Poem Blog

When I started this blog, I had planned to post entries on a regular basis. Unfortunately, this has proven to be more of a challenge than I had originally anticipated, so I have been contemplating digging into the archives and posting some of my older writing. Looking back at some my previous writings reinforced my belief that any of my writing whether it be in the form of fiction, poetry, essay or song, is a snapshot of my life at that specific point in time. It also served to remind me of a few things.

Anything that I write is simply a snapshot of any given moment in time. If is an essay or blog, it doesn't necessarily reflect my current opinion or feelings. This especially applies to poetry. Often I would write about an intense emotional experience. I have difficulty verbalizing many of my feelings and thoughts. This is my therapy. This is my form of communication.

When writing poetry or music, you are limited in your time/space to express yourself within a confined structure. Sometimes this can spawn more creativity. You have find the exact right words, in as few as possible to express what you are trying to say. Sometimes, the medium that you are using isn't adequate for what you are trying to express and you need to explore other formats. Here is an example of something that I wrote about ten years ago called Staring at Boxes:

Staring at boxes and praying for hope
Trying everything that I can to cope
When I look out the window
Many tears start to flow 
There's something missing
All my time, spent reminiscing
I love her more than my life
I love her as my wife
At the table there are two chairs
Yet, my only company are prayers

Boxes are all I have of our dreams,
All of our precious schemes
One box has clothes that you wore
Some are scattered on the floor
Like the shards of my life 
Cutting my soul like a knife
I light a single candle, still
On the kitchen window sill
A lone beacon in the night
To guide you to my plight

Am I fool to go on like this?
Anxiously awaiting one last kiss
Burned in my memory forever
Is the last time we were together
So close we were to making it
You knew that I would never quit
Alas, the only remnants of you
Are boxes that are piled askew

Thank you for reading. Hopefully, I'll be posting more new material, soon. God bless.