As Writers, Why Do We Blog? #nationalpoetryday #5years #blogging #poetry

 

Join me for a moment as I reflect on my 1600th post (on this blog alone) and the 5 year mile marker. I’ve come almost full circle on a colorful and interesting ride.

 

What I’ve learned about blogging as a poet:

When I first started blogging, I joined an on-line poetry community. It was supposedly very active for a poetry group. We would put our poetry directly on the site – this was before Linky came into being. I rarely got a comment. I finally met one other person who liked to discuss poetry – one person to give me scraps of insight. The one thing I gained was the “nerve” to post what I had written on a public wall. I’m pretty private about the stuff that comes from my heart and soul.

The next poetry community I found was growing quickly( obviously there was a vacuum when it came to creative sites.) It was a good place to meet people, the hostess was nice, and the number of comments you got each week grew exponentially. My skills as a script writer (or commentor) were unnecessary as the comments ranged from “nice poem” to “I like your poem.”

Poetry is an unusual form of creative writing as it evokes different feelings from people.

Consider this phrase:

he knocked on her door once

she was unable to answer

the next time he came

her bags were packed…

Depending on where you are standing, “He” and “it” can mean vastly different things. For one person, this can be romantic for another dark, and yet another person may think of the inevitability of change. I was thinking about death. If you tell me”you liked the poem”, I gather the poem said little or nothing to you.

Poets like to (at least occasionally) see what window they have opened for the viewer. “I like your poem” is a closed window.

The next poetry community was one I decided to form (after attending a writer’s conference.) I birthed the idea for two reasons: I was tired of 20 “I like your poem” comments and I wanted a pilot (practice) for writers in the special needs community. The pilot was called One Stop Poetry. The goal:  to inspire emerging poets to write and get feedback and give existing poets a place to get and give feedback. We (the 3 “ms” and a “D”) never expected to grow like a weed and did not have the plan in place to handle the massive numbers that we were gaining. In a matter of months, we went from one day of poets sharing their work to a week-long format with articles about form, articles about poets, photography, art, chat rooms on twitter… In 6 months, we had thousands of followers (which meant 100s of comments in any given day.) In 8 months, we had won an international award in the arts.  I had interviews and a meeting scheduled (with a financial backer) to discuss creating an on-line poetry (arts) program for children.

In 12 months – Too much too soon never ends well. I’m still not sure why the train was derailed (and a poetry community shut down). I did hear rumors that I was very sick. To anyone who was part of One Stop Poetry (who is reading this) I am grateful for the ride and the relationships with fine and talented individuals.  The next year was a hard year. I got the advice “stop blogging.” I almost did – I was stalked, hacked, someone had borrowed my identity…  I asked the proverbial question, ” What have I done wrong?” Looking back – nothing! What is the saying: “Imitation is the highest form of flattery…” There are other blog sites today that branched off with poets that had met at One Stop. How wonderful that people met through something I was part of.

Sadly, blogging does have its problems like piracy, identity theft, and other mean things that inhabit the real world, but it also has some truly fine people.

The next poetry community I entered into was a wonderful haiku community that was unobtrusive and challenging to my writing skills. I laugh because haiku, since I was 10, has been a daunting task. I’d offer to do the artwork if the teacher would let me off the hook, as I felt incapable of writing a poem in 17 syllables that said “something.” If you haven’t written haiku – and you want to be a serious writer- take some time in that pursuit. I read the most beautiful, full stories in 17 syllables. I’ve met gifted and kind people who deserve hugs and a huge  thanks.

Then I actually found myself bending back on myself. I’m a writer and I always have been. My blog started because I was sad about the closing of a independent(international) radio station that several of us had high hopes for. I wrote the sketches for the children’s hour. When we closed, I had a huge void.

And here I am looking at myself 5 years hence: The book I wrote (almost 5 years ago for special needs children) should be published soonish, I have returned to my study and pursuit of art after a long haitus, My stories with my favorite co-author are being published in other countries for education (I just sent off book 1 of 3), and I found a wonderful artist to illustrate two dragon series in the final development stages.

What did I gain?  A better look at myself, a deeper love for poetry and haiku, really amazing friends and co-writers, and so very much more…

After five years of blogging, I still get the occasional comment “nice poem.” Now I chuckle and remember back to the beginning.

In the next five years, I hope to still write poetry here. I also hope to get my little dragon book into the hands of boys and girls. We are excited to see what comes from this dragon with a big heart. If you want to see a piece of what we are doing visit Dragon Tales and Scales

smiling-pet

The artwork © moondust designs ’14

Celebrate Poets #poetsday #poetry #poets

poetry

To poets near and far

the images you paint

with words and feelings

my reason taint

minds strive to think

hearts to moan

on cold nights

we shiver alone

the words you’ve penned

o’er centuries

palpate my heart

bring to my knees

soar high the earth

plunge in the deep

and with ink drops

a promise keep

*

“cheers to you poets

young, dead and old

to words you cherish

and those you’ve told

true to your task

forge on wordsmith

this of you I ask

and with your pen forever dip”

*

 


There are so many who have inspired: Edgar Allen Poe, Sylvia Plath, TagoreCharles Martin, Pen of the Damned, Poets United, One Stop Poetry, Carpe Diem and oh so many more…

Regale the DAY!!!

Poet’s Day

*

*

Our voices echo, magnifying your arrival

In a drafty museum, your nakedness

Shadows our safety.

