a reputation long since forgotten
Let me tell you a story...
A few years ago, in a college town, there was a small lounge down the back alley of a shopping center. In this hole in the wall place was a sacred place of creation adorned with scarves and rugs and incense. Live music was created here, and poets rambled on in lengthy verse. I was one of these poets.
My poems were odd, some rhymed and some didn't, some were fast paced lines of one letter sounds, strung together in automotive ways. (it makes sense, trust me) Through my reading all of these random poems I developed a nickname without even realizing it - I heard it one night as the announcer whispered it across the sound system while announcing me...
"erika, the erotic poet"
It was news to me but i went with it and had one of my best readings ever. It was full of life and vigor, people clapped and many lighters went up. And so I was reborn, the erotic poet.
----
Over the years I have moved away from this, the small lounge closed and nothing like it has been seen again. I haven't stopped writing and in fact have expanded into short stories too. I never posted any of them and haven't really shown them to anyone in years. However, the muse is tugging at my dress again and I feel the need to embrace her. The words are coming easily again... more so than they have since I last closed my poetry journal. In looking feverishly for that book I discovered a few other journals of poetry and prose that I forgot I had - sources of fresh inspiration.
So it begins again - and while I don't have the ability to post my voice, I can pose my words - and hopefully the meaning will transfer on as well.
I'll be posting as I transcribe them, and as I find my long hidden files off my external drive I'll put some of those up too.
I hope you all enjoy them. yes, these will be public and no, they won't be lewd. My poetry isn't explicit, it's suggestive. I want people to find these and enjoy them or not enjoy them... but i want them to be open to everyone, they way they were back in the smoky lounge in Newark, where people sang and danced and blessed the goddess in everyone and everything.
A few years ago, in a college town, there was a small lounge down the back alley of a shopping center. In this hole in the wall place was a sacred place of creation adorned with scarves and rugs and incense. Live music was created here, and poets rambled on in lengthy verse. I was one of these poets.
My poems were odd, some rhymed and some didn't, some were fast paced lines of one letter sounds, strung together in automotive ways. (it makes sense, trust me) Through my reading all of these random poems I developed a nickname without even realizing it - I heard it one night as the announcer whispered it across the sound system while announcing me...
"erika, the erotic poet"
It was news to me but i went with it and had one of my best readings ever. It was full of life and vigor, people clapped and many lighters went up. And so I was reborn, the erotic poet.
----
Over the years I have moved away from this, the small lounge closed and nothing like it has been seen again. I haven't stopped writing and in fact have expanded into short stories too. I never posted any of them and haven't really shown them to anyone in years. However, the muse is tugging at my dress again and I feel the need to embrace her. The words are coming easily again... more so than they have since I last closed my poetry journal. In looking feverishly for that book I discovered a few other journals of poetry and prose that I forgot I had - sources of fresh inspiration.
So it begins again - and while I don't have the ability to post my voice, I can pose my words - and hopefully the meaning will transfer on as well.
I'll be posting as I transcribe them, and as I find my long hidden files off my external drive I'll put some of those up too.
I hope you all enjoy them. yes, these will be public and no, they won't be lewd. My poetry isn't explicit, it's suggestive. I want people to find these and enjoy them or not enjoy them... but i want them to be open to everyone, they way they were back in the smoky lounge in Newark, where people sang and danced and blessed the goddess in everyone and everything.