Why Poetry?

Welcome.  I wonder about you.  About what brought you to this page.  I wonder about your connection to poetry.

Most mornings, before the night sky begins its delicious walk through deep blue to pearl, rose, and finally sun yellow, I spread words, tentatively, like cold butter on fresh made bread, across blue lined paper. Less and less am I inclined toward answers.  Less and less, for that matter,interested in the flow of thought.  Perhaps the blue pen making its dancing moves above the page, or even the path of my eyes following the dance…

Letters form their own arc of memory, lift the poem off the page and send it, wings stirring like a heart, toward a feeling.

 


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