Ode to Those Who Reveal Reality.

Blog buddies are rich veins of ore discovered by a miner after hacking away, alone, cold and hungry for a period of time in the darkness of the Blogosphere.  Blog buddies show up and provide recognition, encouragement and respect with precise timing and sensitivity.

Soul Dipper was born into the Blogosphere with claw marks in the airwaves; its purpose Divinely unclear.  I’m grateful for a landing that didn’t cause it to crumple.  But how did Soul Dipper end up with a bunch of eloquent poets as its buddies?  Soul Dipper is primarily about stories and still these poets diligently visit and show their support.  One poem, Bountiful Through Brokenness, brought poetic comments sufficient to give hope of knocking Tennyson out of commission.

Therefore, this post is dedicated to my poetic Blog Buddies:    I love reading your words.  I love the depth you reach with so few words.  I suspect you have all been to a Word Sale and were determined to exchange no more than one fresh fish for a bag of words.

And that’s the rub.  You teach me.  You remind me to shave, cut, polish, eliminate, delete and give up that one electric phrase, no matter its creative promise.

To all those poets in my bloggerhood (who I consider “Jingle’s Jewels”), please know I read you faithfully.  Trouble is, I feel so ill-equipped and under-qualified to comment on your incredible work:

Soul Dipper's Landing Pad

Thank You – My Poetic  Blogger Buddies

A concept grew  organically –

Fly AirWord.

No flight plan, only trust.

Divinely nagged,

creatively sparked,

finally on board.

Now in flight,

passion grabbed the parachute.

Hesitant to leap,

glimpsed Death hiding in a cloak of safety.

No decision, no choice.

Jump!

Leaving destination

to Gods of Pen and Prose.

Voices?

People gathered on stars

riding the light to greet me –

approaching with gentle curiosity.

Landing on a teardrop of joy,

I fell into a pool of poets

Who lift veils of ordinary,

revealing intensities

of reality.

In spite of

my lack of metaphor

or assonance assertion,

they welcomed me as one

of their own.

My scattered, non-shattered talent

Rejoices in salve ministered by poetic souls,

Having blushed,

and brushed myself off,

I ask:

What have I to give to these smithies of smoothness?

Oh! I know!

I can make a promise:

I’ll stick with prose.