One Year

Tomorrow is the first anniversary of this blog. I think there are already more than three hundred sixty-five poems up and posted… but tomorrow will be the anniversary. I wish I had something profound to say but…

I have learned a lot more about blogging and bloggers in the last year. I have made plenty of mistakes and have my share of regrets. However, it has been an interesting experience. Posting rough drafts every day is a strange thing. Usually the impulse is to only share finished work that you are at least somewhat proud of. This is something entirely different. I really just wanted to have a place where I had a space to work with the potential for feedback and a minimal vague sense that I had to write for someone every day.

I think that there are a some interesting possibilities if I continue this blog. I really enjoyed the Desert Abbey but I feel I need to manage it better. I would love to do another interview… maybe even as a regular feature. And of course, I have been considering editing some of the poems already posted as another exercise.

I have to say though, that I really miss Planaquarium. I hate that he deleted his blog instead of just ceasing to post. He was like a master among a sea of sometimes really good poets. He posted things that had form and polish and meaning and cadence. He often shook me to the bone. His words made me weep. I hate that I did not copy and paste every one of his poems onto my hard drive. I would pay good money to have some of his work. If I had done nothing else this year… this blog was worth it just because I got to read some of his poems. Wherever you are sir… I pray that you are well. I am not ashamed to say: live long and prosper.

I have met quite a few people through the blog (far more than I imagined I would). Some of you e-mail me. Some of you text me. Some of you call me. And of course there are the comments. I appreciate the anonymity and what it allows me to write and I know that there is a time for everything. It is unlikely I would write much in this way with my own name. Does that make me a coward, smart, or a realist? Maybe a little of all three.

Granbee, you have written more comments than anyone. But you do not settle for volume. You surprise me with your consistent thoughtfulness. Thank you.

Caddo, your empathy and kindness is astounding. I hope that I am not too crass and insensitive. Oh, and I really do think your writing is getting even better.

Nicole, oh Miss Story… what can I even say? You make me laugh. You have impeccable taste in many things. You are honest in a way that I rarely am. You speak from the heart often about the heart. Your poem in the Desert Abbey was fabulous. I hope you write some more. Also, your dog is adorable and you look great in that dress.

Kharma, you may have been the first person in my whole life to actually write me a poem. Your writing often makes me uncomfortable. It is filled with passion and angst. It conveys feeling in a very powerful way. Your poems in response to my poems will always remain a landmark in the history of my life. Be well.

David, we don’t do a lot of chatting– just the occasional comment or two on each other’s blog. But none the less, you are a blogging inspiration to me. You consistently publish beautiful and poignant poetry. You find amazing pictures to go with them. You have some of the best quotes of the day on the whole internet. You write short stories as well. And I love your style. I wish you well and look forward to more of your work.

Authored Angioplasty, you really write interesting poems. Your pacing and content that go together in ways I would have not realized possible… it is exquisite. You don’t always publish all that often. But when you do it is so good… that I still check your blog almost every day.

Que, I don’t even know how to pronounce your screen name. Your poetry, however… words cannot express… You say things in verse that I think and feel. Your poetry doesn’t just challenge or inspire me (as do other’s), it resonates with me. You say things that I would say and it shocks me. I love what you do. I pray that you keep doing it. I feel like I should say more… but words fail…

Frisky Bunny, I don’t know if you go by that any more but I have enjoyed your writing from the beginning. May your secret burrow not remain so secret. I wish you would publish more. You really are quite good.

Mr. Bergh, your blog is one of the one’s I have followed the longest. You write about love and life and things you feel in a way that makes it real for others. Thank you. I hope you are well.

There are other’s of course, newer ones. Clown On Fire, Madame Weebles, Sunlit Rain, and on and on and on. I keep finding new bloggers. Some are poets, some are humourists, some are photographers, some are a combination of many things. I could not begin to mention them all. But I think the point is that over this year it is other writers that have really stood out to me. That is what has made this experience worthwhile. In the end, after all, it is other people who really matter.

I do not know what will happen in the next year– not in life, nor in this blog. This, however, I know, other people will be important. Let us not forget.

Ignore

Holding up the day
are just a couple things
but often you don’t see them
Or think about these things.

In your mighty list
there may be just a few
of all the things that you wrote down
that you really need to do.

And the things you would put off
tell you oh so much
about yourself and where you are
And how you need that touch.

Not Enough

I think sometimes
When I am “being real”
that I am not that helpful
and I tell myself,
“at least you are being honest…”
as if that made it ok
to say this or that
and to write the things I write–
you know,
“the real stuff.”

I think sometimes
when I am doing just what I want
and it is so bad
for everyone
that I tell myself,
“you have to start where you are,
not where you wish you were…”
and the worst part about that advice
is that it is true
but still,
I represent people
and things
badly.

I think sometimes
when I have a burst of inspiration
I don’t think about what it will do
or I choose to lie to myself
and bottle it up
and I never find a balance.
But there has to be
a balance.

I know that words have power
and that lying to yourself is dangerous
and that communicating is important,
but that is all I know,
and it is not enough.

Heaven and Earth

Up above with lighted clouds
That float with angels in golden skies
We place our dreams that were too loud
And find a box to hide our whys.

Daring darlings that we are
Tempted children from holy God
We separate the earth and sky
And change our praises and our laud.

We leave the best things said above
While we search and cry below
And the God who made us rolls his eyes
To see the way we choose to go.

Some of us do not believe
That spirits are a very thing
And others choose to wait their life
For treasures found on angel’s wing.

Wrestling back and forth we break
And often lose such precious things
But looking now at church’s tower
We hope and wait, the bell to ring.

Flesh

The darkness upon me like shattered cold night
drapes over shoulders and faces and light
I will go down again
Still there remains a cold river.

I feel naught in numbness that opens my eyes
I look not for help in the dark starless skies
I will not rise again
The water flows swiftly at night.

Down in the dark beneath happy hold
Where naught but the monsters live to grow old
Fear is the outsider’s friend
Living is war in the heart.