Just a Note
Last night I was privileged to attend a poetry event at the Shaker Heights Public Library (Bertram Woods branch). The featured readers were Jillian R. Wriston, Major Ragain, and Roger Craik - the emcee was Barry Zucker - and the close to fifty attendees included Major's mom, Jillian's dad from Detroit, Katie Daley, Jim Lang, Bree, and Steve Goldberg. It was humbling to be in the presence of so much poetic talent. And several times during the evening, particularly during Roger's reading, I felt an acute awareness that I need to focus more on my writing. I don't want to write like the best poets I know. But I yearn to write as well as the best poets I know.
To the best poets (and the best other artists and thinkers) I know, some of whom were there last night and most of whom were not (if you suspect you're one of this group, you probably are), thank you for being kind to me, for encouraging me, for stimulating my mind and inner being with your thoughts and ways of expressing them, for reading my often meager offerings when you do, and especially for being my friends.
Much obliged,
John
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CharlaXFabels
AllSaintsDay
Every Halloween people see dead relitives the headless horseman of the apocalypse tree and mee and perhaps mye brother. A new life ZOA and all things changed could mean most anything even salvation to a long dead family and ancestors come again to life iff even for a little while to show the living murderers the way. Halloween they fill the baskets of the living munchkins up with greedy gain. ALL HALLOWS EVE is close but misses mee as eye am still alive. Someone has botched the job eye breathe. Which brings me to the definition of the real holiday All Saints Day. Father, all-powerful and ever-living God, today we rejoice in the holy men and women of every time and place.
May their prayers bring us your forgiveness and love.
We ask this through our Lord Jesus Christ, Your Son,
who lives and reigns with You and the Holy Spirit,
one God, for ever and ever. Amen. Now the Fabel can begin where truth is magnified and not left off. Faith is walking on the water in a storm with nothing under feet but water and fathomes in the deep. Not yet certain about All Saints Day eye have a forgiven feeling fine blessed in all my endeavors fabeling my Brother long in grave or sometimes not iff he be saved he walks on Halloween they see my long dead brother rise the townfolk get a glimmer of a Jesus man inside because he was baptized unto religion. Eye knoe he felt forgiven perhaps as in his endevoured living he died an accidental death yet lives breathes in JESUS as well as we all come to the test. My body may be burnt to crisp in some moratorium crematorium pyre is there on the other side of the state controlled execution my head so used to eating lay severed from my flesh the nether parts the hand and feet so blessed what bothers mee is not the death my demise can make mee frown eye will have a crown of life where eye am bound no control over what they do to me perhaps a potters grave in a forgotten field of purple flowers as eye rise and walk on Halloween my Crown upon mye visage clean my Qyeen quite safe within mye heart eye sing praise unto the GOD of Life Jesus in his Heaven.
no long link just a big hug and a thannkzx yew JC happy hollowween
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Thanks, Charles! I hope you (and everyone else) had a happy Halowwen!
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Don't ever feel you have anything to apologize for.. because this short note almost sounds like an apology.
Ans it shouldn't be...
You have a wonderful gift that you share John... a style of poetry and enthusiasm for the craft that is infectious to everyone who comes into contact with you and hears you..
Just thought you aught to know that.
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Thanks, Chris. Your sentiments are much appreciated.
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Oh - I know how you feel regarding being inspired to write better, more - we have so much talent in Cleveland.
I haven't written much lately but I have faith that I will because I know that this comes in waves. The best thing I do for myself is to have experiences & read others' poetry.
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I agree. Laying fallow and gathering seeds, so to speak, is sometimes necessary while the poetic ground is prepared for the next crop. I used to think I'd never get my poetry back - that the poetic earth in me would never propuce another decent crop. Now I know that's not necessarily so. It'll come - as long as I don't do anything rash like get mad and pour gasoline all over the field in protest.
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it's always special and occasionally humbling to hear maj ragain read.
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It was the first time I'd actually met Maj, Roger, Bree and Katie (in my opinion, four of the top ten poets in the Cleveland area - and I dare say among the best in the nation. My favorite poem Maj did was one he'd just written in response to Roger's "Rhinoceros in Clumber Park." Seems like not only a great poet but a fine human being.... I gave him your regards and he asked me to give you and Lady his.
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yes, katie daley is one of the GREAT ones too. and bree is truly special.
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You're sweet. Thank you for the same.
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Thank you, and you're welcome!
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That's funny you write this. I feel this way in the presence of great poets and writers too. That includes you!
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Thank you, Jen. I feel I have potential to be a great poet - and I've written a few poems that border on great - but I'm not yet a great poet. You're too kind... but your words are much appreciated.
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I agree with the comment Jen made to you... I always feel encouraged and inspired when I hear you read your poetry, and I'm always awed and humbled by the skill, technique, and imagination you employ when writing your poems. "Meager offerings"? I don't think so. I thank you for sharing your poems, and look forward to your renewed focus on writing, and posting, them.
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You're too kind as well, Dianne. Perhaps they're not all meager. But plenty meagerness has been posted on this blog on this blog.
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I think we all doubt our own talents. I had a friend recently tell me that he was "nothing special." I only wish I had his kind of special "nothing" because he's the most talented poet I've ever met!
But the great thing about something like this blog is that you've got a whole community of friends and fellow poets who are right there where you are, just as ready to tell you that something doesn't make sense (gently, of course) as to praise you wildly and celebrate your successes...
All any of us can do is keep writing. Ray Bradbury once said, "The muse cannot resist a working writer." Sounds good to me.
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Thank you, P! I'm grateful for your kind comment.
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"I don't want to write like the best poets I know. But I yearn to write as well as the best poets I know."
I completely relate to this sentiment....and not only in regards to poetry, but in all aspects of my life. I see the people whom I respect and admire, and as much as I want to "be like" them, at the same time, I don't want to simply imitate them. I hope to manifest the same TYPES of things about them that I admire within my own life, but only over time have I gradually realized that this does not need to be accomplished through living/writing/acting/becoming exactly LIKE them. And this is and always will be a fine line to tread.
Wish I could've made it out last Thursday. I'd never heard any of those folks before, but have heard much about them.
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