A Word about My Own Poetry

Dear Reader,

In “The Day is Done”, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow wrote:
Come, read to me some poem,
Some simple and heartfelt lay . . .
Read from some humbler poet . . .

I’m the humbler poet, if poet at all. I have read poetry all my life, as soon as I learned to read, I think. I’ve written poetry since the third grade, which the teacher took to the principal and the principal tacked up on the bulletin board. From that childish and humble beginning, I went on to win, or place, in several poetry contests over the years, and even had one published in Grit Magazine for a grand total of eight dollars.

This doesn’t mean I have the technical knowledge to write “real” poetry. Besides high school and a couple of Englishes at The College of Charleston, I have no educational background. I’ve tried to study the rudiments of poetry, but without a teacher I was lost. So the “My Own Poetry” that you will see under that heading here, will be just the culmination of all the styles I read, which are many and varied. Some will rhyme, some will not. That’s the only way I know how to categorize poetry. I also have no idea how to format a poem. I just break lines where it sounds good or seems right.

The poems here are like any other writing – you may like some, you may not. If you are a poet laureate, I doubt you’ll like any. But if you are just a plain old person who likes simple words and simple poetry, perhaps you’ll want something to “soothe this restless feeling, and banish the thoughts of day”. These “melodies” that I put out before you to pick up or discard, I’ll tell you where they came from. I heard the music in my soul.

Thanks for reading,
Your friend, Linda



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