“Revision”

If there’s a word or line you fondly think
Your fledgling poem cannot live without,
Some turn of phrase you could not bear to cut,
Then steel yourself and cut it nonetheless
(And save it in your archives if you must);
‘Tis nearly certain that your heart was wrong,
And fond affection did your verse no good,
So cruel pruning must have strengthened it.
Many an author loves the book she writes
Almost as though it were her child—but, then,
For a much-cherished child to be indulged
And neither disciplined nor ever checked,
Such treatment is as harmful as abuse
And does the child no favors at adulthood.
So too, O poet, take the higher view
Developing your work with balanced growth
Till you present the world a seamless whole.

I began this poem in August of 2016, probably after a discussion on the Holy Worlds writing forum, made a slight revision in early 2018, and then finally sat down and worked out a fitting conclusion a little over a year ago. (The central idea is one that is often repeated, one might even say proverbial, in books about the craft of writing, though I only recently discovered that the pithiest expression of it I often hear ought to be attributed to one Arthur Quiller-Couch; this poem is but my attempt to frame that idea into a less concise and more poetical form.)

I always welcome your comments, questions, or other feedback about this or any other part of my work. If you’d like to read more of my poetry, you can get my book, which contains over sixty of my best poems; browse my archive, much of it also broken down into more-manageable groups; or follow this blog for new poetry (among other things)—at least two poems per month through December. You may also share this poem with others, subject to my sharing policy.