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View Diary: Atheist holiday traditions (50 comments)

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  •  I gotta do this: (6+ / 0-)
     
    Walking in an empty city
    ...drunks and junkies,
    queers like me,
    hopeless urbanites all.

    The young suburban adventurers
    have all gone home to Christmas trees.  

    Nothing open except a few bars,
    and the drugstore,
    infrequent cars
    and no bus;
    the cold December air
    wet with new rain.  

    That's solid poetry!

    I hope it's okay
    that I gave it that edit,
    just for this comment thread,
    on a cold Christmas morning.

    Thanks for writing it.

    I think I know the feeling,
    maybe a little.

    Thanks again.

    •  To both of you: (3+ / 0-)

      Very, very nice. Bravo!

    •  heh (1+ / 0-)
      Recommended by:
      bigjacbigjacbigjac

      that was sweet of you!  I think I'd probably spare it down a little if I'd been so ambitious as to think it deserved line breaks :}  But I had to smile this morning, seeing that, probably the nicest response I've gotten to any comment, ever.

      ...j'ai découvert que tout le malheur des hommes vient d'une seule chose, qui est de ne savoir pas demeurer en repos dans une chambre.

      by jessical on Tue Dec 25, 2012 at 07:42:41 AM PST

      [ Parent ]

      •  Ever since I wrote this diary: (1+ / 0-)
        Recommended by:
        jessical

        http://www.dailykos.com/...

         He called about ten times a day,
        I would try to listen to his messages,
        and I couldn't,
        because,
        right in the middle of trying to get through the backlog
        of eight messages,
        he would call,
        again,
        and interrupt the process
        of checking the messages
        from him.

        Of course,
        it's not hard to figure out
        why he called me so much.

        He was bored,
        and he loved me.

        He adored me.

        At the first of every month,
        I would take him to the pawn shop,
        a few blocks away,
        where he would cash his SSI check,
        and pay his celphone bill,
        and get a money order for his rent.

        Then I would take him to the landlord,
        to give them the money order,
        and to the cable company,
        to pay his cable bill.  

         

        That diary marked the turning point,
        when my readers convinced me
        that I can write poetry,
        words that make folks cry,
        when I want them to,
        or make them feel good,
        when I want them to.

        One of the best things
        about feeling certain
        that I'm an artist of sorts,
        is that I feel,
        deep down,
        that I can recognize
        solid,
        effective art
        when I see it,
        when I read it.

        I gave you all this background,
        about me,
        to persuade you
        that you
        wrote a solid piece of poetry.

        I gave it line breaks,
        I added two words,
        I changed some punctuation.

        But you wrote it.

        I like poetry;
        I think everyone should try it.

        I wish I could teach writing
        to college freshmen,
        but I have no college degree,
        and you need a masters to teach
        at university level.

        I daydream about speaking to a class,
        as a guest speaker.

        Maybe someday,
        maybe soon.

        Thanks again.

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