Between the hours of 4:50 am (when my alarm sounds) and 6:50 am (when I rush out the door to work), my odd little mind is most fertile. Without the slightest intention, I find myself scribbling bits of poetry - some incomprehensible, most inconsequential - on whatever scrap of paper happens to be resting nearby. These slivers of guerrilla verse have begun to overtake my existence, so I've decided to give them a better resting place in this blog. I am not by inclination or discipline a blogger; perhaps I should call this a 'plog' instead.

This is wonderful. I'm going down each one, enjoying this immensely. You have this sensitivity in your poetry; a grace; a purity of heart within each verse. I can nearly hear your voice.

I'll only comment here, but want you to know that I will read them all, and enjoy them as I have this one.

Warm Regards,
George

thank you for listening to yu rdivine spark and acting upon it. your meanderings are inspiring. And this line"clarity is the gift to the persistent" is the one i Needed to hear today. straight to that place in me where truth is heard and new life awakens. Namaste and gratitude.

Not knowing you, I'm a bit surprised you didn't write He. I like the fact that you did not.

This is almost a koan. I like this immensely. It's simple and to the point, you play with mundane well, giving it a depth many people won't understand.

Don't know why Kåre and Catherine missed this. It's very well conceived and very observant. A tad too many abstract words for my personal taste, but you wield them well nonetheless.

This is superb:

lovely writing, and you've hit a hidden truth also.

superbly written iambic tetrameter. Only the enjambment between "...still relative/is how we spend...." doesn't work because it forces us out of the natural pause at the end of the iamb.

I love having moments like this. But, much like a sunny day, you can't always expect them.

reminds me of my high school English teacher... on a very important writing assignment I received a B+ when some of my classmates, who did not write as well, where given A's. When I went to talk with her about this she said "...other students received A's for turning in their best work. You, can do better." *ouch - slips on shards of glass* ... the woman gave me nightmares, but I went on to get a degree in English Literature and when she saw me at a reunion, she told me I was one of her favorite students ... so write gently with that red-ink pen... but even when you crush it will help them sparkle...

Very evocative. Very well-written.

I need to stop reading...you're making me cry. I didn't think I wanted to start a blog...but you've made me change my mind.
I love the class of your paintings.
Thanks Fee