From the Diary #3: For Love’s Sake


An amateur is a person who:
a) does something for pleasure and not as a job
b) does something poorly : a person who is not skillful at a job or other activity

(Definition from Merriam-Webster)

I love writing poetry.  It helps makes sense of my life, it indulges my passion for how words sound, how they feel rolling from my tongue. It is a pleasure to respond to other writers’ works –  in a comment, in my heart, in writing another poem.  On a good day, when composing my own work my heart quickens, my brain works quickly to find new connections, and matched sounds forge a new, exciting music.  It’s like a dream where everything in my life becomes muddled by association: I am smudged with a cherry tree in blossom, my grandmother’s hands smooth down the bed which I write upon, the sun’s eclipse is a cicada casting off its old shell, and I am that cicada.

I am not paid for this any more than I receive payment for breathing.  This is words for words’ sake, writing for writings’ sake.  I reclaim the word amateur.  This is not about writing poorly.  Being an amateur writer has nothing do with my level of skill.  I can take pride in being an amateur because:

I write poetry only for love’s sake.


Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back...

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