I once pushed myself to write a poem for every day of the year.
Many were forced, obviously. Sometimes I had to write a few at once to make up for the days I wasn’t able to write. But I did it anyway.
Most of them weren’t good.
Some might have a hidden potential. (Maybe.)
I also have notebooks and computer files full of short stories and half-finished longer ones – although I think most of those are even worse than the poems.
Some (most) pieces are better left unread – by anyone.
Some (maybe a few) aren’t so bad.
They might actually be good beginnings –
or middles… (I think.)
Some could be bigger
if I had the time
and didn’t have to think about trivial things
like sleep
work
lunch
laundry.
Maybe I am bound to poems or short stories.
And maybe that’s okay.
Even if no one reads,
I am writing –
actively working
refining
improving (hopefully).
And definitely learning.