At last the journey is over. I must admit there were several times that I thought I would fail my arduous task. Poetry would be a quick alternative to a novel I told myself. I can fit a verse in and around my daily routine.
Yet the truth was far from it. I never appreciated how long it would take sometimes to write a single line. I would stare at the page, willing the line to end itself, getting tired of the same rhymes, replacing the word for another, only to change it back again. It wasn't uncommon for me to spend fifteen to twenty minutes on a single verse. I felt very unproductive at times.
The final few chapters were supposed to be easy. I knew the story line. It should have been the triumphant run to the end. Yet in my quest to explain everything, to tie up every loose end. I lost the cohesion I had desired and in the final few days of writing I almost quit.
Yet the final line played over and over in my head. It isn't particularly memorable, but it is the one line that I got the most satisfaction from writing. As time has progressed I found myself falling further and further out of love with my style. In the beginning there were verses I was particularly proud of. Yet over time, this waned and I felt that the quality had not been all that I had hoped it would be.
However, almost inevitably, when revisiting a verse or a line again weeks later, I found that same joy I had experienced when writing it. Though I am a rank amateur in the field of poetry at best, my humble attempt to write something poetic that is exciting and accessible is something I hope will still be enjoyed by some.
I hope you enjoy reading, as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Peter Savage June 2019