Poets bare their natures. Right now mine is stormy with anger.
I don’t want to hide under the blanket.
Like you say….too much going on and the blanket is too damp to ignore.
I relate to your poetry, Daniel.
j.

“Tap the window panes hard”–yes, it seems the only way to get one to notice poetry. Not the favorite genre of so many…
They seem not to want to work a little to find something of value in the words.
I really like this…Daniel.
j.

Yes, the secret to writing is simply to do it.

I didn’t feel this until very recently, but now I do.
You stated my state of mind and heart here, Green.
j.

I’m hoping that’s true for me. Someday I’ll know for sure. 🙂

Short and sweet

We are always at the starting point of a new beginning, and that’s exactly where we’re meant to be 🌼

I used to ponder such things and wrestle with the all-too-powerful fate and the places and predicaments it put me in. Now in old age, I’m inclined to see it as you do.

A haunting, beautifully layered meditation on loss, memory, and ritual. The imagery is vivid and intimate, moving effortlessly between grief, remembrance, and fleeting moments of connection. The poem lingers like smoke, both tender and unflinching.