I Don't Write Poems A Lot But We're Gonna Try Again

So I got the notes from my writer's group back . . .

Damn!

Are they trying to get me to quit,

or are they trying to encourage me to improve,

because right now those two things feel the same.

They say when you get older you get wiser

So I think somehow I falsely convinced myself

that that meant the more I wrote,

the better my first drafts would get;

When in reality all first drafts are supposed to suck

No matter how old the writer is.

They suck because I'm the type of writer who can't plan

I like surprise, I like not knowing what's gonna happen

until it does,

I love the thrill of it all;

But not knowing or planning means a messy start

It means having to construct it in the end.

When people read my mess, I hate it

Because they may think I'm a horrible writer.

Their critiques pack a punch,

My people pleasing self gives them critiques,

but my words are plastic swords, not

metal ones like theirs . . .

I like to think I've developed a thick skin,

And I have

I just hate seeing a project that means so much to me

Bullied—

It's like going back in the past

And have to watch your younger self

get bullied

from an outside view

And you can't do anything about it.

I know writing is all about critiques,

I know that,

but it doesn't make it any easier.