20 Lines A Day

A Community of Writers and Photographers


On Poetry and Gratitude

I used to think that the metaphors and ideas in my head were merely ways I entertained myself.  That the imagery and games I played with words were child-like ways I had of viewing the world.

And maybe they are.  Maybe all I am doing is spinning wheels and creating horses out of thin air and so much sand.

But maybe … maybe there is another reason.  For those of us that write poetry or, for that matter, create any kind of art … Maybe we are supposed to write or create and make havoc and merry.  Maybe we are supposed to create something out of nothing.  Beauty out of pain.

Maybe through art we find our shared experience, our sense of community, a common bond.  I think of this community and I am awed by the fact that we wrap ourselves around the globe, yet so many of your offerings resonate, or teach.

Someone told me I was a poet, finally.  He’d read enough of my writing and train of thought and he looked at me and said it as if it was as plain as the nose on my face.  And once my beloved Poet told me that I was a poet, I felt something click inside.  A piece of the puzzle locked into place.  Or the world unhinged and swung open.  Or both.

I believed him.  I believed him, embraced it, take it seriously and I am all in.  I am committed to the work of becoming a better writer, a stronger writer, to write bravely when I feel afraid.  I am equally committed to lifting other writers, other artists, to give them a voice and a space to work on their craft.

I haven’t been writing lately like I should, and the reasons why are many and as varied as flavors of ice cream, or shades of blue.  But knowing you are here inspires me.  I see the magnitude of your work, this outpouring of time, effort, energy and creativity  that is rich and vast and interesting and unexpected.

This place, and each of you, make me happy.  You delight me.  You feel like family and neighbors.  I am always glad to see each and every one of you.

I hope you find nourishment here, too.

I believe in saying thank you but perhaps I do not say it often enough.

Over here in America it is the season of thankfulness, a gentle time to let the people in our lives let them know how much we appreciate them.

So thank you, contributors, followers, and readers, from the bottom of my heart.  I am thankful for you all.


1 Comment


I dream of things beyond my reach

Though on them I try not to dwell

I’m thankful for the blessings each

But my heart’s not an empty shell


I long for love to hold me tight

To laugh and cry along with me

To comfort me throughout the night

I fear it’s never meant to be


I’m thankful, though, as said above

And try to dwell on that instead

For in my heart, I have known love

And each new day, I do not dread


There is a hope that lives within

And every day, I still can smile

That hope it keeps me moving on

In happy times, and every trial


But even so, it must be said

The dreams, I still will hold on to

Long as I’m living, and not dead

I still believe in them, do you?


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