He let imagination play And spill across each fevered page; Of life spent at a breakneck pace, Of love and hate and Sex and rage And peaceful moments that would touch The hearts of any who might see; But wonders now, and over-much, If all of it’s Not vanity He wanted what he wrote to … Continue reading "On The Transience and Vanity of Being A Writer"
They wonder why he writes so much, That there’s so few will ever read; And what this strange compulsion is, This all-embracing need — But long he travelled through the shadows Of the vale of night: He first wrote just to breathe, But now he breathes So he can write (“The Poet’s Fate” – … Continue reading "The Poet’s Fate"
Reality’s not what she wants it to be, And so she makes her own In the virtual pages she fills each night In her study, all alone, At a place and a time and with people there Who speak to the ears of the wise; For the thoughts that she spills through her fingers and … Continue reading "Flotation Device"
At fourteen years, he wrote his love (as best he could) a letter, in hopes if she knew how he felt, that she might love him better. But that’s not how the real world works for guys who are not fighters, who learn they’re on the outside in with all … Continue reading "Poetry 101"
I always wanted to be the creative type, Although I can’t say why now, looking back — You think of it as building sort of worlds, Instead of filling in some void, or lack — But what is it but random muscle play, Or telling jokes in giant empty halls, Recounting stories no one thinks … Continue reading "The Creative Type"
A blog is like a clothesline With garments out to dry In full sight of whoever may By chance be passing by And though there may be colors bright They’ll also be some holes (So maybe, now, a drier Should be one of my new goals) An old and worn technology, To journal out one’s … Continue reading "Clothesline"
I see the vistas of your mind as carried through your words; the colors of your feelings, ever-changing – The way you restlessly explore each strange and new adventure; the many places that your heart is ranging — And what this is, is hard to know: your vision, … Continue reading "The vistas of your mind"
[I’ve decided to take a 30 day break from writing poetry and write essays instead. It probably will become evident why I write poetry, but, there it is. – Owen] Why do we write? The most common answer is some form of “writers write, because that’s what they do”. This answer avoids the question, of … Continue reading "Why Do We Write?"
“Bring me the words, And I’ll call forth the meaning.” “No, thanks,” I say. “I’ll do that on my own.” The world’s restricted, Limited our being; But in the writer’s chair, We’ve each A throne