Skip to main content

One Year on Blogger

One Year on Blogger


This week marks the one year anniversary of my Blog on Blogger.
This is my 100th post. My blogging journey has not been what I had expected. 

I’ve been surprised by the fact most of what I have written have been poems! Poems! I knew that I could write poems, but I never thought that I would spend a year reading, learning about and writing as many poems that I have. A few stories emerged from my pen this year. Stories are what I thought I would have spent the past year writing. Instead, I've mostly written poetry. 

(Several stories still sit there, waiting, some almost finished, some ambitious, some just ideas, waiting. The characters are locked away, clamoring for release.) 

Poems have emerged. Some poems have revealed themselves in dreams. Upon awaking, some poems have surfaced and flowed easily, readily, willfully onto the page. Some poems have been inspired by images in posts or by conversations in posts. Others have begun just by phrases or feelings or memories. Most poems have been labored over, emoted over, sweated over. Poems have emerged.




I have written poems about poets, about love and romance, about sadness and grief, about the seasons, about women and men, about Christmas and a few other topics. These I have enjoyed writing immensely! Some of the writing has been cathartic, allowing me to exorcise some dark thoughts and feelings. Some of it has been fond reminiscences about love and the joys and emotions involved in romance. Some of it has evoked strong feelings and emotions. The emotions have been from me and some emotions have been from you, the Readers.

The Readers! Yes, another surprising result of my year long blogging journey has been finding and meeting Readers, Readers of my poetry. I wasn’t sure how my poems would be received. I had written many poems in years past, but hadn’t written many in recent years. Readers have found my poems and have encouraged me by reading my poems. Readers have added their thoughts and feelings to my poems. For the most part, I have had positive feedback about my poetry. I don’t believe I am an expert, but I’m hoping to continue learning, growing and sharing my poems. 




The Readers! Yes, you, the Readers! I have met so many wonderful people on G+ and through my blog. You Readers of my poems, the people I interact with on an almost a daily basis! I am quite grateful for the interaction we have shared, the give and take, the online friendships we share, the laughs we share, and the tears we shed and try to hide.

I thank you all for your Readership and G+ Friendship!

Poets write poems for many reasons. Mainly, I have found, because we have to write poems. Poets write for themselves, for their Readers, for money. Poets write poems because they have found that words themselves have lives and poems want their lives to be shared with the Readers. Poets write poems because the poems have messages that the poems need delivered. Delivered first to the Poet, then to the Reader.

Poems join the ebb and flow of the life of all Poets and Readers. Poems join the flow of humanity from before time to time in eternity. Poems send words and thoughts and meanings to all Mankind. Sent from past, present and to the future. 




Poetry--the word is from the Greek work ”making”.
Poets make Poems, create Poems, release Poems.
Poetry makes Poets and Readers join in Poems.
Poems make Poets and Readers join in meaning.
Poems make meaning real to Poets and Readers.

Thanks again, dear Readers, for this past year. 
Here’s to another year of poetizing and pleasing you, the Reader!

© 2014 ajwrites57
A Long
❤ ❤ ❤

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Stephen King’s “What Writing Is”

On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft    “What Writing Is” I have written an article in another Blog summarizing several sections in Stephen King's book. This article is about another section of his intriguing book. Stephen King’s “What Writing Is” 4. What Writing Is —pp.103-107 Stephen King suggests: “Telepathy, of course.” Writing is telepathy. Telepathy is defined as “the transmission of information from one person to another without using any of our known sensory channels or physical interaction.” In modern fiction and science fiction, many superheroes and super-villains are endowed with telepathic abilities. The term was coined in 1882 by the classical scholar Frederic W. H. Myers, a founder of the Society for Psychical Research, and has remained more popular than the earlier expression thought-transference. (Wikipedia) Writing about telepathy, King suggests that we are “downstream on the time-line”. We are in the here-and-now and as he writes from the past, he

Christmas Day is here!

Christmas Day is here! Christmas toys assemble, little armies in strict array Christmas days tremble with memory's magic display Christmas ways resemble lost youth's joyous play Christmas snow remembers forgotten childhood days Christmas tinsel twinkles with the blinking colored lights Christmas memories sparkle in the yellow candlelight  Christmas tears sprinkle on the lonely winter nights Christmas years dwindle as they amble out of sight Christmas morn' sends Santa down the warm chimley, there Christmas morn' brings Jesus in the cold wood manger, dear Christmas morn' rings soundly, filled with festive cheer Christmas morn' sings loudly: Christmas Day is here! © 2014 ajwrites57 A Long ❤ ❤ ❤ Merry Christmas Card:  By Souvenir Post Card Company, New York (eBay front back) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons Soldier Image:  Brownie in Christmas Land by Marian Jack, 1922 via open clipar

old friends

old friends searched online for former friends surprised to see untimely ends friends, their spouses, moms and dads sad to see the deaths they had the inexorable tick and tock of time, leads us all to fields, sublime through twisting, turning hands of fate, soon we'll all be known as "late" years roll on, time is passed no one knows how long it lasts each life is counted out by days as friends we oft go separate ways friend's faces show the lines of age as each one turns his separate page fools fleeting time waits for no man eighty years our lives may span so count your days with special care for who knows how, who knows where our beating hearts will one day stop find old friends before they drop © 2014 ajwrites57 A Long ❤ ❤ ❤ Image adapted:  By SDRandCo via morguefile.com