Hello Followers! I’m returning from an unintended (but needed) summer break. Spent my summer working with at-risk teens. A rowdy job! I’m returning now with inspiration for revising my latest collection of poetry: The Archer…
I’ve condensed the book into Ecstatic Poetry, only (omitting the short stories), and added new poems that have debuted on this blog, and some that haven’t…
I chose to revise the collection for the sake of its message. This poetry is an internal process, first and foremost, and in the end, I don’t think The Archer was completed in myself, so it always felt short of its mark.
Creative license is the beauty of being an Independent Author… for any of you who are aspiring writers, Indie Publishing is a sound solution, if you’ve not found acceptance in the world of publishing otherwise.
Here are two poems from the new revision… I’m hoping my next post will announce that “The Archer” is ready for readers! Enjoy!
Authenticity
I don’t know how to navigate
where to go from here.
The defense I put up for pain
separates me from everything else.
Something in me brings me
back to the hand you put in mine…
Can we reconcile the paradoxes
of loving another person?
I must forgive myself for living half-hearted—
we live in portions
until we become free of division.
Stay with yourself. Don’t follow anyone
who expects a miracle from you
or expects the same of you…
Keep authenticity as close
as closeness.
Bond with your authenticity
and do not give it for ransom
to another feeling inside your skin.
Heartsword
When the path grows difficult
I become a cloud casting rocks
I retreat into dense earth, packed
and stoned into deserts and mountains
until my neighbors become foreigners
and friends strange beggars.
Lightning never struck such a wondrous fear
as the unknown.
The Sun never dispelled such a lovely darkness
as the nights we’ve been alone.
As old as any Soul remembers
we have unlearned lessons pouring our sorrows
into heartbreak’s poor broken cups.
I could only hear what I wanted to hear
my thirst was following a sweetness
in the sound of water.
The mistakes have been my own—
from this glitter of silver
I sold all my belongings for a dream of treasure.
What happens to a Man who misread Himself
and stumbles into a dark meadow?
Someone has been teaching birdsongs to the wolves.
There are teeth waiting in the grass.
His heart quivers in his hands
but a moment is coming
that will awaken both edges of his sword.
Rhapsody of Art 