This is the day my trees
Are beare, no leaves, but soul
I’m deep, vast caverns,
Making everything dark and stormy
Rain slants below wet clouds,
Yet, my winter body isn’t ready!
Bring forth more rain, bluster
Unusual for no one exits days
With wet leaves under invisible
Clouds filled with remorse, minimum
Revivals of distance to stars,
Why would we dream of color
On our Beautiful out pictures
Thus, remember me on Autumnal
Days, wet with years, tears
Of my county in 2018, tears
Of sorrow, tears impossible!
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Published by elgwyn
I was a University and community college instructor before retiring. I also worked in fast food restaurants, and retail stores. I am an ordinary man writing for because I want to write and because my education prepared me to write; BA English lit, MA English, EdS higher education, and MFA creative writing, free verse poetry and essays. Blogs are an answer to high-priced self-publishing. Walt Whitman had to self-publish his first 1000 copies of the 1855 edition of Leaves of Grass because in 1855 poetry did not sell. Most poets make a living in other ways than writing. Wallace Stevens was an insurance executive, and TS Eliot was a banker. Many writers teach, and always there have been writers who have written because they needed to express their thoughts and feelings. They wrote not necessarily to make money but to express "the old universal truths of the human heart" according to Faulkner. Here I reach a wider audience I missed than by self-publishing, and I stand a better chance to reach a wider audience for less expense than self-publishing. I self-published my first books, Winter from Spring, and Meditations on Gratitude; poetry and photo books which were easier to self-publish than to seek a not to seek a publisher company. This blog allows me to write for an interested audience because I write poetry and personal essays. I write for a friendly audience and present to you a slice of my writing. Perhaps you will enjoy what you read.
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