Message in a Bottle…..

I ‘ve heard it said that ‘wine is like bottled poetry’, which I take it to mean that wine will loosen inhibitions when one partakes of it, thus bringing a seductive enjoyment to the one who imbibes. In a way I agree, for just as wine triggers a personal like or dislike to a particular brew, so too does poetry. One person may enjoy red wine and not white, and another may only like a certain wine etc etc. Thus someone may enjoy haiku poems and another not so much; some may partake of limericks whilst another will think that they are too cheap and lack depth. I believe it’s all a matter of personal taste. It is inhibiting to just stay with one variety of poetry when there are so many yet to be discovered and perhaps enjoyed! Therefore I am on a ‘poetry tasting trail’, keen to see just what is out there. Wheeeeeee…….!

Bottled poetry
for a personal palette
     needs to be uncorked.....

Vatic Verse…..

I have always been drawn to the prophetic in my Christian walk, with at times having visions and/or prophetic words come to me. This has been over many decades and continues today. So I was delighted to learn a new word [for me] of ‘vatic’. What I discovered was one can be a ‘vatic poet’ who writes ‘vatic poetry’. With my interest stimulated, this called for a search in the Merriam-Webster Dictionary to find out more!

‘vatic’ = prophetic; oracular

‘Some people say only thin lines separate poetry, prophecy and madness. We don’t know if that’s generally true, but it is in the case of ‘vatic’. The adjective derives directly from the Latin word ‘vates’, meaning ‘seer’ or ‘prophet’. But that Latin root is, in turn, distantly related to the Old English ‘woth’, meaning ‘poetry’; the Old German ‘wuot’ meaning ‘madness’; and the Old Irish ‘faith’ meaning both seer and prophet.’ [Merriam-Webster]

And so the Divine Unraveling continues…..

Vatic poetry
painting bold Holy vistas
for blind eyes to see.....

Thinking Out Loud…..

Whenever I’ve penned words that are serious, I am compelled afterwards to attempt to apprehend any unease, in order to soften the blow that ‘serious’ may cause. It’s a fault of mine, this smoothing of the imagined ruffled receptors of any likely readers. You see, I am afraid I might offend or injure delicate souls. Yet I suspect they are more hardy than me, and they will lightly brush off any perceived, on my part, offense. Actually, truth be known I am not important, nor am I pertinent to their thoughts and already informed ideas. They may listen with feigned interest or perhaps might even enjoy some of my sharings but how is one to know? That’s the art of conversation, of the reading of poetry or storiettes – you just cannot gauge the reactions following. I think that is how it’s meant to be. So I run the gauntlet each and every time, and am slowly but surely, learning to give my ego the necessary respite from expected judgements or soothing strokes. All is well…..