Celebrating National Poetry Month 2026 Part 3

Ever since I was a child, I loved poetry, and this interest continued into college. At the university, I studied a variety of literature and took a poetry writing class. I wanted to enroll in the next poetry writing class that happened to be organized and run by a prominent poet who was published in a host of anthologies.

For students to gain entry into the class, the renowned poet had to accept the samples each student submitted. I turned in my poetry samples, but she rejected me. But it wasn’t the rejection that hurt me; it was her words. She said in her brief note that accompanied my returned samples that I was not welcome into her course because I had no poetic talent.

I don’t remember how good or not-so-good my poems were at that time. But I remembered her stinging words. Luckily, her cruelty didn’t stop me from continuing to love and to write poetry.

This interaction – or, actually, non-interaction – affected me profoundly. When I eventually became an English teacher at a local university, I made sure not to use harsh criticism, but constructive feedback, which included praise for what worked well in essays. I would not tear students down, but I tried to build them up.

Turns out, I had a lot in common with my students, as many of them endured harsh criticism at the hands of a teacher.

Art

I started a new painting, which centers on trees and other plants around a lake.

Right now a lot of space contains blue, but my plan is to create an interesting foreground that will lay over a good portion of the lake. The foreground might have cattails and a tree in full foliage. This painting is in early fall, so there will be a couple of trees with some reddish color. Or maybe I will find it more interesting to create a full fall landscape. Whichever time period takes place in this painting, I’m hoping to create a reflection of the trees across the lake. I was playing with brushstrokes and got ahead of myself by experimenting with shadows in the foreground.

Now for the ballerina painting that I’ve already titled First-Year Ballerina.

I’ve been working hard on reworking her face and skin. For now – and please don’t be scared, dear readers – she just has the white of her eyes showing. Eventually the irises will be there. I promise.

I moved her ear down so it’s more proportional to where an ear should be, and as you can see, I’m making her ponytails shorter. I am also working on getting her facial features to look more like that of the little girl she was, so her cheeks will be more full. Her nose and mouth will eventually be added. I need to add pinks and purples to her skin tone, too. I see improvement, especially in the shadows near her neck, but the changes are gradual.

Still, I’m enjoying the process. And, as we all know, that’s what matters!

And here’s a poem:

First-Year Ballerina
My joy –
watching you
admire your fancy finery.
You’re feeling mighty and proud –
first sequins, first dazzle –
dance steps be damned,
for it’s all about the show.
My precious daughter,
this precious Kodak moment,
cannot capture my dreams for you.
They don’t include sequins.
I dream you define who you are,
who you will be.
You are so worthy of love.
Self-love, first, that is.
This is your birthright.