Marbles

Marbles

ABOUT ME

Who am I?  Well, you’re looking at me right there in the photograph at the top of this page.  Second from the left.  Unless it’s second from the right.  Hard to tell, part of my head is missing.  That’s a real trouble for me, I always misplace my head.  I usually manage to bring the rest of me along, which is a lucky thing. 

(Actually, this is my photograph of: Festival Procession, fragment from the east frieze of the Parthenon, the Acropolis of Athens, Greece, 5th century BCE.  On permanent display at the Musée Du Louvre, Paris).  

I take pleasure in welcoming you to my blog, “Imaginings In Verse.” This is where parts of my poetry like to reside, just so they don’t get misplaced when I misplace my head.

I’ve always liked the stuff, poetry. I like reading it, and after begging its forgiveness, I like writing it. The process of writing poetry is a type of healing for me, a distancing from mundane battles and the discord and unpleasantness of our world.  I write to help an unbearable become a little more bearable. Often, there is a bewildering even when one is exposed to beauty; beauty can take prisoners and tie the tongue.  At such times, I wait for her, for poetry.

Then, one never knows how long joy will last.  The most bountiful arrangements and the simplest gatherings of stalks are stamped with illegible expiration dates.  However, I’ve discovered that poetry understands the calendar, and when it's time, she is always there to pick up falling petals.

That’s what a good friend will do, and for me, poetry is a very good friend.  A temperamental one also.  Sometimes the verses will not come. Or they will, but they’ll be too sugary, too extraterrestrial, too ridiculous.

So I doubt myself, I get exasperated, give up.  But always I come back, I go on. I've learned it's important to keep writing, writing every day.  I believe it's an inherent need I have: find words, choose the most pertinent ones, arrange them just so, go back and move them around a little more... When I create a structure resembling a poem, well, that's a wonderful feeling. And I hunt for the truth. I am not necessarily referring to the actual truth, but one’s raw, uncomfortable, emotional truth, which fires the imagination to create.    

How I can be reached: 
This is what I look like in my new prescription shades. Facing the sun! I can use some lipstick, I think.
By the way, if you are having a poetic emergency, rather than emailing me, you may consider dashing over to your nearest library.  But only if it's an emergency. Otherwise, by all means, email me!