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 |   Thoughts destined to be washed away by the tides of life. |
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I've been studying my cover photo for a while now, and it seems to me that it is more than just a photo of what is there that can be seen, more than just three white rocks stacked on a beach. It contains an important question about the future, about what happens long after the photographer has gone. What will happen to our pile of stones when the tide comes in? Will it topple or has the architect built this structure at a safe distance? I don't know what will happen to these words that I stack here on the sand. They may prove safely distant, or they may be swallowed up by a rush of self-doubt. They may be here for a season. They may lose their balance and be scattered by the shoreline, or be hidden away under shifting sands. Perhaps someday, the tides of life will reclaim them. Or maybe that's just a bunch of poetic, romantic nonsense. After all, this is just a blog. |
| April is here. I had barely got my mind out of February and into March before Spring arrived and April showed up. It's been a calm April so far, but I always think of April as a windy month. Perhaps because I always put kites in the kids' Easter baskets and we always took them to the park to fly them. I was reminded of those excursions today when I stumbled upon this little poem in my portfolio. The kite is heavier than air So, one would not fault it For lying on the ground And refusing the sky But when April boasts and blusters And the air is full of gusty arguments The trees wave their arms wildly and The kite is goaded into a reply Of course, once I had read it I remembered only the one reviewer who came upon it and rubbished it for various reasons. I felt the reviewer didn't understand the concept of quickly writing an eight line poem from a prompt on a daiy basis, as this was written for "EXPRESS IT IN EIGHT "  . A lot of my little poems there are roughly drafted. Nevertheless, harsh reviews stay with us much longer than lavish praise.Still, it's April. Spring is here and there's time to write more bad poetry about it before Summer hits. |
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