My First Published Poem
My first poem in print — a joy, a thrill,
My first great anger, sharp and clear,
This ire struck and lingers still.
Such pains to see what once was dear,
My poem writ in elementary—
“Friend” stood alone, no “s” in sight,
An editorial fool’s decree,
A careless cut that stole my right.
Such vanity! Yet can’t they see?
There was more to my poetry!
No human face my soul pursued —
The friends my young heart held so tight,
Not one, but many, bright and true.
Erased in ink, reduced to slight.
To edit my words, such vanity!
An editor’s hand, so quick and small,
The ink betrayed what soul had penned—
failed to see my friends at all—
And left me grieving one lost friend—
limiting my creativity.
They missed the truth, ignored my call —
The secret bonds I longed to keep—
My “friends” were never one at all.
Sun, wind, and the fish that swam deep,
all alive, all friends to me, you see?

Leave a comment