I believe in being prepared for any given situation. It isn't because I'm a pessimistic person; I think it is just good common sense. Hence, I've entitled my blog "Even Nothing is Something."

This covers my butt in any event. On any given day I can feel great exaltation that I have done something grand. I can scribble fiercely when my thoughts are leaping across the meadows of my mind like a happy little colt in the month of May, or my mind and writing can be as dry and arid, as cold and without life, as the Gobi desert - because even Nothing is Something.

I want to thank all of my fellow artists who work through other means and forms and who sell their work on the wonderful artist's site "Etsy," a place to buy and sell all things handmade, along with vintage items and supplies for their craft. They are a great group of people.

Those who have links to their site on my blog represent only a few of those whom I wish to include. Just click on one of those links and join the Etsy community. It is free. They are a great group of artists who have relieved me of my money in the most delightful of ways. If it weren't for their encouragement, I would have never shared my work through this blog.

Thank you my darling friends!

Enjoy my blog - The Poet or Not - More or Less

Sunday, March 28, 2010

Blind Love

Blind Love

Blindly, we groped
for what we
thought we wanted;
instead we found
what we needed - someone
else to share the life
we didn’t know how
to live. How amazing
that we spent decades
without vision, without
love, or, more truthfully,
an unreciprocated love
because I came to
love you with a
fierceness and loyalty.
Nothing has changed
but that blindness that
I clung to, always
hoping you could find
something within me
to love, to cherish, to
protect. But, I lost
something that was
far too important to
you - the two breasts
like that of twin gazelles
that the shepherd boy
found entrancing in
his love for the comely
girl of Shulammite.
I, too, ask why should
I become like a girl in
mourning among the
droves? I should rather
like to go out like a
bag of myrrh to my
loved one who could
sleep between my breasts.