ThePoet's Profile

About

Hello to all you very talented people! My art is with words while all of you make the most beautiful and useful of things, much more popular than poetry these days. (sigh)

My husband and I have a home in the Pocono Mts of Pennsylvania USA. I also rent an apartment in the nearby little city of Wilkes-Barre. I love the mountains and the deer, bear and turkey that walk across our property. I love all the trees and the twinkling stars at night. But, alas, I'm a city girl at heart. I missed the concrete, sounds of traffic and noisy neighbors so I spend most of my time here with my writing, research and reading. I have a huge living room window with a view of some different mountain and that suits me very well. My apartment is in a high-rise for the elderly and disabled so the rent is really cheap.

I live here with my Service/Working dog named Putz…

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  • Female
  • Born on September 29
  • Joined October 17, 2008

Favorite materials

natural fabrics such as cotton, wool especially cashmere, alpaca and lambswool and merino

About

Hello to all you very talented people! My art is with words while all of you make the most beautiful and useful of things, much more popular than poetry these days. (sigh)

My husband and I have a home in the Pocono Mts of Pennsylvania USA. I also rent an apartment in the nearby little city of Wilkes-Barre. I love the mountains and the deer, bear and turkey that walk across our property. I love all the trees and the twinkling stars at night. But, alas, I'm a city girl at heart. I missed the concrete, sounds of traffic and noisy neighbors so I spend most of my time here with my writing, research and reading. I have a huge living room window with a view of some different mountain and that suits me very well. My apartment is in a high-rise for the elderly and disabled so the rent is really cheap.

I live here with my Service/Working dog named Putz and my husband comes here to stay quite frequently. I'm 51 years of age (notice I avoided the use of the word "old". Although I love people my most chosen way of contacting other beings of the human race is via the internet and email. Otherwise, I'm somewhat reclusive, as are many writers, particularly poets.

Cancer has also been with me but I've learned it is just a word and not a death sentence. I like the fact that I don't have to shave my legs since all of my hair is gone. I do rather miss having hair on my noggin. After chemo I will be happy if I grow feathers, much less hair.

This is my attitude toward my craft:

A Poet’s Promise

A poet’s task is to chisel words into a singular sort of language, something understood by an instrumental cry sent forth to the heart of another, something expressive to all of humanity. We articulate what others cannot and speak to the Soul of those who read our artfully chosen linguistic Liniment by which the poet hopes to heal those who interpret and assimilate for themselves a soothing balm of musicality within the sphere of thought. A poet promises
to never hide his pain, to always share an honest turn of phrase.

I am fascinated by the talents of others, talents that I don't possess and admire. One of these is the composition of music. It quite intrigues me how an individual can take an instrument and from their heart and mind create a melody, some so fantastic they make us cry. So, in honor of those with such talent I wrote the following poem which I offer to my Etsy friends as a sample of my own work with words. The form is a bit off because the lines pasted to this window different from the original.

The Composer of Music

The Composer, Tranquil, under his Own Spell, Hears,Inaudible to us, a Medley of Scattered Fragments soon to be arranged into a Harmonium of His Own Vision.

Ingenious and Pregnant with Melodious Refrains, giving Birth to a Meter, Soporific or Thunderous, just As He Interprets the Conception of His Inner Chorus of Sonorous Changes,

Orchestral Inclinations, the Originality Of a Masterpiece, an Artistic Celebration Culled
From His Keen Instrumental Talent and Ear for Music.

The Composer, Note by Note, Phrase by Phrase, selects A Symphonic Tone, a Joy of Fresh Cords,
Repeated and then, perhaps, Altered in Rhythm to impart

Something new, only to Repeat this very Phrase in its Original form. The Composer listens to a Perpetual And Blissful Motion of a Profundity of Sound that Surfaces

From his Individual Existence. From a Strange Country, He temporarily leaves Reality to Visit a Universe All His Own and in His Generosity he Leads us from

Star to Star, Transporting His Audience to a New WorldOf Euphony Transposed into a Musical Speech
Made understandable by all the Forces which He brings

To His Creative Efforts. Animated Instruments, of which He is a part, Orchestrate that Singular Sound that Has been made Free from the Language of The Composer’s

Peculiar Province, Different from all others, yet Recognizable By the Exquisite, Unique Originality of The Composer’s
Eternal Serenade, Never Ending, always Fresh,

Incapable Of Expression by human speech, but Always Recognizable In an Undercurrent, as His Alone, Identifiable By His chosen Notes and Phrases, just as Conspicuous as

The Colors and Strokes Chosen by Inspiration of A Master Painter In whose work we find Acquaintance, a certain characteristic,
Distinguishable, Unmistakable Art. Music

Composes the very Soul of The Composer, making Him Eternally Visible to His Champions, Always Alive though Centuries may Pass. The Piano Plays.

From where did it come? Where did He Hear It. . . This Composer of Music?

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