Hello to everyone! I haven’t been into the blogosphere for quite some time now, but I had hernia surgery last week. All went well, thankfully, and I’m doing fine. There is still some pain in and around the area of operation, but that’s to be expected. Anyway, I’m doing well enough now that I should be back to blogging on a regular basis. Blessings to one and all!
Category: Blogging
And if at Night I Cannot Sleep
And if at night I cannot sleep,
Then let me write soul-deep;
Let me make my way to day,
Say what is much brighter,
And higher climb to a star
That does shine from afar
Let me endure and adore
Such quiet before me laid
As paid for by restless soul
With gaping hole to be fill
Yes, if at night I cannot sleep,
Then let me write soul-deep
How Does the Poet Explain?
How does the poet adequately explain his poetry
Without much pain, at the risk of sounding insane?
If the poet could explain her melodic words
Flowing serenely in rhyme and fine rhythm,
Then she may as well have written in prose
Rather than posing as a poet, you know it?
Poetry is an esoteric world of its own
Where the seeds of thought are sown
To be shown in an exquisite garden
Of variegation of creative creation,
Not in straight farm-like rows to plow,
So how, O how, does the poet now explain . . .
Poetry is potently mysterious
While making mystical sense
To the avid, passionate lover of metrical verse,
And it’s nothing to rehearse,
But to engage and fascinate!
It is to attract and grip and rivet the very heart,
But play no part in essays and academic articles!
Indeed, how does the poet amply explain his poetry
Without much pain, at the risk of sounding insane?
No! Vain is the task of trying and without any gain!
Note: First published in early November 2016, now republished due to some renewed interest as well as for the enjoyment (and edification?) of new reader-followers.
Happy Anniversary to Me (Triple Haiku)
It has been six years
Through many toils, trials and tears
And not a few fears
And since we first met
Blogging has been an outlet
And no better bet
So thank you WordPress
For giving me an address
A place to express
Note: Today is my sixth anniversary with WordPress, and what a six years it has been in my life! Through mountaintop experiences and many low and dark valleys, I’ve been blogging here for 72 months (and counting.) Not to be overly dramatic about it all, but I can honestly say we’ve seen a lot together. . . I especially think now, too, of so many fellow bloggers who have come and gone (and wonder where they have gone and why they went.) At any rate, WordPress gave me a chipper ‘Happy Anniversary,’ so this is mine back to WordPress. Now let’s celebrate!
6: The Short Story of My Blog
Singing Noble Themes?
Maybe; maybe not. It startled me somewhat to learn that I’ve actually been blogging on WordPress for six years! Whoa! That’s quite awhile, to be sure, and my life has definitely changed over the past half-decade.
As I told someone last year ~ at the time a fellow blogger ~ don’t look at the numbers or you’re bound to get discouraged. Well, that’s not always true, because I know of some fellow-bloggers who’ve actually scored a big hit in the Wide World of Blog just within two or three months of blogging. . . But, then, I dare say there are other challenges, concerns and reasons for discouragement when your still-rather-young blog is a big hit, too.
Mine was not, and I won’t dare to say it is even now; it took me well over three years to hit 200+ followers but, then, I wasn’t really trying to ramp up my blog to hundreds upon hundreds of followers, either. For me, blogging was (and still largely is) cathartic, so I was writing openly and publicly to heal. Yes, that’s right; even though I wasn’t, for the most part, addressing personal issues . . . for the first three years or so.
There was a period of time — how long, I don’t remember — when I stopped blogging, and that was a bad mistake. Little did I realize, until I started blogging again, just how important blogging was/is for my mental, emotional, and spiritual health, which all, in turn, affect my physical health. Who would’ve thought???
“Sloughheart” Leads to Brighter Days
Inspiration ended my desertion; it was the beginning of the “Sloughheart Series,” which did, in a creatively indirect way, address deeply personal issues. “Sloughheart” never became popular, mind you, but my entire perspective on blogging changed. No longer was it simply cathartic; it was challenging, as well. This is when I noticed my numbers (yes, I looked) going up just a tad. This is when I also nudged over 200 followers.
But, you see, this is when blogging became fun! I was having a real blast in blogging, yet at the same time it also became more serious. Does that sound contradictory? Believe me when I say, you can engage yourself in something rather serious and still have loads of fun. I really didn’t know this until I set about the “Sloughtheart Series.” In some ways, the Reverend Joy Brighterday saved me. Honestly.
Well, that’s not all that surprising. I purposely built her up to be the Christ-figure, even giving her the middle name of Immanuella, meaning “God with us.” She spoke to me, strange as it may sound. What was caught deep, down in the recesses of my soul came up, out and through Joy Brighterday, so that I began to hear my innermost self speaking in this central character. Eventually, I realized that to greater or lesser degrees, I was speaking to myself in and through all of the various characters.
Eventually all endeavours come to an end, and so for the “Sloughheart Series.” After this, I began searching through old poetry and felt inspired to revamp some of those old pieces, thus giving them new (and better) life. This more than at any previous time was when my blog started picking up new followers and scoring more “likes” and interactive commenting.
“Success” vs. Success
When poetic inspiration really grabbed hold of me and I began writing entirely new pieces, the numbers began climbing exponentially. (And this included an engaging mytho-poetic series that was both challenging and fun.) Well, not to belabor the point, but why am I saying all this? I would like to think that, perhaps, I’m helping someone . . . another fellow-blogger, maybe; encouraging while passing down some learned-wisdom.
