Poetry: i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart) by E. E. Cummings [1920]

Writing (blogging) has become difficult this last month. It never comes easily, I am a master procrastinator, but December has been especially hard. I have felt that I have not had much to say, about what I have been reading or the literary world in general. After Christmas I plan to shake this away, however, for now I shall continue my longer periods of silence.1 In the interim enjoy this poem, it’s beautiful. i carry ………

Poetry: When I have fears that I may cease to be by John Keats [1795 – 1821]

Poetry is one of the single most beautiful arts that humans have ever created. I am no expert, have no vast knowledge and am far from being well versed on the subject, however, I know what I enjoy. Poems are an expression of the soul where we lay all bare, disguised or blatant, for our peers to adore or condemn. In my teens I dabbled in writing ‘poetry’,1 some of it passable, most of it ………