Wednesday, August 08, 2007

The Experiment

Cousins,
I don't post personal notes here often, but I thought I would ruminate for a minute or two with you.

This blog is an experiment in many ways.  I'd like to think of myself as a modern day explorer in some ways.  Trying a new medium that not everyone is willing to try.  Many writers are reluctant to write on the internet because they fear that their "stuff" will be stolen and taken away to other sites, claimed by other people.  I suspect that can happen to me too, I have never looked to see if any ragged verse appears anywhere without my name attached.  I know my name has shown up elsewhere with some of my verses.

You see, I desire to be read.  I could write my heart out, day and night and never have anyone see it.  Most writers do just that.  Sometimes they go to a writer's group and read for 10 or 15 other writers who sit and critique their writing.  I don't much care for other writer's opinions.  What I do enjoy is seeing the 3-4 thousand hits on this site every month.  That tells me someone is reading.

I see myself as a illustrator, not a Norman Rockwell, but like that- telling a story, making you feel as you read what I might feel when I look at a Norman Rockwell painting.  I want to make you, the reader feel like you can see what I write.  I want your mind to see the hills of home, feel the breeze on the porch on a hot summer day, smell the smell of old leather in a century old barn.

I don't always respond to folks when they write.  I don't post your responses on here when you submit them.  That isn't what this is about.  I don't want this space filled with pictures of me or little notes to you about my life or stuff.  I want it to be a note to you... from me that you can read, see, taste, hear and feel.

So, forgive me if I don't always respond.  I love to hear from you... especially those of you who have stayed with me forever, you know who you are.  Take the time to let me know someone is out there.  I might surprise you!

My Best,
Stephen

Tuesday, August 07, 2007

Rain Doves

I heard the rain doves early this morning
The cried softly as dawn rolled toward me
Not like the brayin' of an ol' rooster
Not to wake folks up or interrupt dreams
More like to mourn the day.

I wondered to myself about the sounds of mournin'
Then realized it was a long way from home
Too far from the hills I call home.
The warmth of an old cabin
The smiles of country folks
And a hand thrown up in passin'.

No wonder the rain doves cry.