A peek at the REAL Thumbster

"The Kidnapped Dreams Of Angels"

"The Kidnapped Dreams Of Angels" was the first line from the first poem I ever wrote...(Feb. 2002)

I had attempted a "poem" years before but it doesn't count as my "first offical" poem because this is MY journal, MY story and I AM A KING who's word cannot be questioned...if no where else but here.

The first line from the second poem just doesn't have the same impact...the 8th line from the 35th poem has absolutely no impact at all...Ummmmmm...I've forgotten the point I was trying to make...Oh yeah...picking poems apart to bolster my feelings of self importance...NO...that can't be what I meant to do...Where was I going with this?

This time last year, I wasn't interested in reading poems, let alone writing them. "Real men" weren't interested in poetry.

I wrote my first poem as a joke in just a matter of minutes with whatever popped into my head...kinda like how I write them still. With my second poem I decided to put more effort into it. I revised and revised every single word, writing all night and into the next morning...That was WAY too much effort for a lazy beggar like myself...especially on a poem...but I was pleased with how it turned out, so I went on writing poems in secret...a secret poem writer...there's an idea for a poem there...That's the thing about poems...a word or a phrase, a leaf falling or a dog barking...everything becomes an idea for a poem. I started waking up at 4:00 AM, lying in bed thinking "Now that would make a good poem"...I had it bad...Other parts...make that every other part of my life started to suffer. If I had become addicted to making wooden lawn ornaments than maybe I could have made a few dollars out of my obsession...or if I had become addicted to raising and breeding gerbils...anything but poetry...I might as well have become addicted to giving clouds names.

All this time I was writing at Poetry.com, submitting poem after poem, with no feedback or contact with anyone. I started experimenting with my writing...which was easy for me as I had no formal training with the "rules" of poetry. I quickly found out when I had "gone too far"...YES, Poetry.com does reject poems...at least they used to with me...and there wasn't any profanity or suggestive language either.

I found other poetry sites and started posting but recieved little or no feedback until I found "Your Poetry Dot Com" where the folks were very supportive and freindly...but this only encouraged my addiction as now I was also reading and commenting on other's poetry. I started writing crap just because I had to have something posted every day. That site crashed for a few weeks but just before it did I had already realized that writing poetry was taking me no where...I found editors view poetry like spam..."poetry not accepted". So I came here where I love the freedom to write stories...only instead of being addicted to writing poems, now I'm addicted to all kinds of writing.

Why couldn't I have become addicted to playing the guitar?...or beekeeping?...or making garden gnomes?