Poetry

The beginning of everything

In the evolution of communication arts, the verse emerged from the sea of song. Words turned and turned, gathered force in a charm, a prayer, an entreaty to the powers of life and death, to the beat of the heart, the rhythm of the cry. A gourd and skin formed the drum. A poor reed pricked with holes served as flute. One day the drum disappeared, stolen by the trickster forest god, the reed snapped and was tossed in the dry thicket. The shaman knew he must sing alone. His words hummed in his desert throat. The poem went out on its own, carried by his voice. A poem is now a quiet thing of the indoors; it whispers to the eyes and asks to be left alone.

Biographical note:

I've been writing poems since childhood. I won my first contest in high school and my poems were first published in a daily circulation newspaper one week before I went to college. Poetry is great to do and hard to evaluate.

Since the rise of the novel, poetry has found a commercial use and public prominence in greeting cards and popular songs, but there abides a pleasure in reading and writing it.

The White Male

(Excerpt)

...Love life!

(Give me a nickle)

Think upon time

(Lend me a dime)

Muse upon eternity!

(Give it to me free!)

Pachyderms Who Woke (excerpt)

Pachyderms who woke

could not dissemble

the roar of timber fallen...

The end's preamble came

swiftly and went,

the behemoths bellowed

but could not repent...

For more about my poetry and reading interests please visit me at GOOD READS

http://bit.ly/dFntRQ

Creativity is destiny

In art, your way is the only way