Trust [1]
You
don’t need to be clever
nor rich in words
nor strong
If
you can write
tap your inner
true
You’ve
done better
than most
ever
Do
[1]
"Pelicans sail over the waves," Rancho Palos Verdes, California
(2021)
Social connection [1]
1
Strange
when
poems
read
like
fruit
peelings.
Lord,
open
my
eyes
to see
the
fruit.
2
My friend across the room reads a poem.
Something in the voice plucks at my heartstrings.
Something I did not see on the page.
Friend’s whole life fills the air.
Transmits the sense.
Amplified by her backstory.
3
Sometimes
our faults,
self-centered-ness,
selfish ways,
vanity,
presumption,
sabotage the poem
and it drops to the ground
lifeless and
…
retreats
into
shadows.
4
More than words in isolation
placed upon the page,
little verbal spells
to conjure in minds
sickness, joys,
passions, pains.
Human feelings distinct from
a machine-like existence, as if
one could explain everything.
Every effect had a cause. So,
we could live wonderful
— or tragic — lives by
choosing.
5
Major publishers have an agenda.
Minor poets have a direction.
The winds died.
Factories founded.
Poems graded on spreadsheets.
"Thank
you for submitting to {major publisher}.
We appreciate your {minor
effort},
although we won’t be
carrying
your work in the
magazine.
We are grateful for the
opportunity
to read and consider it."
Major publishers have no connection.
6
My social contact with the poet informs my connection to
their poems.
We are always more than our words on the page.
Social Media {Angry😡} [1]
I looked
at Meta {Facebook}
for inspiration
to write a poem
on the theme
social media. {Wow😮}
I guess
my friends and I
are not doing
inspiring things. {Sad😥}
Why look
at the Metaverse
for inspiration? {Ha-ha😝}
It’s
obvious
nothing
happens
in social media. {Like👍}
It
happens
in real life. {Love❤️}
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