February 17, 2013 by musehick
An appreciation of beauty is a necessary thing for a writer. One is lucky if they have a ready source of beauty in their lives; one who wraps themselves around the outline of your own dream. But if this is not something you possess … something you lost, you will have to steal it from where you can.
Beauty isn’t hard to find, but there is something special about having a little acreage of it staked out just for you and the one that you are sharing it with. Loneliness can seep in when you have constructed a wondrous vision of possibility, but have no one to share in it with you. I have written many poems for those whom I have been in love with, but for some reason have not told. I have written poems for those who have reciprocated my feelings. I have written poems for those whom I have lost to others.
The writing of these pieces can have something of a melancholy flavour, or they can sparkle with the reflection of something that once burned brightly. I want them to be celebratory. They are of course for everyone who reads them, but what writer doesn’t entertain the fantasy that the person they are intended for will stumble across them and be bowled over? I am a romantic … a lonely romantic. By putting something aesthetic out there which crystallises the love I feel, I am confident that at some point something might happen. No one wants to live in the stalled out car of their unfulfilled hopes.