Ammon had known for some time now where his passions lied. He had always been one who loved the written word. Whether it was short stories, novels, novellas, lyrics, and most definitely poetry, Ammon loved it all. In particular, Ammon favoured poetry, writing his own poems in his little black handbook. It went with him everywhere. He hoped to someday start submitting his works to magazines and websites to get his works published. He hoped, someday, that somebody would notice his natural talents and offer him a contract for a book. Maybe two, if he were lucky. It was all just a dream of course. Poetry was a dying art. There were not many people out there who still actively chased poetry as a career path.

Ammon was bound to make a difference. Ammon wanted to break the ice that encased poetry and show the average person how full of life and passion poetry was. In the digital age, online access made tangible arts a dying breed. It was such a shame. Ammon believed there to be far more beauty in the tangible, in the brush strokes and the curl and curve of letters ... in time spent honing your craft, and a far bigger disconnect in the versions found on the internet.

You could be 'well-known' online for your craft and never received a single cent. This was another thing that concerned Ammon. Everything on the internet was considered FREE if you didn't actively try to protect your work. Even then, people were stealthy.

Ammon hoped one day his work would be recognized. ..