If you steal my poetry...I will find you in between the metaphoric lines. I will smudge you with inky darkness and do unwritable things never whispered of. In full disclosure, I am absurdly mad and take no responsibility for my actions if crossed. But, otherwise, I’m a deep visualizing poet creating particular facets, not only line by line but even the shades and innuendo 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 gentle fresh dawn. In the meantime, I write meaningful (to me) poetry from my heart and share it here. I tend to approach everyone as a friend until they demonstrate something different. I enjoy having creative exchanges with others, like-minded artists, or 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
The honest emptiness of the stew cooking, the mail piling up, and the sheer quietness can be haunting. My thoughts go to a deserted town where the only citizens are the tumbleweeds.
Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.
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“There is something to be said
For those surprising select flavors
Of yesterdays we still remember” – I love this opening. And it is so true
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Yes, I firmly believe it’s true, and thank you for appreciating my words.
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I have so missed your words.
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Most kind of you to say.
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This weaving of words is breathtaking. I love it.
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Thank you my friend
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My pleasure always 🙂
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The honest emptiness of the stew cooking, the mail piling up, and the sheer quietness can be haunting. My thoughts go to a deserted town where the only citizens are the tumbleweeds.
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Yes, great parsing.
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