So, Where did it all Begin….
Here I am, at 5 years old, picture day at school, I can remember exactly what I was thinking at this moment “Will I be like this forever”, as a child I never thought of growing older, just growing up, I thought life would be as it was then forever. Then as I grew older, I saw that I was very wrong. When my father passed away of Christmas eve in 1985, I felt empty, because my life had now seemed cut and severed, then my mother passed away 4 days after the birth of my 2nd child, and I felt sorry for myself, as well as him, that she would not be there to watch him grow up, I miss them so.
I have no impression of myself as having a gift or something of altruistic importance that makes me some sort of literary genius, that I think you should be impressed with my work, I just think I have an opinion that matters to me, and I would like to see how many of you feel the same way about life. I like to torment my friends this way, and I think of you as a friend if you read my work and feel any of the feelings I do.
My work is not sectioned or set in chapters, life is not that way, so it bounces around like a flea on a sand mound, feverishly looking for something to hold on to.
I first got the idea to write when I was 12, I would read poetry and it would fill me with romantic ideas and thoughts of life as being spiritual and free, then one day while walking home I saw an ambulance in front of the neighbors house, their grandfather had passed away while eating lunch.
They were carrying his body out and I watched as he was lifted in the gurney, the cover fell away and his eyes were open, he looked so sad, like he forgot something, like he was not finished with what he had to do. It was at that moment that I realized that life can be cruel as well as beautiful, and why I must write, my work is abstract, like my thoughts. I would ask that when you look at my poems as brushstrokes on paper.
I believe it is common to consider that poetry must rhyme or be in verse, for me I conceive that poetry is an inner expression and does not have to be “historically” set in specific stance. I would like to present to you some of my views in an introspective way, the world as seen through my eyes and felt through my heart. I would not expect everyone to gain a sense of awe or wonder by my words, but if you take the time to look at the way it is composed, you may find it enlightening.
I think too much has been placed on writers, that poetry or works of literature should be presented in a certain way. When we stepped out of the darkness and began to communicate, we had to develop from grunts and gestural movement to complex languages. The human race has grown into many cultures with many forms of independent expression; however the desire for beauty and culture has similar traits in all languages.
It is through desire to be close to enlightenment that we write our thoughts down, this is the reason that we take the time to express our inner feelings on paper, for the future generations to see our lives truly unfettered. With this book, you will be able to see what it is like to be someone else, in all of this person’s joys and sorrows. People have the uncanny ability to be forgetful and under appreciate the things in their life, I have, and I learned from it… sometimes. I hope that you do find some joy in being me, even if just for a day. This book is written for just that, living my life, as I have.
I could never get the hang of speaking about myself in the 3rd person, sounds so presumptuous, so I could try to speak / write in the first person, but then I may sound like i am bragging, so I will do it this way……
I find that my art, although abstract is speaking from a place deep within, the way I view the world may be skewed, so I guess I am trying to set it upright and easier on my eyes. I am from the abstract school of ” if it looks right, it is right” and the paint is always “flowing” I like warm colors and shades of light and dark, it allows me to work with the mood I am in at the time and it reflects that feeling well.
When I work with color, it seems to explode, and it becomes hard to contain in the canvass, I think it is more like the “Kiniption” that lingers inside until I cannot hold it in, I start with shades of warm colors but then “POP” and “BAM”, well you see what I mean
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Feel free to contact me, I do return messages, when possible.
- Concrete Poetry for Kids (thinkmagnetkids.com)
- Learning Poetry Terms and Forms (ahousewithabrokenheart.wordpress.com)
- Poetry Challenge Day 8: The Journey (wholeness4all.wordpress.com)
- That “Poetry” Moment (turnapagewriteonpaper.wordpress.com)
- Poetry Manuscript 2.0: Finding the Point, Again (jhointhecity.wordpress.com)