I’m not a regular visitor here, but, today I felt I shall come and sit here to have a chat with everyone.
Gina has been running out of inspiration. So, I thought why not I become the host of Come Sit With Me. These days she is having Spring in her writing spree. Each and every poem she is writing a full of passion and redefining love each and every time. When she confesses “…besides having no inspiration to write…” mentioning the phase of her life currently, I thought what…she is out of inspiration…really…
Hope to see you soon here in the cafe. So we are bustling with the current phase of our life.
There’s a saying morning shows the day. But, sometimes saying become a question, a matter of truth or not.
At the beginning of the week, there was a mail from Steve. I read it not immediately thinking he is coming up with some idea. But, it was a gloomy one because Steve has decided to have some time off from the blogosphere after his 7-Days of Mourning for the American Sailors off the coast of Japan. His words are heavy with grief and it clearly shows that how much he’s in a state of unrest and shock. Take your time Steve, your new band of soldiers is always with you to share your blue and standing beside you to make you strong.
Then on Thursday, Davy D wrote a beautiful piece on lost & found poems. He asked a question, a deeply thoughtful one–reading old poems is a bit like looking at old photographs, a snapshot of a point in time, captured in words. They represent our thoughts and emotions at the moment and although we draft and mold them, are they ever finished?
The conversation that taken place shows the affection, the emotions we have to our old self, old poem. Everyone who joined the conversation had come up with some interesting perspective.
The one that caught my fascination and somehow echoed my thoughts was of Jade M. Wong who says “…whether a poem is ever finished, I don’t believe so. Poetry will grow and change with us. It’s like when an author revises their novel 1,000 times and after re-reading it for 1,001st time, they still find things to revise. Art is never finished. It’s fluid and it flows and changes and adapts...”
Davy had responded in a beautiful manner to this and let me quote that “I often wonder if Shakespeare or Wordsworth had a chance to re-read their poetry now, would they make any adaptations?”
I had said I’ll post a compilation post for all of you to read after mentioning I had posted few here already. It was supposed to go on-blog yesterday, but, due to some popped up matters I couldn’t. But, will today or tomorrow.
I also had a conversation with Christine regarding her poem Persimmon Kisses. I was curious to know the meaning of the word “persimmon” and the conversation we had was a delightful one to me.
This week was my night shift at the office. So, I shall bid adieu. I need a sleep and before that, I need to post this. Due to tired drained mind, this post is not so loving or full of warmth like that of Gina’s. But, still, will like to hear from you.
Let me know your comments to rectify me and will you give me another chance to host ’cause words and thoughts right now not in the state of parity and I want to write few more words rather lines, but, numbed fingers and tired eyes have called off the protest.
If you think I shall host sometimes this Come Sit With Me please let me know.