Unexpected widow, had to give up the dream of homestead from scratch on her own. Avid reader. Dilettante. Admirer of Muir, Thoreau, Emerson and Berry. Analytic, wearing a permanent pair of rose-colored glasses. And probably much more that I will learn about myself as my solitude stretches out before me like an unexplored, back-country road.
A little about poetry…
Poema, Greek, from the root poieo (I make)
There is formal poetry, there is free form poetry, there is Haiku, on and on we may list forms. Poetry is what we make of it, really. It is a birthing of something that moments ago, did not exist except in fragments of thought.
Yet poets arrange words in a setting, elevating sometimes common words, until they become hardened jewels of emotion. We coax emotion, thoughts, imagination, from just arranging words one after the other on the page. At least, that is my goal. I do not want you to leave here untouched. Angry, sad, thoughtful, happy – all fine 🙂
One of the reasons some of my poetry is vocalized, and some not, is that I want you, the reader, to hear the emphasis as the words are choreographed in my mind. I’d appreciate it if you’d weigh in on the poll currently under the poem page for “Scaffold of Words”.
You are likely to find very personal things here; erotic things, short, humorous things, deeply emotional things – mostly what you will find here is me, unshuttered.
I welcome interaction – in fact it is necessary, in order to get a pulse from the reader. Thank you for visiting, and I hope that among my phrase garden, you will find evocative things to cherish, and will return, just as one returns to a garden, to see what new things are in bloom.
I wish you…enough.
(taught to me by a Cambodian friend years ago)