Personal writing is…

…perhaps different from any other type. When the subject finds itself close to home it may be difficult for some. I have never had such a problem, however, I have a peculiar brain, I have been told, and as such, I’m not always directly engaged with the events around me, as would be most people. I mostly jest about embarrassment at writing from the personal or writing about me from the halcyon perspective of my sweetheart. But this has most definitely been a week or two of very personal writing.

I sometimes muse regarding how very surprised those very few followers that read my entries closely might be if they knew the extent of the varied voices in which I have written or am able to write. What happens here on this trio of blogs I have been maintaining is quite a bit different from that which I more often prefer.

Old Babylon (prelude and the Main in entirety)

Why not? Why indeed? Most kind of you to post your unfinished work. Many fear to do such a thing. I love, myself, reading unedited or even self-edited work, There is a feel to it, which one grows to love; and, once loved, free’s one of the allure of professionally published work; which, afterall, is merely the same work gone over by a professional eye in view of publication. But to see the work before this has been done. Is to see, as it were “the real thing.”

Day (367) – Another Story

How very sweet!

The Better Man Project

When I was in kindergarten, there was this girl I had a crush on. I knew she liked me because she used to chase me around the playground. We used to play kickball and of course, as you can imagine, kindergarten romance involved “koodies” and plenty of teasing when it came to the opposite gender. I remember one day we were sitting down outside of class against the wall waiting for our parents to come and all of the sudden–she kissed me on the cheek. Woah!

Two days later, she pushed me into a rose bush that was the king of all rose bushes. I actually fell completely into this thing and was sitting there in pure pain. After pulling myself out, I had to go home because my cuts and scrapes were so bad. This is not a story about romance–although I found out at a very young age…

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On falling in love (and why it’s so hard on the knees):

And then there are the ones who are more quiet still. Never come close. Perhaps they may admire you from afar and are too shy to speak, perhaps to anyone, let alone someone who delights their eye and soul as well. Perhaps, they are not able to do eve that, because they cannot imagine that your friendliness, or even your general lack of cruelty toward them, is directed, perhaps, or intended as an overture of friendship.

Foolish they might be called, but only one who knows but does not act, is truly a fool.
Although, foolish we feel–as of course, I, a little science boy, was one of them.

Such that I was adored by my sweetheart for more than 5 years before either of us spoke more than a few words to each other.

The rest, as goes the saying, is history. And I am so very fortunate that my reticence–that looked like foolishness, but was not; and that about which I should not feel foolish in retrospect, but do–did not result in two lost souls; incomplete; forever searching for their other half. One never to know how close he was; the other, never having understood his reticence.

Bring On The Dancing Horses

My heartfelt congratulations to the author on the event of his daughter’s wedding.

Most sincerely yours,

David Emeron


This Saturday my oldest daughter is getting married. I don’t really know the young man very well, but he seems a decent enough sort, and my daughter is a savvy young woman, I trust her judgement.

I’m excited for them, really.  I think they will have a good life together–not an easy life, mind you, no one really gets that–they have plans that seem reasonable and achievable to me.  Life is going to kick them in the teeth from time to time, of course, but I think they are committed to working through things together.

They’re good kids.  Smart kids, who are getting into this thing with eyes wide open.  Plus, they’re really in love, and that always helps.

It makes me feel old, though.  It makes me feel like I am entering the last phase of my life. Child, youth, father, graybeard.

I’m okay with that.  I can’t really lay claim to any…

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When The World Broke | Dean J. Baker – Poetry, and prose poems

I think finding a few, here and there, that actually enjoy ones work–or even many–is its own reward. My reason for writing sonnets has more to do with love than anything else. I has been yet another way in which my sweetheart of the better part of a century may have as much as, of me, she wishes. I do love sonnets and writing them. I love my sweet wife even more than that. This type of writing reminds her of her background and education, which is quite wonderful, and is a type of which one might covet. It was my love for her that took me away from time to time, from science–which is my background–into her world of words, history, literature, etc. Being a young student of science, It seemed as though poetry would be my fastest way into this world. The works are, overall, quite short, very often stunningly beautiful, and span the centuries reflecting their times, much as do other forms of art. This makes for a fine “foot in the door,” as it were, to her world which, when I was quite young, was unfamiliar, and that of which I had no understanding or appreciation apart from my desire to know and to love everything about her.

I have most enjoyed reading your work and will, I’m sure read more of it. I have also enjoyed reading, on this adventure, the work of others. So much has happened in these months. I have been reminded of poetic forms of which I had forgotten; I have learned, in fact, I do learn something new every time I read someone’s work; particularly when it is a new author which which I am unfamiliar. I have, most surprising of all, enjoyed answering questions and responding to comments of others very much,; as, I have found that oft-times it will help me to order my thoughts. I do have to be careful though–I need energy left over to write my sonnets daily, try to make them such as my sweet heart will enjoy, and, of course, many other things, some related to writing, some not.

Regarding being well known, I did gather somehow, upon skimming through some of your other blogs that, although you yourself might not be well known, you may have more than a few acquaintances or friends who are; which I can see, as I believe was (perhaps) your point, might prove something of a “springboard,” so to speak, if desired; Or not, of course, if not so desired.

Throughout all of this, I have found people on wordpress to be, although I’m not sure how or why, much more enthusiastic, and much more kind, even to those with whom they do not understand nor agree. Such followers as I have, are, as one might put it, “all over the map,” both artistically and in, perhaps, all other ways.

I feel quite fortunate to have made your acquaintance in this way.

via When The World Broke | Dean J. Baker – Poetry, and prose poems.

When The World Broke

Ah well, young man! You seem quite adept–at this blogging process as well! One might say you hardly need a follow from me. Quite the contrary! I have had a look around at your co-blogs. Quite a diverse collection! You encourage me, in a most peculiar way. I do not have my web presence in order to become well known. I should think it could hardly happen given my anachronistic subject matter. I wonder, how came you to my humble sonnet page? Since I have set myself this task, and that in largest part, for my sweet wife, I have encountered quite much unforeseen!