Lately I have dwelt less in photography and more into poetry. The crafting of words brings as much, if not more satisfaction than crouching before a swallowtail. I love to take a rhyme pattern and attempt to conform the words into the structure. It is often quite the enjoyable struggle to make the lines flow with intellible thought.
My two favorite books are the dictionary and thesarsus.
The expanding of the vocabulary a joyful exploration as new ways of expressing thought,
as finding new colors for a painting.
I do by no means claim to have a corner on poetry. Like photography, I am but a mere
kindergarten student. Poetry is my way of connecting with this world, a way I find confortable
and familiar. I shun the direct and obvious for the metaphor, the sonnet, the allegory,
the mystery. Daily we get enough of the harsh, the vulgur, the obvious.
We all need a poem to retreat into, a rhyme in the erratic.
In all that I endeavor to do, whether poetry, photography or any other form of artistry,
if one bit of magic is projected to you, and you in turn pass the magic along, then together we
have played a part in the making of the poetry of life.
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