***
It has been suggested to me by several people that my new circumstances in life will ultimately yield a surprising benefit: a certain lightening, shall we say, of the tenor of my writing. In other words, the absence of a party whose dominant mode was depression and anger is going to have a salutary effect not only in my life, but in the way I write as well.
Hope they're right.
But I was thinking about posting a poem (the last one I was moved to write, which doesn't happen all that frequently these days, now that I seem to have lost the hormonal rush or whatever it was that once upon a time caused me to spill out poems at a frightening rate). This poem was created in the olden days, two years ago. It's dark and sad. Or at least I think it is: I will admit that it makes its own author cry every time she reads it. That may be a result of the writing, or it may be the subject, which is dogs, and . . . death.
What say you? Should I put it up here?
Hope they're right.
But I was thinking about posting a poem (the last one I was moved to write, which doesn't happen all that frequently these days, now that I seem to have lost the hormonal rush or whatever it was that once upon a time caused me to spill out poems at a frightening rate). This poem was created in the olden days, two years ago. It's dark and sad. Or at least I think it is: I will admit that it makes its own author cry every time she reads it. That may be a result of the writing, or it may be the subject, which is dogs, and . . . death.
What say you? Should I put it up here?
2 comments:
Well now you have to put it up. I want to read it.
ditto.
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