Maturity

Maturity, more abstracted, more surreal. As the poet matures, perhaps in years, perhaps experience, perhaps expression, so does the poetry. I think this is true of many a writer – poet or novelist, unless their debut is dazzling. I think this is true of many a person, unless what they see and learn of the world stalls them; keeps them locked in place or makes them retreat.
Where it's written, I prefer the more anguished early years; later it's more hidden, cloaked in metaphors. Youth have that freedom; adults must resist it, not speak of it, and not write openly of it. For, angst should have disappeared, as years were gained, as the adult face emerged, beneath the youthful one.

Picture credit: The Poet, 1911, Pablo Picasso (source: The Solomon R. Guggenheim Foundation, Peggy Guggenheim Collection, Venice; Wikipedia).

From journal, September 2021.