Sunday, April 16, 2006

Where I'm Really From

When I posted my "Where I’m From" entry, I got a comment that kind of took me aback. Debbi said, "I know it’s not your usual vehicle…"

Ah, but it is! I’ve been writing poetry since I was in high school. I found it kind of sad that my usual entries don’t betray my poetic bent. Then I realized that I had been posting my poetry and more "creative" writing in my private journal—"Brainsurfing." I don’t write there anymore. I haven’t the time; the way post-apocalyptic Journal-land has re-formed, I have more than I can handle between "Coming to Terms," on AOL and "Better Terms" and "The Blue Voice" on Blogspot.

But, yes….I do write poetry. Even without a template to point me in the right direction. I’ve brought this one over from "Brainsurfing." It seems to speak to the theme upon which I have been expounding lately—my love/hate relationship with blogging…


it is after all


of nothingness


they are out there

but not

those spirits


one thinks kindred

could easily be

probably are invented


too much like

the world inside my head

to be real


I reach out

to grasp them

and wrap my arms round




  1. more people write poetry than actually read it.    i'm one of the few who reads poetry.    i know i can't write it ... to me it's a very demanding discipline.    But - God bless you - you CAN.    i enjoy and envy you.

  2. I wish I could reach out and wrap my arms around you.  One day maybe geography will oblige.

  3. Cynthia's response is beautiful.
    Actually, I read something of yours after I wrote that comment which made me realize you ARE a poet--although I skimmed back briefly and can't find the reference.  But I'm glad I said that because it brought forth the poem.   You never cease to awe me.  This is a lovely companion to your entry about the transitory nature of bloggy friends.  
    I'm going to write too much of an intellectual response to an emotional piece, but here goes.  It started me thinking about expository vs narrative, art vs commentary, novel vs cliff's notes, symphony vs program notes and so on, and how some of us like to have explanation, meaning, for the more ethereal forms of expression, to be told explicitly by the creator what was in mind, or at least what some learned soul thinks is the theme it speaks to.  Not that that's bad--our brains are meaning, pattern-seeking organisms. But anyway, so I challenged myself to reread several times and let my mind form a few other personal themes and responses.  Now that's pure poetry.  Thank you.