I was doing some pondering of late and I happened to walk by a puddle and I dropped my scrap notebook.  Safe to say a large collection of my musings was lost, nothing major mind you, just a few poems and short stories I scratched out during my time at work.  I work as a ticket salesmen on weekends for a trolley tour in Salem, MA. Exciting I know, but its part time while I attend school.

Anyways for a moment I just stood there shocked you know?  Have you ever had one of those moments where you just freeze up?  You know you can act fast and repair the problem with a quick action but fail to do so and sit by jaw hung low staring at the scene?

Well….yeah.  I watched my notebook sink into oblivion and then later watched a Trolley, carrying what I am sure to be Salem’s finest tourists, trample over it.

But what was lost? Nothing I needed for school, nothing that was a final draft ready for publication, nothing that I worked and sweat and bled for.  No, there wasnt a single ounce of hard work involved in that notebook, so why was I so aggrieved and agitated one my ask.

The thing is after much perplexity, much consideration, and ample thought towards what that book meant to me, I came to a sudden conclusion, my own holy grail of epiphanies if you will.

I wrote that book solely for me.  It was a collection of thoughts I never intended to edit or revise. That poetry was pure.  Poetry is meant to be that way, perhaps poetry has no need of revision or reworking.  I feel as though after constant change and editing the piece loses the robust beauty that it once had. There no longer remains the feeling of fresh emotion on paper or typed up in the way it originally was intended to be.

Perhaps I am wrong, but my gut tells me I am correct.

My best writing, perchance not grammatically correct or easily readable, is done in its draft stage, for in my draft stage I am most honest with myself and there isnt a second thought.  My pen flows free and my words confess my inner beliefs.

Clarity is just a vassal, a servant used by others to explain things to those that did not share the emotions expressed.  Poetry is owned by no one, that is to say it is not the property of the writer or the reader, once penned it is open to interpretation, but interpretation in its purest form alone, will reveal its true message.

There is no such thing as bad poetry when it is written from the heart, all views are irrelevant.  If your verse touches one person then the poem is not a failure, and if you wrote it for yourself, it was an expression of your own inner feelings.  Thats all that matters- you touched yourself (raunchy, I know!).

- B.A.M