There's an interesting phenom I've noticed of late. Folks are either ditching their blogs entirely or ditching them for a season. There's guilt about this, from the readers and the writers...I haven't blogged enough, I've blogged too much, I can't keep on keeping on. Even I took almost a week off.
While at first I had real issues with this (I'm addicted to reading y'alls blogs), I think I've come at least ALMOST full circle. And these are a few of my thoughts:
Posts are like letters. And Lord knows we don't write enough of those. They should be a delight to the writer and the reader.
(and yes, if you read me via Bloglines, I did just pull a post I wrote this morning.)
I'm feeling a little too vulnerable right now. Which is okay. I think part of our collective problem is that we are too quick to brush off--How are you? I'm fine.
Well, I'm not fine, and neither are a bunch of folks in Blacksburg, VA, though their problems and mine are not the same at all, they share one component: they are human problems. Problems with this broken, shattered, falling apart world.
So, as it is after all National Poetry Month, I leave you with these:
Gerard Manley Hopkins: Spring and Fall: to a young child; God's Grandeur; Carrion Comfort.
Elizabeth Bishop: One Art.
Oh, and Happy National Library Week.
It is difficult
to get the news from poems
yet men die miserably every day
of what is found there. (William Carlos Williams)
3 weeks ago