We stand round blankly as  walls

~Sylvia Plath

(Stanza from “Morning Song”)

The Chapters of Today #oneshotwednesday

We closed the chapter yesterday

you were a whisper away

smiling during the dedication

catching prism-like reflection

a loving and tearful display

***

I turned a page in my life today

a new script to unfold

catching friends bloom ~a glance

butterflies in a regal dance

many stories yet untold

***

There was a book they say

filled with colorful array

it represented forever

we embraced it together

we continue to  play

 

Yesterday we buried a dear friend who lost the battle with cancer, today I bury a dream called One Stop Poetry, tomorrow a new dream, a new chapter will unfold for each of us.

To each of you who has supported One Stop Poetry and a crazy dream thank you; to my team wishing you the best as you pursue new heights – all my love to each of you.

My dreams and life are changing but in an exciting way: I am moving back to San Francisco – my home where I will care for my aging mother and where I will heal from a respiratory disease that salt air “wonderfully” cures, I am returning to my studies an an artist with my mentor; my books for special needs children will  be moving forward to publication; my dream to see artists realize their dreams will continue and hopefully take wing.

 

Please join us for a farewell to One Stop Poetry

 

Ode To a Writer #oneshotwednesday

Ode to the Writer

You’ve seen me in print
Reading parts of my type
Thinking my words
reflect what I am like
*
points misread
lies between the lines
mere complications
Space and time
***
you’ve read into words
sometimes that will be
When you misunderstand
What you think you see
***
please realize
I’m not who you believe
You never really saw
The unknown person – me

*

*

I wrote this weeks ago for a site that was doing a feature of me on a VLOG. It was fun as the writer in the poem was just a person. Today I spoke with a co-author/ dear friend. We  had big dreams and lived some. She helped start and I wrote for a small international radio station ( still operating). We wrote several books (  paid for  printing); they have been distributed  all over the world. You may know who I am today – but who I will become and where I was before there ever was Moondustwriter – well hmmm we shall see.

We are into week 54 of One Shot Wednesday having just celebrated a year of being.

Please join us and take some time to read fantastic poetry.

Thanks to Leah Jones http://www.flickr.com/photos/accidentallyjewish/2337869818/

Pain – Fear – Cancer #oneshotwednesday #poetry #cancer

How do you douse 20 years of pain

that falls like sheets of  pouring rain?

with a needle, a pill

or  a strong stubborn will?

***

How do you face unfaceable fear?

the adversary today certainly not clear

A shotgun, a dagger

an act, a feigned swagger?

**

How do you battle multiple growths of  Cancer?

For so many I wish I held the answer

strong arms  a bucket for the tears

truck load of warm loving prayers

****

To you who suffer there is no plan but there is in fact a place to turn.

I’ve heard there were no atheists in the foxhole.

I assure you there are few who don’t seek the strong arms of a God in a Cancer ward.

As I write this, I am packing to go to a cancer hospital to find out where my cancer is at.

( I do believe in miracles;  I have experienced way too many to not believe in victory.)

When I face fear I get rather cold and distant – if any of you have felt this from me please don’t take it personally.

I guess this would constitute as a gray poem not dark

Happy One Shot to all and thanks to each for their contribution.

Thanks for the photo of this grafitti piece: http://www.flickr.com/photos/wilderdom/266650346/

Drawn Together… #oneshotwednesday #poetry

My first sweep of your jawline

a shade around your nose

caught on your eyes

what happened who knows

**

I sketched until dawn

a face that I’d rendered

then why were my lips

shaking and tender

***

I peered deeper

you looked back at me

what had I done

had I set my love free?

**

To settle on a face

the one of my dreams

Oh what a fool

to believe in such schemes

**

I continued to draw

each night until dawn

nothing changed

what had gone wrong?

***

Hearing a sound

before the sun rose

a knock on the door

could it be? I don’t know

***

There you stood

rays circling your face

the man in my drawing

it was you in this place

I recently started drawing again. I have spent hours, days on a face. I imagined what it would be like to draw someone into existence ~ Voila!

It is celebration time – One Stop Poetry is one year old. Join the talented community of poets – share your work with us today!

Dave Kleinschmidt http://www.flickr.com/photos/dklein/20383096/

Killer Headlines – beginning of my short #amwriting

LOCAL CREW UNCOVERS HUMAN SKULL

The headlines not only drew my attention but sent chills and a sense of foreboding into the recesses of my mind; for some reason this murder felt personal.

“Authorities revealed that the skull belongs to a San Francisco man who has been missing for 3 years. His family and his business partner were unavailable for comment. No motive has yet been unearthed. The rest of his body has yet to be discovered.” 

I looked at my college bound daughter with a frown.  “What if that was Hank?” My mind whirred. Hank and I had gone to school together in the City. Recently, I had heard that he had been missing for some time. I tried to shake off the sense of foreboding; I couldnt identify it but whatever it was it was in the waiting room with us.

My daughter pulled me away from my dark ponderings. “Sounds like a great CSI case”  my daughter said dryly. I’m glad we are going home on the train tonight. That story makes me feel sick to my stomach.

Coming from my daughter, I was surprised. Kaylene was always pragmatic rarely showing emotion. All her emotion was saved for the stage where there was always high drama. And I also noticed her face had gone more pale than usual. “Hmm odd.”

I heard the train whistle in the distance; I too was grateful to be leaving for I knew this murder and the news would consume this small town.

 

******

… and here is the beginning of a story I hope to get published this fall. The story is fictional but is inspired by true events that occurred on a recent train trip to Oregon. It was too good to pass up a write…

Also be sure to ck out One Stop Poetry where more can join in the fun