an ode to those fleeting moments when we see ourselves relevant in an otherwise cold and bleak night... it's true, since we are finite beings, our light shines only briefly, and we do the best we can in a cruel world... as poets, we can neither stop the words from flowing, nor stop picking up the pen to enter them into our life's journal.... what we can do for those brief moments we have is to write the words that have meaning, lift up our hearts to see the way things could be and to act to bring this about.... we become irrelevant when we do nothing in the face of great wrong and ugliness that affects humanity....
Jacob, in my opinion, your keyboard may decay and become useless, but your pen will forever be relevant.... sorry about this, but reality has spoken....
Posted 2 Years Ago
2 Years Ago
maybe "have to write", yes....why am I feeling that...writing because I have to not because I want t.. read moremaybe "have to write", yes....why am I feeling that...writing because I have to not because I want to.
thank you, curt.
j.
hmm. we oft times blindly, stumble upon our appreciations. a strange irony - we all want it, work for it. (starving) artists/writers more often than not do not receive it until they've passed from this life as evidenced by people like van gogh and my muse thoreau (people thought he was nuts too and ironically he paid for the publication of his two books by making and selling pencils). i suppose that if you can write it (expression of a truth within us) and someone can read it and be touched by it in some way - that is all the relevance that matters regardless of lapse of time between the writing and reading ... :)
Posted 2 Years Ago
2 Years Ago
Thanks for the idea in review, Pete.
I think I might start selling pencils....sounds like a p.. read moreThanks for the idea in review, Pete.
I think I might start selling pencils....sounds like a plan.
thanks for your expressive response to this piece.
you are appreciated, my friend.
j.
Sadly, despite our best of efforts, all our work, our dreams and aspirations, all wielders of the quill shall eventually find themselves relegated to the dust of antiquity, a sad reality that all writers know and understand, but never like or fully accept ...
Marvin Thomas Cox-Flynn de Graham
Posted 2 Years Ago
2 Years Ago
I know my day is coming....thank you, Marve, appreciate your insights.
j.
dearest Jacob… I hear Violins playing Mozart as I read your Lines. We are living in perilous times. 💜 heartbreak is on our minds.. and yet we know that we are Spirits of the Devine. Your Talent is a Crescendo of clashing Cymbals in the midst of Storms. tenderly, Pat
Superb write dear J. You broke my heart with your final two lines. Each stanza building up to that last gasp. Yes, this is you at your brilliant best. Pulled the heart strings you did. Such an impacting write.
Originally from Bronx, NY, I live in Carbondale, Illinois...teach English at a community college and have been writing and publishing poetry since 1970. I am here to read for inspiration from other po.. more..