An Imperfect History
Poetry is an imperfect history,
a dance of fact and wonder,
hope and demons doing the minuet
with just a hint of music,
art and story,
make-believe with real monsters,
time travel colored by the moment,
an impossible puzzle,
as hard to decipher
as write.
About this poem
I love my readers. I mean that. I absolutely love you guys, and how often you read, comment, email me, message me, and share my poems. And more than that, I love the interpretations, and how people find meanings I never thought of.
But verse is an imperfect history for sure. Never assume it is where I am in the moment. Now and again it is, but it’s just as likely to be a memory that won’t let go, or an imagining of what it. Sometimes my saddest poems are written on good days. Sometimes my comical stuff shows up when I am in a black place.
Half truth-telling. Half playtime. Half rant and half song. That’s what it is.
But lousy history.
Tom
Tom I think you are a wonderful conduit to show satan’s chase and God’s grace! I love you back!
Just a guy Toney. But thank you.
yes….a transparent one….also a child of THE KING …. so not so much “just”
Hi Tom,
Although we never met, but I can imagine that you must be an amazing person. Your Thoughts describe Your Personality. And I am glad that I am reading You. God bless you.
You are too kind. I am just a guy trying to figure life out and spread some love along the way. But if you find something good here, then I’m a happy man.
👍