Hello…Can you hear me?

(Salvador Dali)

Well, it has been a long while since you have ‘heard’ from me. That is, I have been consumed with writing poetry and Writerdeeva has been taken over by prose. Surprisingly, my blog has become more popular since.


What? You don’t like my thoughts? That could be an insult. But I am not taking it that way. I am a little thrilled to know that my poetry has had an emotional affect on readers. Well, that may be pushing it. My poetry has touched people. Okay, exaggerating too much? Let me try this again. My poetry is of interest to people. Better? I think the most repeated comment I have gotten is, “Your poems are so sad.”


I am not a sad person, so this takes me by surprise. I consider myself quite chipper! Either I am channeling someone else, or I am a much layered person inside. I will go with the second choice. It makes me sound soooo artistic! (Don’t worry, I’ll get over myself with the next rejection letter. By tomorrow afternoon my sense of self importance will be gone.) A little part of me is giddy that I have this ability to move people, even if it is to the point of depression. (I know, I have a sick, sick mind.) And I guess, I write these poems because they are so different from the person that I show. Then the question begs, is not this method of writing showing ‘me’, just a different side?

Gosh, gee, Wally….

And there it is: Vulnerability! Something I have not wanted to show. Damn it! Novel writing I can hide. I can create a world, characters, situations that have no resemblance of me or my life. (Again people….NO, THE SEX SCENES IN MY NOVELS ARE NOT FROM EXPERIENCE!) But poems? There is nowhere to hide. So few words that say so much. So few words that mean so much.

I am naked.

Now, being naked isn’t a bad thing, if I was twenty with perfect legs, perky breasts, and a cute butt. (As I have never been all that, I am fast forwarding…) But being naked, at my age, is not what people want to see. I am not sure I want to see!  All that exposure is so scary. What if someone truly understands my words, my emotions, my meaning???? God help that person! (Seriously!!) But what if? What age has given me is this answer: So what! Hence why I can be naked. Isn’t that the point of poetry? To expose the deep layers of our lives, to see a reflection of ourselves, so that we become more human and connected?

Whoa….too deep?

I am new to poetry. I have tapped into something that I can’t seem to turn off. It is growing each day and I am exhilarated. It has allowed me to open up in ways that I didn’t think I was capable. I have discovered words in a whole knew light, appreciating each meaning and inuendo. It makes me pause and observe the world differently. It is making me a better novelist. It is allowing the artist in me.

I am a Poet! (Who knew!)

I laughed the other day when someone said, “you are a writer and a poet.”  Okay…if that is what you want to label it. I just never thought to call myself that. But I guess I am if I am writing poetry. No doubt, not all think of me with such a lofty title. I have gotten feedback like, “that was interesting,” or “why do you write those things?” But when people say I moved them, I cannot help but feel honored to be so connected to someone else emotionally. It is a ‘wow’ moment and I feel accomplished as a writer.

(If you haven’t read my poetry, check out my past blogs!)


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