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6720
Folder:
A New View .
That many pieces on postpoems - a few deleted, a few not to shabby. Most of them unpublished. Some rantings, some wishful, some of use to someone someplace.
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Six thousand seven hundred and twenty anything is way too much. For those who strive to write a hundred or five thousand, it is worth the trip. It fills in the empty spaces of lifelines, brings a pride-filled smirk to mirrors. To have shared these offerings with a few minds hopefully lit a spark or two.
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It has been fun, it has been good work. I was born to do this (and @13 novels). Publishing them was not the goal; crowding the lifeline was the point.
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To have earned the wherewith and whatall to do this since 1969 added sense to existence. Fade to Black. Ha ha. It was all cool.
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Lady A
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You lit more than a few
You lit more than a few wildfires in this old mind. As you so skillfully took inventory of your poetic journey, I looked back over the many years you've brought friendship, positive energy, fresh perspective, humor and true art to this site, and I can't imagine PostPoems without you. Too many posts? Never! I congratulate you in advance for your 7,000th post.
Thank You
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I love the smell of optimism in the morning. Like a sun almost completing its horizon vault, a glow. Up from sleep to encounter a dream. You rock!
~A~
What a brilliant, quotable
What a brilliant, quotable reply! Thank you!
Yawecum
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Ebonics for you are welcome. ;D
To more wildfires
Beautiful and tragic is the contract of existance, at least bookend to bookend in this life. You give a emotionally rich reflection on mortality, that I find works as a mirror for me, and probably will for others, as well. But, that's in addition to the reminder how fragile this all is, including what we are lucky to share together here. Know that you have my appreciation, respect and admiration from a distance, and I do hope that you make your way to #7000 and well beyond. And, yes, your words have sparked some healthy wildfires here.
Fragility
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Reminds of the heat range we must retain around us to live. Pressure is another range, like blood sugar and oxygen levels. Control those and matter falls in lock-step beside mind conditioning. We all do what nature demands, humans know power lies in owning access to nature. (Did Putin miscalc?) I referenced Beckett earlier today; faith, the only thing that over-answers everything, even imminent death, even the self-preserving instinct to run. Can't argue it, best to acknowledge and relegate the greatest questions to something writers embrace: imagination. I pray to the universe, humans play it tight to earth and lifeforms on it. Why so limited? Religion is a stairway to belief and ultimately understanding. Imagine a world where faith was banned and religion firbidden. Unholy wars would outnumber the Crusades, dwarf Genghis's billion, and be responsible for every lifeform that ever died on Sol's third born. I like a good story. If good enough, and accompanied by a pyramid, the writer will be remembered long. Heard any good Ramses or Isis jokes lately? (The other Isis):D
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Live long and in health prosper!
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Lady A
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