I have been an closet poet for years, writing for myself, occasionally for others, but never for the world. Having collected a decent handful over time, I decided it was time to challenge myself, my insecurity, my poetic ability by gently setting it on the table of the world for consumption. I don’t have any expectations. If in time, I have created enough poetry, I would consider publishing, dedicating the book to my father, my inspiration, my mentor on all things literary and beyond. I was named after Emily Dickinson after all.
My hope for you, the visitor, is that you will linger and peruse, maybe comment here and there, let me know what affects you and how, or if not, maybe a like, or if not, maybe just silently enjoy…I am honored that you have even stopped by.
One word on my poems…please dig through them, go back to the beginning, the middle, the end and see what you find…some of my favorite pieces are tucked away at the beginning (or is that the end?). Try reading them aloud, find the rhythm, your rhythm, enjoy the feeling of the words on your tongue. I like to think poetry can encompass all five senses, and maybe even more, if properly savored.
But, more than that, I just hope that something I write touches you somehow, someway, that you know we are all connected in this crazy world where emotions collide with each other and where we collide with one another and together we are one and the same.