Letter To A Poetic Medic
September 8, 2018
I want to thank you once again for your critique that saved the life of my pathetic poem, It Came From Stephen King's Brain. I am honored that you took time out of your incredibly busy schedule to examine it ( and the 34 other poems that accompanied ) under nothing short of a microscope to discover areas of improvement, not to mention reveal flaws that escaped the attention of so many others ( like that Todski69 fellow ).
How fortunate I was that we crossed paths in an extremely busy poetry forum where analytical or in other words "honest critique" was about as popular as a ham sandwich lying in the parking lot of a Texaco station under the hot sun. Seriously. I've seen heads of ego riddled writers rotate 360 degrees while projectile vomiting pea soup when critiques of their work were volunteered.
Not me. Un-huh. I don't even like pea soup. Eww.
If only I had your energy and dedication when it comes to encouraging writers of all ages to pursue not perfection, but instead the joy in their hearts as they smite anvils of wordsmithery while the iron tips of inked pens blaze red in their hot little hands. It's not that I don't try, but for a poet who deals in the art of stringing words together, I'm terribly ill equipped at commenting. Or interacting with other human beings.
You excel at both!
And have my deepest admiration. If I happen to win the $5,000 contest prize for best poem being offered by Frontier Poetry Magazine, I insist upon taking you out to dinner at a fancy steakhouse. I hope you don't mind being seen in the company of a really short man with large Hobbit feet.
Harry A. Hole