|An allegory of poetry. Oh, the angst!|
You can't help but love poetry, for its beauty, its use of words, the way it touches your soul (for good or bad).
I wrote poetry when I was young. My first sale was a poem.
In honour of (Inter)National Poetry Month, go read a poem. I recommend April Is... Tumblr page. You can subscribe to their mailing list to receive one poem a day for every day in April. I've been subscribed for years. (LOVE IT!!)
Because it is April, I will attempt to write a poem before the end of the month. I'll post it when I'm done.
Meanwhile, here is a poem I wrote in 1990:
at men on earth
must have some worth.
Her Grace loves the beauty of language. But her best poetry only comes when her heart is aching, yearning, or broken. Consider this stanza of following Teenage Angst Poetry, written when she was sixteen:
Gather your blossoms and kiss them goodbye.
They fall away in splendor blown.
Say gone, gone, we are dead.
Wake me nevermore.