Not long ago a writer friend of mine was venting about the anxiety he felt before beginning his next project. He’d had some small measure of success with two previous works and was starting to build a little heat within the publishing world. “Any and all positive encouragement is validating, of course, but it also … Continue reading A Prelude to Working Days
These are dark days for artists and the arts. By “artists” and “the arts” I do not mean the avant-garde stereotype of indulgent silliness. Someone overturning a silverware drawer into the opening of a piano and calling it “music.” A few haphazard strings of glass and feather collected on a coathanger presented as “sculpture.”
No, I’m talking about some of the highest forms of human expression. Music. Painting. Sculpture. Literature. Dance. Theatre. The most elevated means of creativity known to mankind. Slowly and almost certainly being pushed further and further back from the forefront of our collective thought.
What is the cause of this? What has prompted this retreat from the more sublime manifestations of our culture? Don’t we understand what such a withdrawal means — if not to our civilization as a whole but to our very souls? Indeed, without art, the crudeness of reality makes the world unbearable.
Easy goes the lonely ones who yearn only to be seen, to cornered rooms through passage ways shines light through front door screens, and darker moons make darker rooms ’till streetlights disturb our sleep. From candlelight to wildfires we dance like coals beneath our feet, and household sounds creep overhead we hear music down the … Continue reading Heart’s Last Lonely Beat
It’s a chance to cultivate, as well as encourage, a love for all things literary among local citizens.
I always wanted to be a poet… not for the fame or riches mind you (as if poetry has ever been an art form to inspire either) but because I can hardly think of a better occupation to be compensated for. For me, it’s akin to being paid for sleeping or eating, reading or writing.
Well… I guess technically I am being paid to write now, but there’s a host of peripheral responsibilities that accompany what few hours of the day I am able to devote solely to the craft of writing.
Still, the idea of writing poetry has always appealed to my soul. Granted, I’ve never been any good at it, but I’ve always passionately loved reading and writing poetry. Sometimes (on all-too-rare occasions) I’m able to unearth a clever phrase or little turn of words, though usually it just comes across as flowery and rather amateurish poetic prosing.
Last night I was sprawled out on my bed clicking and swirling my fingers over my smartphone, while my youngest son slept curled up against me. I wasn’t able to get up, for fear of waking him. Xander wasn’t feeling good and had fought against sleep for a few hours. When he finally surrendered I wasn’t going to do anything that might wake him, so I was stuck.
My thoughts wandered and a few phrases came to mind… fifteen minutes later these sonnets came burbling out almost fully formed. I was pleased with the results, so I want to post them here.
So it is the end of a long day at work and I am making the familiar drive homeward when I notice a vehicle identical to mine pass by, heading the opposite direction back toward the offices of the Henderson Daily News.
“Whoa,” I think to myself, “I can’t tell if I’m coming or going.”
It appears the make and model of my car is a common one, because I see its “relatives” quite often.
One time my daughter noticed this, remarked to me about it, saying apparently we had already gone to the grocery store and are on our way home.
I quipped in response that I didn’t think the “Einstein-Rosen Bridge” was located in Rusk County. I’m pretty sure the reference was lost on her. In fact, I’m not sure I understand it myself.
Sometimes I indulge in this absurd premise and imagine I am peering into the fabric of space-time, that I am actually given a glimpse into the many paths I travel in the course of a typical day.
Naturally it makes sense that I should pass by myself during these travels, though direct eye-contact might be a trifle awkward.
However, much like religion itself, Hallowe’en is rife with innumerate legends and mythos pervading its observance.