On being a poet

I wish I remembered when I first wrote a poem. I always tend to say that I wrote them the moment I knew how to write because in essence that is the truth. I had a binder (alas lost in a teenage act of “I hate poetry and mine especially sucks”-rage) where I scribbled my poetry.

Then one day, I was 10 or 11 years old, I wrote a poem that I was really proud of. I showed it to my mother and she praised me. She encouraged me to show it to my teacher.

I put the poem in my bag and was a ball of nerves all day. Then I finally got the courage. I held the paper in my trembling hand and practically pushed it at my teacher.

He read it, smiled and patted my shoulder. He then said the magical words “This should be in the school newspaper!”

I still remember the sense of pride seeing my poem in the newspaper. I still have that, thanks to my mom saving it for me until I was past the angry teen phase 🙂

The funny thing is that I always wanted to write stories too. I was afraid to let all those ideas out of my head, afraid to be laughed at and ridiculed. Poetry was safe, and I still am proud of the few poems I did manage save from my childhood days.

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