Day thirteen - I love...the gift of poetry

I am a poet.

have been since about age 12, when writing grabbed me by the shoulders, shook me hard and said, "Whatever else you will be or not be, you will be this! first and foremost, a poet!"

and that is what I am.

my writing has grown and blossomed in the years since I first placed pen on paper.
I am often in awe of what I've written, as though I've been in a momentary trance, channeling the stars, taking bits of dust and nebula and building worlds. I sometimes read what I've penned and think to myself, "wow! I wrote that!?"

I write other things: blogs (obviously) essays, short stories, beginnings of novels...and those are all written on the screens of my computer...but poetry...poetry is always pen to paper. letters forming words, racing across the page, scribbles and cross-outs, and arrows drawn for lines that need to move further up or down the page...only after this furious frenzy are they typed up and saved in the digital.

In 2010, a long-held dream was realised in the publication of my first collection of poetry, Three Thousand Doors. It was terrifying, and a bit surreal. it was amazing and thrilling. Thank you to Laughing Cactus Press for helping make one of my dreams come true.

here, a piece from that collection:

Dandelion

Souls are like seeds.
Some find purchase
in the first soil that may beckon.
Others
ride bareback on the wind, 
wild and drifting
until they find
the place they belong.