Are you #IAB ? In the poop of it, I offer my opinion on this mind-boggling paradox of the times we're living in: insurmountable venues for entertainment, yet we’re bored, and life is downright boring. How is that possible? #SMH
In two decades of decadent living I'd banished all remembrances of the past But the house that I ran from came ghosting Nudging me to go visit one last time…
This poem was inspired by a poem published yesterday; reread today. I invite you to read that poem and hope you also like mine of today.
We're nearing the end of April, the end of poetry month. I'm feeling sad already. Thanks for reading my words. I will never know all the voices that stayed long enough for me to jot things down-- all those voices that spoke through me this month already. But somewhere in the words that precede me, I know that at least one voice carried my soul. And I hope at least one squeezed your heart. Let me know which one, please. Here's my confession:
What a lovely prompt we worked on today. I chose a William Blake poem to follow and in no time, unpretentious little words swooshed in and inundated the page. Don't you just love it when that happens? I hope this poem is worth your time.
"Selma," said Mom, "don't forget to breathe." Today, I wish to tell you about a poignant piece of advice that came to me in the form of a decades-old memory. It envigorated me then and reliving it now has made me aware of the beautiful energy coursing through me--and you-- nothing short of amazing.