Since bigjacbigjacbigjac has had to "step back" from this, in order to deal with his wife's illness, and other personal issues, I have stepped up to help hold up this poetry corner of Readers & Book Lovers.
I think I'm going to keep my 3rd Tuesday theme of writing about places and thoughts related to childhood experiences, at least, for the time being. Since I now have other Tuesdays as well, I might do a better job of sticking to that theme than I have sometimes.
I may try the idea of assigning theme ideas or prompts for some of the other weeks in a month. I think it sometimes helps to have an idea to stimulate thoughts, or even react against, if that's more productive. If anyone has ideas for topics they'd particularly like to see broached here, please send 'em along!
My poem for this week seems to have drawn from a number of influences: the diary I did yesterday for The Grieving Room, some posts about Marilyn Monroe and her poetic impulses, prompted by her birthday anniversary, that I saw on Facebook, and some percentage of miscellaneous. Read, hopefully enjoy, and respond, below the orange dingbat. (I find myself amused that "dingbat" is an actual printer's term for little divider images like our orange doodle.)
Kalliope
Means "beautiful voice" from Greek καλλος (kallos) "beauty" and οψ (ops) "voice". In Greek mythology she was a goddess of epic poetry and eloquence, one of the nine Muses.
Join us every Tuesday afternoon at the Daily Kos community political poetry club.
Your own poetry is always welcome in the comments.
Bongos, berets & turtle neck sweaters optional.
The keyboard is mightier than the sword.
Dangerous
It is always dangerous
To analyze the dead,
Since they can't speak up
To explain or defend themselves.
Yet, it seems an inevitable human instinct
To try; to grapple with what they
Seemed to be trying to tell us
With their lives, with whatever
They may have inscribed on pages,
Portrayed, painted, sculpted, or
Otherwise left behind
Of their lives,
Their work,
Their own
Efforts to
Comprehend
Existence.
We attempt to honor,
Understand what they
Attempted to say,
Stumblingly, as we all
Stumble through our days
Until we run up
Against the
Edge, the
Periphery of
Mortality, and
Dis
a
p
p
e
a
r...
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