Poetry has a rhythm that sings to my soul.
My poems are about life, living, love . . . and surviving those setbacks we all have that feel so world-shattering when they happen.
It was Gustave Flaubert who wrote, “There is not a particle of life which does not bear poetry within it.” Wikepedia tells us that Flaubert had a “scrupulous devotion to his art and style, best exemplified by his endless search for le mot juste (the right word).” I suffer the same affliction.
Writing poems is not easy for me. Words get caught on the tip of my brain refusing to reveal themselves. Sometimes I need to tap into my very soul and draw blood to find the way that best articulates what I am truly feeling.
For me, poetry is all about feeling—how one feels about life, living, and love (or the lack thereof)—and putting those feelings into words that paint the whole picture in a nice turn of phrase.
I like my poems. Though they defy the rules and might never earn universal acclaim nor a Pulitzer, they stir memories—both good and bad—and evoke the same feelings I had when I first wrote them.
I generally write to purge my soul when I have the need and feed my creativity when I have the urge.
Since we all share the same human struggles and feelings, I am hoping my poems will strike a chord in others.