Part 1

I am 19 years old, a poet, a dancer, an avid reader, an experimental cook and baker, as well as a nursing student.

I cannot specifically remember when I started writing poetry. I have been rhyming and writing since I was a tiny little Homo Sapien. However, I can name without a doubt the first poem that I read which sparked the passion for reading as well as writing this beautiful art form: 'Hope' is the thing with feathers by Emily Dickinson. That one poem was the awakening to world of poetry at large. It opened up my horizons, and it is one of the reasons that I am here writing this for you today.

In college, a wonderful teacher of mine continued to feed this growing passion. He reacquainted me with some gems I may have overlooked in the past such as Frost, Byron, Shelley, Baudelaire, and many others.

Writing poetry comes best to me in the quietest moments of my day, usually these are the times I spent in public transportation and in the wee hours of the morning. Those are moments when time seems to slow down, or slow enough that I find myself able to grasp the thoughts and feelings that were rushing and running around all day and engrave them onto a piece of paper. Anything can inspire me, it can be a song I heard during the day, or a person I saw on the metro, it can be an event, a painting, a sunset... Inspiration can be found in anything, one just has to take the time to stop and look.

I don't have a preferred genre. When I write, I use the one that is the most in symbiosis with what I am writing about. It comes naturally. I do not try to force my words, it either works or it doesn't. If it doesn't, no rush, we simply pack up and try the next one.

I have never been part of collaboration; however I am very intrigued by the idea. It would be an illuminating experience to have. Also, I have never been published, but I would love to be someday. In the meantime, the initiative to create the Poets Pub that Bella and Bill have undertaken is simply amazing! I would like to thank them for providing this platform for us and for creating this family of poets.

As a parting gift to those who have taking the time to read this till the end, I will share with you the last stanza of my favorite poem, Invictus by William Ernest Henley.

"It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate:

I am the captain of my soul."

After this, I will only add one thing: Carpe Diem