I made the mistake of telling my family that I had written a poem, and that I had posted it on line on a blog. I told them no one had commented, so either no one had read it, or it was really bad.
After I forced them at gun point to read it - the rest of the conversation went something like this - We didn't even get past the first line.
"Dust mote...what the heck is a dust mote."
"Dust mote, mom you have a mis-spelling, it's dust MITE."
"Ain't a dust mite a bed bug?"
"You wrote a poem about bed bugs?"
"Isn't a moat something that goes around a castle? Why the heck are you writing about a ditch full of dirt..."
When I finally finished laughing and crying, I asked them if they understood what the poem was about.
"Well duh, words on a page..."
Well - yes - but it's also about about stories, and about history, and the importance of writing down what happens before it's lost forever. It's about keeping creativity alive for the ages. It's about remembering people we have loved.
I guess if I am going to write, I'd better grow a thick skin.
I know for any introductory offer it's pretty bland and boring, maybe even juvenile, but just getting something *out* there was a pretty important milestone for me.
Even if no one reads it.
But I guess I better learn - poetry critiquing, at least in my family, is not for the faint of heart.
Poetry reviews are not for pansies!