Oops. I’m sitting here at the end of the day listening to Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. Along with the music is a video. Both the music and the video are breathtaking. That’s why I say oops. Basically, I am reveling in the beauty of the music and the art. And in essence, I am caught, exposed, amid my fascination. My heart wants to take flight, my soul wishes to embrace the universe. Is there not agony with the ecstasy? Can one be so enraptured by a single note or visual cue, a memory, a scent? I don’t know. Is the poet’s soul cursed with being alive both with what can be seen, heard, felt, visualized, or imagined, and with life itself? I am unsure. I simply know that there is a difference between the two but cannot explain the difference, can you?
Published by Gordon
I would hope that anyone who reads my poetry understands that I write what comes to my mind and it doesn't mean I'm the reality of the words. I mean that just because I write about alcoholism does not mean I am the character in the poems. I write about those I've known and those I know and a very wide grouping that is of sinners and saints, those who know who and where they are going and those who are completely lost. I am empathic. I write in the first person because I feel the reality of what I am writing about. Like Dean Martin pretending to be drunk while performing I am not what it may seem. Just a thought as I know some out there who read what I write see the words and not the art or the understanding of the problem I am commenting on, nor do they understand that the comment is for the purpose of illustration and not my own personal reality. Married to a wonderful woman who is my best friend. Ronald Reagan Conservative Republican. Masters of Accounting-Taxation, United States Marine, taught for 10 years at the University of South Florida, held the following professional certifications: CPA, CVA, CFA. Published author, currently writing three novels and a ton of poems. View all posts by Gordon
