Reworked Dreams

Starving
Drunken Corpses
Wandering shadows of men

I see you staring at yesterday
Streaks of obsession mold you
Leave you old - dead words

Your belonging is gone
Now imagined
A past dream

Today,  a gray face
Slashed fingers grasping
The coin has rolled away

Scabbed hearts
And flaccid minds
Are all that caress you now

Tomorrow
What means Tomorrow
-Heaven in a grave cold.

     ^^^
This poem was written many years ago. Re-reading it now, I would perhaps move words around, change them up or maybe even scrap it altogether. It was actually even a re-writing of another older poem that I had written entitled Tomorrow. I don't have the date on Tomorrow (I tended to put dates on poems even then with dreams of the legacy I would leave), but I believe it was written in 1992. Reworked Dreams was written in April, 1995.

I highlight it here today, as this was the first poem I had published. For me it was so exciting at the time. I guess it still is, although I have since read that the tome that it was published in was nothing more than a sham. I was young and goggle-eyed with thoughts of seeing my name in the printed form, and bought into their "competition". The National Library of Poetry seemed to publish everything that was sent to them though (regardless of merit I have since read), but the kicker was the buying of the book that it would appear in. Of course I bought a copy of Shadows and Light. I even got a notification that I was in the top 3% of entries, therefore receiving an Editor's Choice award. Wow!

The burst bubble didn't hurt that bad though. While it is disappointing that there wasn't any teeth behind their competitions, that amounted to nothing more than book promotions, the experience stayed with me. It helped to push me and keep me writing. I have a little book that has my poems in it written since as far back as 1991. I can see progression in my writing, but even better, can see that my muse has been with me for a long time. I still might not become a big, famous poet, but I can look back with pride in my will to create. For that is the heart of writing in my books.

I want to thank One Stop Poetry for the prompt today. They suggested telling them where we began our poetry career. I suspect that the stories of the myriad of poets that are out there hold some fascinating reading in themselves. My story started in my teens, but has carried through the years with encouragement from occasional writing contests, well-received poems for friends and family in greeting cards, my own personal drive to get the words running through my head down on paper, and of course my blog. It might not wow anybody, but getting this poem published was another huge affirmation for me that this was what I wanted to do. And I am doing it.