Welcome to my new website. I hope you visit often! I want to use this blog space to talk about poetry and to dialogue about all things artistic, but particularly about poetry and spoken word art. And you get to comment back! Certainly I want to hear from poetry lovers in Canada, North America and throughout the world. There's lots to talk about. Poetry is enjoying a worldwide renaissance of sorts. It's lovely and energizing to see so many people from so many walks of life discovering the beauty and allure of both the written and spoken word. So enjoy and don't hesitate to drop me a note or two of response. You can expect new content here several times a week.
You'll also note that my site currently broadcasts my poem "The Poet" from my first book of poetry, Infinite Sequels. My goal here is to publish both new and established poems. I want to use it as a sounding board for new pieces, so I'll expect and welcome your comments. I'll also be commenting on the background, thematic direction and intent of each poem on the site, just to lend a sense of depth and perspective to each work.
So here's my "Between The lines" on The Poet.
I wrote this poem on a hot August day a few summers ago. I was struggling that day to put the words down. I was struck by the "summer silence/hermetically still," as I literally listened to the sprinklers circulating and the lawn mowers labouring beyond the open window. I was struck by the juxtaposition of the outer tranquility of the scene before me and the inner turmoil I was experiencing as a poet attempting to nail words to the page. My whole life seemed to lay before me "shining/charged with its wick of burning flesh." I seemed at that time destined to remain at that desk, unable to participate in the joy of the summer day, bound inextricably to the task of creating word art for both my personal benefit and for the enjoyment of others. At that moment there was a fleeting moment of despair, perhaps even desperation or futility, as I realized how a "life in art/spiders its dark stain/into the grey, hard rocks" and the poet is left chasing words endlessly as the lover pursues the heart of another. The words we need remain as elusive and as unattainable as "the trailing hearts we chase/but never catch." Such is the lot of those destined to "a life in art."
So that's my inside scoop on The Poet. I'll shortly be posting more poems and will enjoy sharing with you my thought process behind each and every word.
Until then, in the beauty of the written word, I am