It’s another week and time for a new blog. In this episode, I’ll talk a little bit about poetry and if you stick around until the end, I’ll share one of my poems.
I’ve been writing poetry since I was introduced to a wonderful crowd of fellow writers back in my college days. Through the years, I’ve had the pleasure of slinging verse with people from all walks of life and backgrounds. We’ve had open mic nights, poetry slams, and various incarnations of writing groups. I find being around creative people inspires me to be more creative. A little healthy competition and peer feedback are just what my writing muse asks for.
If you haven’t tried one of these venues to help get the creative juices flowing, then I highly recommend you do. At the very least, you’ll walk away with some new friends and new ways of looking at your own writing.
And now, as promised, an original poem. This is one of my earliest poems, written around 2007 or 2008. Enjoy, and as always feel free to share, comment, and like. Stay focused and Write On.
That First Poem
Wrapped in the words
as much as my mother’s arm.
Protecting me from the terrible images,
Letting me peek through my fingers
as they flitted past.
Dark shapes at the window,
pecking on the panes,
ruffling feathers skimming past my ear
to perch above my bedroom door.
Even then I wouldn’t cover my eyes.
It was just a poem.
The pictures were painted with clarity,
sculpting my impressionable mind.
I was adventurous when it came to reading,
librarians trying to break my spirit
would be answered by mom,
“Don’t worry about him,
he can handle it.”
The words and images captivated,
anchored in my heart,
keeping me fearless.
I could fight phantoms,
look for ghosts,
and visit hags in the woods
on a moonless night.
That first poem would guide me safely,