blog alert: “Wild & Precious Life”

by richibi

wherein Wild & Precious Lifedescribes herself 

     “My love for poetry is simple but at the same time, hard to
      explain. I was drawn to it from an early age however, with
      questionable motives. In my young eyes, the appreciation
      of poetry personified sophistication, poise and intelligence.
      And so I became that nine year old reciting lines from Dylan
      Thomas poems even though I had yet to live enough life to
      truly understand the deeper themes. But I continued my
      poetry admiration, convinced that I looked wise beyond
      my years. Believe me,  the irony of it is not lost on me now……
      And then those life experiences that one needs to truly
      understand poetry came knocking, and at times pounding
      on my door. Some were welcomed but many were not, but
      with them came my true love of poetry.
      I now read poetry for a simple and unequivocal reason – it
      makes me feel connected to something tangible but at the
      same time larger than myself. When I am sad, overwhelmed,
      lost, lovelorn, confused, I turn to it. I’ll read a beautiful
      composition of words and suddenly realize that I am not
      the first or last person to feel such things and that calms me,
      gives me hope and makes me feel gratitude.
      That having been said, this website is a simple collection of
      beautiful words. They are poems, quotes, lyrics and excerpts
      that have resonated with me. They are words that have made
      me smile, laugh, cry and sometimes simply take pause. I hope
      you enjoy the website, lovingly titled [Wild & Precious Life] –
      the closing lines of [Mary Oliver’s The Summer Day]: 
                  Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
                            Tell me, what is it you plan to do
                  with your one wild and precious life?
what I needed to reply
      coming from a small town in the middle of
      nowhere, I aspired even then to discover
      what the rest of the world was thinking,
      admired, why had literary giants become
      legends, even archetypes, what were the
      poetry ever however seemed especially
      sterile, odes, for goodness’ sake, on 
      Grecian urns, I ask you, I, a budding
      person before the unfolding world
      abstract art too was pretty questionable, 
      though I persisted, diligently probing 
      afield for convincing, manifest, arguments,
      the world couldn’t be so wrong
      until here and there a bud would blossom,
      I now read poetry just to find out what
      other hearts are thinking    
      some say quite wonderful things   
      ever the best 
      psst:  I’ve subscribed, by the way, to your 
              Wild and Precious adventure
               many thanks