It’s almost the end of April, and I’ve lost another
month. It’s National Poetry Month, and I
had intended to do something on our Canandaigua Writers Group blog to tell
people about it. For myself, I started
an email subscription to The Writer’s Almanac after the first week in April,
and one poem is now sent to my email every day.
For several years, usually on Saturday mornings, I have listened to the
poems being read by Garrison Keillor on WXXI, but my schedule the rest of the
week does not permit that. So, I
subscribed, hesitantly, to another email.
Poems began arriving the same day, once a day, and have continued
without fail. I view their arrival with
mixed feelings.
Sometimes the poem of the day is an imposition when I
consider all of the other emails that require my attention and my other long
list of things “to do.” But then I
remember that life is short, and I never make enough time to do the fun things,
like writing or reading what other writers write. And so I click the mouse to open the poem of
the day.
For a moment, as I wait for it to appear, I am in
suspense. Like an adventurer about to
take the first step of an important journey, I am suspended for a moment in
time, wondering. What will I see along
the way? How will it make me feel? Will it touch my soul or my funny bone? Will it
make me laugh or cry, or recall some event long-forgotten? Will I feel safe and secure, or will I feel
nothing at all? There’s no way to
predict what will happen, and in some ways, I enjoy being held captive by these
moments of forced waiting, slowing down, watching carefully for the apparition
on my screen, suspense building.
Finally, the poem appears. What does it say? Does the title give me a clue? Do I like or recognize the author’s
name? Does the first line capture my
attention? As I let myself fall into the
words, I absorb them and the writer’s emotions.
I join that writer on a journey, hoping that we shall remain on the same
trail until our journey’s destination.
I enjoy some poems more than others. I prefer rhyming poetry over free verse. It took me a long time to believe that free
verse is poetry. I would classify some
poems as essays or something else entirely.
Nevertheless, I enjoy reading the thoughts of other writers. I enjoy being reminded that I am one of
countless members of an ever-increasing and remarkable group. I enjoy being reminded of who I am: I am a writer!
Mine is one of the many voices in the Universe. . . .
Voices in
the Universe
Inspired and inspiring,
Giving voice to thoughts circling
like planets,
To words traveling like stars in the
galaxies of our minds:
Always there,
Moving and gathering,
Varying in speed and intensity and
visibility,
Sometimes elusive,
But, given enough time,
Able to be caught and flung out to
the world,
Ready or not,
A scattering of brilliance into
eternity.
©29 April 2016 Diane S. Jones
