The Imitation of Christ was originally written in the Middle Ages by a monk, Thomas A. Kempis. It’s mind blowing devotional literature, to use the modern expression, but firmly in keeping with the essence of the best Christian devotional literature that points to God.Continue reading “The Imitation of Christ”
Sometimes, slight sense of irony in a sentence can add color to what would be a pedestrian line of writing and irony can brighten an otherwise flawed expression. It’s simply about the “art of writing” when one sketches art in a piece that seems flawed. Art of writing may be fused throughout the whole, ordinary, unexceptional flawed piece, to give it an air of mystery and aloofness. It is flawed prose in one sense, but how the piece is structured or designed gives an illusion of art through each line.
If I had a choice between listening to a song or reading a poem, I ‘d pick the song over a wordy poem, but I know there are readers of poetry who prefer written poetry to hearing songs. I think any poetry I write these days is fueled by my attraction to music or the sounds of music. So, I’d write like I’m hearing music or hearing a certain sound of music. My poem won’t come out like metered poetry. The sound of music itself is always nutted out by a musician and composer in the writing, much like a poet would design a poem. But, for me, my writing of poems are done by how it might sound, rather than technique. Free verse is more attuned to how I like to do poetry, like I’m writing in unison with the sounds of music, but I may say to anyone that’s it’s good to use technique in writing poetry or to at least know it well enough.
I only thought of myself,
In a moment with her.
Then I thought about what she said,
And it made me sad.
Something makes you be nice to me.
I don’t know why it is.
I guess you need acceptance
And I’m the one you seek.
I only thought of myself in a moment with you.
You only thought of me.
I was calling out, you weren’t gone;
I was too far gone,
But you stayed there with me.
Not far away, but still, right there.
I remember the day I was forlorn;
But you didn’t leave me alone,
You were always there, you were present,
Jesus stayed his Spirit never gone