This was the first poem I ever published. I wrote it my freshman year in high school for a poetry project for my english class. I had to make a poetry notebook with like 10 of them written by myself and of course I procrastinated so the day before it was due, I hit the paper hard to throw together some poems. As I got towards the end, I couldn't think of anything anymore and then I started playing with the idea that I couldn't write a poem. That is how I came up with it so I wrote it, turned it in and it ended up being the winning poem for the class. My teacher selected it to represent our class in the school's freshman poetry contest. (I don't remember if it won or not) Soon after that, I submitted it to a national poetry contest and won an honorable mention and a request to publish in a poetry text. I was given the opportunity to present it at a national poetry convention where the winner would win a $25,000 scholarship. Unfortunately, the convention was in a different state so I was not able to attend it but I did approve it to be published. Somewhere, perhaps lost in all my old packed away items, is the volume information for the book it is published in and the certificate of publication but as I was only 14 years old, I never took great care of anything like that so it could just as well have been thrown in the trash years ago. :( I took a lot of pride in this poem though because I have also used it to win 2 other contests over the years as well. It is also the only one of my published poems that I still have and that is only because it was short enough that I managed to memorize it. Most of my poems are stories, some over a page long so this is the only one I have ever memorized. I have 4 others that have also been published but they are long lost and never to be remembered. Hopefully one day I will come across the notebook with the paperwork for them in it so I can find them once again.
But for now, here is "Poem is a Poem"
I know not what to write of,
I know not what to feel
For all the things I think of
Seem to be unreal.
To write a silly poem
About a breezy beach,
Flowers in a meadow,
Or stars out of my reach...
When I think of all these things
Not one provokes a thought.
So I will not write a poem
Though I know I really ought.
