I’m a deep visualizing poet creating particular facets, not only line by line, but even the shades and innuendo's between them; to the point that, I can get so comfortably caught up in my imaginations first imperfect draft that I sometimes just move in to stay there… rhetorical, spelling, grammar, mechanics be damn, nothing in life is that perfect. I don’t need tailor made, I need someone/something to fit well enough that it becomes fashionable for me to wear well. I don’t need to pretend to know everything and I resist pontificating those things I’m well versed in.
I'm just a simple romantic at heart waiting on a perfect storm to completely sweep over me like a gentle fresh dawn. In the meantime, I write meaningful (to me) poetry from my heart and share it here. I tend to approach everyone a friend, until they demonstrate something different. I enjoy having creative exchanges with other like minds artist, writers.
Thank you for reading, commenting and your visit. I appreciate all the feedback (good or bad) you care to offer.
Feel free to reach out by email for private exchanges if you wish.
View all posts by Poet of the Light
“He was still silent about the images he saw behind his closed eyes. It seemed as if he loved this pain, that he loved her as he had loved me, very much, until he died perhaps, and that now he preferred her to me.” – Marguerite Duras, “The Lover”. Your poem reminds me of this quote … it makes more sense within the context of the book 🙂
Whispers of a poet's heart 
True that!
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Thank you dear friend. I always enjoy your comments and visits.
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I agree there is nothing painful about love. It’s a wonderful and positive feeling. It’s kind of like saying there is sadness in joy.
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Agreed, however I believe we can say there is beauty in sadness. Thank you for commenting.
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Great…. we must preserve the real identity of love….. your post was really beautiful
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Thank you, I’m glad you enjoyed it.
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❤️
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“He was still silent about the images he saw behind his closed eyes. It seemed as if he loved this pain, that he loved her as he had loved me, very much, until he died perhaps, and that now he preferred her to me.” – Marguerite Duras, “The Lover”. Your poem reminds me of this quote … it makes more sense within the context of the book 🙂
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A fine complement indeed, Thank You. I would’ve responded earlier to you but no internet for 20 hours followed no electric for 16 hours.
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No problem. Wow, sounds like a snow/ice storm?
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Such beautiful poetry. thank you
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Thank you for visiting and your kind words.
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We can not be rescued by someone
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I disagree
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How do u think someone can be rescued then?
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