"When dawn spreads its paintbrush on the plain, spilling purple... ," Songs of the Pioneers song from TV show "Wagon Train." Dawn on the mythic Santa Fe Trail, New Mexico, looking toward Raton from Cimarron. -- Clarkphoto. A curmudgeon's old-fashioned newspaper column, cross-breeding metaphors and journalism and art, for readers in 150 countries.

Thursday, February 25, 2010

Deeper into my soul....

I am not a poet most of the time
except that I feel, I see, I live.
I write poetry when I am raw
in grief, love, lust, learning.
And images and originality
don't come  unless
my heart is touched.
So I am astounded
when I read those
who seem to find the muse
more deeply than I,
whether Whitman, Eliot
or Hall or Gilbert....
I wish I could see,
could feel so deeply
and express it in words.
But I cannot, and
that makes their words
dig deeper into my soul.

6 comments:

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  2. Wow. You said it, I've felt it. Thanks for sharing and helping me know myself in your universal words...good job...Ron

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  3. You have humbled me right down to the holes in my socks! How generous of you to include me with such notable poets.

    You are wrong about yourself. Your writings are as sensitive, profound, perceptive, rhythmical and poetic - and your poems are wrought from your very heart. This quote from Walt pertains to you - "Our visions, the visions of poets, the most solid announcements of any.

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  4. Thanks to all for your notes...

    The poetic muse is rare in me, and most of my stuff is because I have to try too hard to see. I'm much better at seeing in prose, painting, photography.

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