Truly

Today is the Fourth Anniversary of My First Blog Post.

As I've mentioned before, this Blog began as a class project, with a poem by Langston Hughes and a quote from Erasmus, and has never looked back - figuratively speaking, that is. The quote has hung in my office for ever, (alright, almost forever) and is closer to the truth than my husband would like.

When I get a little money I buy books; and if any is left I buy food and clothes.

                                                                                                                        - Erasmus
 

Through this blog I have gained so much. I learned more than I ever expected to about computers. I discovered a world of writing - many worlds, actually. I found that information on any subject was literally at my fingertips. All the information from every side, so that I could make up my own mind. And once I lost my timidity, I discovered the most important thing - the many wonderful people I've gotten to know through this blog.

Writers, readers, critics, fans, people who ended up here accidentally while looking for something else: all have enriched my life, and I want to take a moment before I start my day to thank you and say that I hope you have gotten something in return. I hope the weeks and months ahead are filled with happiness and security. That second thing is in short supply these days.

I'll close with something that my Gran used to say:

May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind always be at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
and rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of His hand.

While Writing

      by Noelle Kocot

Someone inside says, "Get busy."
But I've got appointments to keep,
I have an abstemious love of equations calculated quickly
While the tepid day melts into design.

And the high cheekbones of the beautiful life
Bear the loose look of a calendar by lamplight.
I search for patterns in everything.
I am tied in knots of comprehension.

I think, how useful it might be
To pierce all the hands of the earth
With an oath of pins encircling snarling planets
But talent and shallowness sewn together

Is nothing but a kerchief tied around a survivalist's head,
And it helps to know the feet wriggling through a hole
In the universe will land for an instant
Upon the cushions of the dark,

And that after marching one doozy of a kilometer after another,
We each come upon the same poem scribbled in invisible ink
Taped to the door of a room
In which an austere justice is burning for us.


from: 4. Copyright 2001.

Ding,

Ding,

Ding, 

Ding,

Ding,

Ding,

Ding.

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