Yes, of course, everyone cares to some extent about how well they’re doing — or, I dare say, at least most people — so, too, for me. However, I truly believe it is when blogging is, first of all, a passion as well as fun and, at the very least, healthy (if not healing, as well) that one can look for “success.” Even then, however, you should not look at your own success over and against that of other bloggers or you most surely will become discouraged. Why? Because you can always find someone, or some other blog, that looks and sounds and feels more “successful” than your own.
Conclusion . . . Not “the End”
I wish I could say that it’s been a happy six years, but I cannot. This is not due to blogging here at noblethemes, though; it’s simply been some extraordinarily rough years, actually beginning around 2010, just before I started blogging. Now, finally, I believe I’m coming around the corner, so to speak, and feeling (and doing) much, much better . . . for which I am eternally grateful. And so I can say, with as much confidence as any mortal can, that this may be the conclusion of this blog-article, but . . . it is not the end.
Note: The original version of this article was first published in January 2016.
An Unexpected Departure
Many days washed away during an unexpected stay
In a place secluded from the pace of ordinary ways
For the repair of mind to find fresh peace and solace
And a newer lease on life and serenity unfurled
In this world of painful woes and watery wishes
And now to see what may yet be in store for me
With hope … always anticipation in an emancipation
From baseless fear with God so near and angels dear
Yes, with this I have made the return
With hope that burns right brightly!
After days washed away during an unexpected stay
My Own Ars Poetica
Poetry may be a masterpiece of the heart torn apart,
Or the disconsolate word flow from a hole in the soul,
Or may be the sudden eruption of happy presumption;
She may be the lover’s cover in nearly numinous hover,
Or the sad ‘goodbye’ without really explaining why . . .
Poetry may come from the gut of a man caught in a rut,
Or the revelation of feelings long held in captivation,
Or may be exaltation of the contemplation of nature,
Or she may raise the hymn of otherwise silent praise;
Poetry may be sitting at a bar or wishing upon a star,
But above all, and with whatever else might be said,
She is testimony to the elasticity of the human psyche,
And in the end, poetry simply is . . .
Note: Inspired by an article written by Ken Craft kindly shared by Robert Okaji
Seven Day Poem (Day Seven)
On November 29th I began a seven-day poem with one stanza, and committed to adding one each day thereafter for seven days. This is the final result of that seven day poetic journey:
Seven-Day Poem
You intrigued me by being intrigued by me
As I wondered, ‘how can this possibly be?’
Am I to have another ‘she’ in my poor life
And will it be but another knife to my soul?
Now part of my heart feels young once again
As I begin to ponder all of the possibilities
But reality attacks and smacks me in the face
Reminding me of my actual place in this life
I am not really old but I am growing old
And though my heart is warm, my body is cold;
And I have not the strength to chase rabbits,
Or to form new habits or weather the storm
But you, you would shove all else aside for love,
To drink deeply from the rich cream of full life,
To fulfill your most cherished childhood dreams,
And no team of strong stallions can tear you away!
You deny reality staring you straight in the face
As you pace back and forth considering the worth
Of a bond newly birthed in raw desire unearthed
Never thinking we’ve nothing to give for this to live
But roses still bloom in season for good reason,
And then their beauty fades, having bade farewell,
And those roses do die and never try to live on and on;
Ah! There truly is propriety in the society of life!
So now, even as my heart dances and soul prances,
Truth lances illusory dreams and advances reality;
What seems so lovely and beautiful is found only
In the crucible of fantasy and is simply not to be . . .
Note: The completion of this poetic journey was first posted on December 5, 2016, and is being reposted now due to some renewed interest as well as for the enjoyment of new reader-followers. Blessings to one and all!
Big Fish in a Small Pond
He’s a big fish in a small pond, swimming proudly and loudly;
He’s critically acclaimed, you know? Well, if not, he’ll show you!
He’ll walk you down his promenade with his trifling accolades
So you’ll be sure that he’s really somebody after this grand tour;
And if he offers you a tidbit of his talent, you should sit in awe
And return many thankings else he’ll give you a good spanking;
If only you knew, he’s been published and received his reviews!
What does it matter if the sea knows not that he even exists?
He has his small pond, you see, and so he persists as a big fish,
And will dish out his importance to all of the minnows around
With boundless pride and arrogance . . .
But will anyone know when he has died?
He’s a big fish in a small pond, swimming proudly and loudly!
Just a big fish in a small pond, swimming proudly and loudly!
You Are an Artisan
Sometimes you get hit hard ‘n just feel like crying,
And sometimes even lying in bed hurts your head;
Sometimes you feel like curling up and just dying,
And sighing isn’t enough when you’re truly trying
To do your finest to fight through another life test
When you feel like a unwanted guest in the world
But you stand as tall as you can and give it your all
Even though it seems nobody really understands
And all you get in return are more hard demands
And so you wonder what to do, options too few,
But then you spy pen, pencil, or brush and hush,
For there they all are, instruments for your scars
To turn your pain into some kind of gain yet again
And in turn to bless others and maybe to impress
Something upon their minds and souls to unbind
Them from their own shackles with seeds sown
From your very own life blood . . .
You Are an Artisan
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