Rhymes With

Sometimes I Write Poetry

Sometimes I write poems. Not really. One time I took a poetry class and that poem, an ode to be exact, was published in an art and literary magazine. A few of you were asking to read that poem. Here it is!

Ode to Boots

My grandma gave me a pair of boots

chosen by herself especially for me.

Two durable covers smooth

as saddles.

The mustard colored leather

keeps a firm grip

on the ground.

They promise to carry me anywhere.

I showcase the gift the way

I imagine Cinderella modeled her

glass slippers.

My boots appoint me

a royal adventurist.

With wool socks,

my feet become two durable vehicles

with the power to bring me to

any destination my heart

so desires.

They smell of asphalt and dirt,

of course gravel ad dark mulch.

Sweet grass and dust.

They have danced down

empty hallways and bustling stairwells.

Kicked dead leaves and hopped puddles.

Many steps are left in their lifetime.

All I know is where I have been,

not how far I will go.

The path ahead remains a mystery.

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Writing

Writing Is Hard

Writing is hard.

Every writer has this defining point in their writing journey where they ask themselves the questions:

 “Why am I writing?” “Is it all worth it?” “Who should I write for?” “Should I write for high stats, or what’s on my heart?”

I’ve been blogging for a year. I haven’t even reached 2,000 views. I’m pretty sure I get the most views when my mom shares my posts on her Facebook page. My fan-base is limited. (I’m not sure it even qualifies as a fan-base). I’ve signed up for about every suggested social media site one could think of. And, consequently, I haven’t seen much change in my stats.

I continue writing. If I don’t write, I feel as if part of me is missing. Still, it’d be nice for a complete stranger who is more successful than I have been to recognize my work. There is no denying that wishful thinking.

I hate sounding cliche, but no great thing comes easily. Good things come with hours, weeks, even years of hard work.  That’s what I missed when I first began my journey. I missed the tears, the calloused fingers, the rejections, the failed attempts. The ceremonious burning of drafts. The promise to get up, leave, and never write another word. Those are defining moments in any artist’s life. The rise to fame hardly compares to the time spent laboring to arrive at that point.

So if it’s not easy, why do it? I’ll tell you why. Because that one person who is impacted by your writing, makes up for the lack of viewers, the low stats, the rejection letters.

One of my Twitter followers responded to my post stepping away for awhile with these words: “You shine.” Folks, that’s why I keep writing.

If you write for numbers, there’s good chance you might not write anything great at all.

Keep at it.

-Kayla

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