The rough journey of a would-be poet who is still to experience that elusive "fifteen minutes of fame".

I always make the first verse well, but I have trouble making the others.
---Moliere (1659)

My first published poem was a patriotic piece of blank verse called *Song of Liberty*. Because of it I won three guineas in a literary competition for the best article, short story or poem. No editorial comment, just "Congratulations Patrick and here's your winning poem." I wrote it because I WANTED to write, not for the kudos or kaboodle.
The year was 1940 and the publication was a Sydney college magazine called *The Waverlian*.

My next real effort to get published occurred some years later. I submitted a poem to one of Australia's iconic magazines. It had an interesting history of having published the first works of poets who later achieved (at least) national fame; people such as Kenneth Slessor; and the "bush balladists" such as Banjo Patterson (*The Man From Snowy River*, *Clancy of the Overflow*, *Waltzing Matilda* etc.) and Henry Lawson (*The Faces in the Street" and lots of others. He also wrote many short stories that drew international acclaim). The magazine (The Bulletin) is still going strong, but its format and focus have changed.

The poem was titled *The Nobler Part* and dripped with idealism as it dealt with the issue of humans having a nobler part despite all the imperfections of the human race.

They declined to publish it. The editor, however, did give me some sobering feedback: "The noblest part of The Nobler Part was the final full stop."

After that (and a few more similar ones) the poisoned shafts of criticism lighted on a heart made callous by many blows.(Thank you, Mr Shelley.)

Nowadays, I find that my ego is not very fragile (though its still normal size for a man of my advanced years!). Consequently, whenever I get criticism that even TOUCHES on personality rather than poem I consider that the critic is arrogant and needs to be slapped down (again and again) until he/she finally comes good with objective analysis and constructive criticism. Of course, I am always open to the argument that my piece would never become a good poem and should be consigned to the Waste Paper Basket -provided the argument is backed up with evidence from the text itself.

Now, I have found that the work I have posted on various sites has been read and criticised in (mainly) constructive ways by people who, through their gentle yet honest approach to criticism, have been of immense assistance to me. In these cases I am always able to do a Robbie Burns and see myself as others see me. Therefore, I have appreciated many critiques received since I commenced to use the internet about a year ago.

However, just recently I got three critiques" to which I objected due to the "playing the man" high falutin' tone in which they were written. It got my Irish blood running like lava!

As a result I noted the parts containing helpful suggestions and proceeded to post rejoinders aimed at influencing (if possible) a re-think of their attitudes (not of their criticism).

This involved a long on line debate during which I was accused of "whining". I very smartly posted a considered argument along the following lines: writers have the right to expect a critic to analyse their work objectively, to give constructive criticism on the basis of that analysis and, finally, to offer suggestions for improvement which flow from that analysis. In other words, no smartass personal denigration designed to diaplay the critic's intellectual primacy.

All except one of them softened their original style and came up with very helpful feedback which I added to my notes for revision purposes. WE are now on good terms and I feel confident that I have learnt and will learn a lot from this experience.

The moral of my story is that I am not frightened of criticism (in fact, I sincerely welcome it with enthusiasm), but I will not suffer arrogance from people who consider themselves to be above giving honest criticism in a gentle tone in case it should stroke a "fragile ego" or two.

Who are such people, anyway? I love the poems of Dylan Thomas, Gerard Manley Hoplins, Ted Hughes, Sylvia Plath, Robert Browning, Elizabeth Barrett Browning et al. I have yet to find the "critics" to whom I refer being invited to join the exalted ranks of the poets I have mentioned. Maybe Oscar Wilde got it right when, way back in 1891, he wrote: "It is exactly because a man cannot do a thing that he is the proper judge of it." But "a proper judge" is always expected to be objective and impartial, inter alia...and that's my point!

Nevertheless, there have been others (I would say, in the majority) who have given me honest, forthright critiques accompanied by helpful suggestions. The need for really hard work has always begun at that point. Will I accept the suggestions and thereby hack my creative offspring to death? Or, will I consider them carefully and go about revisions which, in most cases, are likely to involve a dozen drafts or more?

Generally speaking I have adopted the latter course and have always had to admit thankfully that the final drafts, though not “deathless poesy”, have certainly been definite improvements on the originals.

I know that I have learnt from these experiences (for which I thank my voluntary mentors). I will also, when appropriate, try out my own critical tools on the work of other writers from time to time. This will be done in the hope that I might assist and encourage people who, like me, are struggling to deserve the honourable description of "poet".

Well I started with a quote from Moliere; let me conclude with one from Horace:

"To poets to be second-rate is a privilege which neither men, nor gods, nor bookstalls ever allowed." (*Ars Poetica*)