If you came here for facts, then try the next tab over. But I must say, facts do not make a person. (Sorry Mr. Gradgrind)
If you want to know about me
You should read my poetry:
The words upon the page,
Released from my soul’s cage;
The vocabulary tart
Is spoken from the heart–
My sweeter words must then
Rely on what’s within.
(Here’s a good place to start, perhaps: For Lack of a Better Poem)
Or, here are 12 different poems I wrote in 2013, one from each month:
1. I feel like any introduction to this poem is going to ruin it, and even saying that much might have ruined it. So without further ruining, I give you On Days When
2. This one, however, would likely benefit from an introduction. In it, I was trying to accomplish a poem as a painter might accomplish a painting: small flecks of paint, small bites of words. It’s not so much a detailed drawing as an abstract outline. Here is Mockingbird Monologue
3. How to describe this poem in a nutshell? It’s just a thankful observation. Green Gratitude
4. A shorter, lighter offering: Imitation is the Sincerest Form of Death
5. This is but a fragment, part 27 in an as yet unfinished work: O for my happy youth and yesterdays
6. This poem was one of the most fun to work on, as a friend composed a piece of music and challenged me to write a poem for it. This is the result: Morning Person
7. Why do I write? Some of it is certainly for personal pleasure. But it is a great joy indeed to share my work with others: Again.
8. I try to mix things up once in a while. Here is a poem that has implied actions for every line. I thought about supplying them but thought that would make the post too cumbersome, and I also liked the idea of giving the reader the freedom to come up with their own actions they thought would fit this “back-rub poem” best: Dinner’s On the Table
9. This is a narrative poem that, if made into a Hollywood film, would state it was “inspired by a true story”. There’s truth in it, I suppose: Ghetto Guide
10. If I were a pitcher, I’d throw a lot of curveballs: Thoughts When Viewing the Ocean
11. What kind of poet would I be if I didn’t write any downers? A Long and Somber Sigh
12. If any of these other poems rung false, then this should be the litmus test. Here is a narrative poem that actually happened: Consigned to Fate? (Worst day of the year)
I love feedback of any variety: if you love a poem say so, if you hate one then yell so. If you find one line irritating then point it out. If you find one line resonates with you, then please echo it and tell me why. Also if you have an idea, no matter how ridiculous, for a poem–share it!