Several years back I found out I was a "real" poet of sorts as well. While I'd written poetry before, you know...teenaged mushy stuff about boyfriends and what not, I always blamed "my muse" for not being able to write all the time. I'd write here and there when something came to me, but nothing much beyond that. Actually I wrote mostly horror stories. I may post one some day. We'll see...
I became really interested in poetry in the online community I was a part of. They had what was called "theme poetry." It was mostly an invitation for all would be, wanna be and actual poets to create pieces of poetry around a common theme and then share them with the community. The theme would change weekly. Sometimes they also added the challenge of writing in a particular style of poetry. Eventually I became the coordinator of that group resulting in my now having over 180 pages of poems.
Am I a good poet you might ask? I dunno. Sometimes I think 'hell yeah!' even though I'm very critical of my writing. But really what I think doesn't matter, the worth or level of meaning in a poem is definitely in the eyes of the reader I think. Besides, I fancy myself more of a story teller than a poet.
Being a theme poet did teach me quite a bit though. I learned about different poetry styles, which was very cool. I learned that writing was NOT dependent upon my muse. I found out, much to my surprise, that I could take a theme and write a poem about it on demand. Sometimes ideas and words would come tumbling out of my head like cornflakes out of a cereal box. At other times it was like mining for gold, I had to dig a bit to get at the really good nuggets.
When I started this blog I decided to add some of the poems I've written from time to time. They're always up for interpretation, and as always, comments are welcome.
I seem to write a lot about love, relationships and the like. Many of my poems are completely ripped from my imagination. Others were written in my blood, images carved out of my own joys and sorrows. Either way, I hope you will be entertained. And while I'm at it, let me officially thank you for being here reading my little blog. Out of all the hundreds of thousands of blogs out there, you are here, reading mine. I'm honored, flattered and I truly appreciate your presence.
Now on to my whirling, swirling words. I hope you enjoy reading them.
NOTE: In most cases, the title of the poem reflects what the weekly theme was at that time.
When I’m dead…
What will become of all my poetry?
Will it be used to immortalize me?
Will you remember me when it you read?
Will you see all of the wild and wonderful things I’ve seen?
The reality is that in spite of, or despite me
when I’m dead,
© TDM 06/22/08
© TDM 4
(for my loving daughter-RM)
I’m not the woman
I thought I’d be,
but I like who I am
Granted, I’m a little crazy
in the head,
but I’d like to think I have
some good ways.
Time has sometimes
been a friend to me,
sometimes she had me
all mixed up.
The wine she served
was sometimes sweet,
at other times I wanted
to pass the cup.
Like blood oozing through snow
or black cherries ripening
on a grey green vine,
we all savor, yet resist
the passage of our own precious time.
I am no exception
with my dreams and my daughter in tow.
After I’ve walked the way I’m going,
I hope and pray I’ve shown her
the right way to go.
Because isn’t that really what time
and life is all about;
to live, to learn, passing on what we know
without too many regrets, or doubts?
No, I’m not the woman I envisioned I’d be-
I’m a tad crazy, by now a little worn.
Yet even as I mourn the passing of some of my dreams,