also had this deep desire to add something more.
To give them a different kind of value.
A new breath.

As I started editing, I realized something:
I didn’t want to smooth them out.
I wanted to keep the rawness of the emotions intact —
the messy, unpolished margin notes, the scribbles, the feeling.

And somewhere along the way, it seems I created something entirely new.

There are 20 poems in this collection.
For some reason, years ago, I unpublished them and pulled them from the internet.
Now, I’m sharing them again — one poem per post
along with their margin notes:
the reflections, the aftermaths, the echoes.

(Authors Note)




1. the Beginning

In the dim flickering light

Of the oil lamp on my bedside table

I am

Drunken on wine,

Thoughts about him

Which intoxicates me more

I can not tell

But I grip onto a quill,

As if

Writing poetry about him

Was my only saviour




Poetry on the Margins #1 What am I even doing

I can clearly see —
that when life has been cold, dark, and cruel,
his presence alone,
in the depths of my empty, fragmented, joyless psyche,
has kept me warm.

And even if our fingers never touched,
this love —
admiration in its purest form —
has been a constant.

I was made
of Stardust
and the Beasts.

An eternal feeling of love, longing, and appreciation,
calming the storm within me —
a storm that partly I was gifted by life,
and partly I was born to endure.

Manic writing sprees,
to the extent I felt it was all an illusion,
a delusion birthed by my broken neurons,
only to understand:
the only constant in my life
has been
the very love
I have tried to outrun.

P.S.:

Dim, Flickering light
it wasn't a cheap bulb, even — it was the screen of my computer, in a dark room.

If you feel like wandering further, another poem and margin note will be here for you soon.

A vintage-style open book. The left page reads “On the margins of the First Draft” and features a raven and a cat by a candle and skulls. The right page says “Thank you for finding these words & staying for awhile. Please subscribe to be notified upon new arrivals” in a mix of elegant and handwritten fonts.

Links to more of my work:

If you like reading stories: Six-Sentence Stories, Short Stories, Romance and All That, Dead Poet

Or poetry : On the margins of the First Draft and On the Margins of the Second Draft

My band "Chaos in Spring" can be listened to on YouTubeSpotify and other streaming services.

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This blog is hosted on DreamHost (I myself use DreamPress).

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