I used to have two blogs. My other blog was strictly a poetry blog: all poetry, all the time. About 5-6 years ago, I was actively participating in weekly poetry prompt link-ups and another creative writing type of prompt website. Each week (or multiple days a week), a prompt was posted and poems were written and added to the link-up. I didn’t write under my name (the blog had a different name), and I posted my own poetry. It was fun, creative, and I enjoyed it, but after a few years, I found it too time-consuming to manage and write for two blogs. Back then, I had many more visitors and many more commenters, and I spent much more time reading others’ content and commenting, and I couldn’t keep up with the pace of doing that, so I made a change.

I was very active with both blogs; each had a different purpose, and I was writing  new weekly content for both. With this blog here, which was the main one (and still is), I was also participating in weekly writing link-ups, commenting on many others’ blogs, and there were many folks commenting here. It was going well, but about 3 years ago, I finally decided to simply write in one place. Then all of a sudden, I began to slow down and even stopped blogging for a while, then picked it back up again gradually. I was searching for my purpose, thinking I had to define this space better, but I shouldn’t have stopped blogging entirely. By then, though, I had lost many readers. If you don’t write, people don’t read. Readers forget you – even those who were regular readers; there is an enormous amount of content online, and if a blogger isn’t writing, then readers aren’t reading.

I don’t promote what I do here (very little), and if there is ever an occasion I think I should, I will. For now, it is whatever I choose it to be, and I’m content with it right now. So, anyway, I have material from that other old blog that I may pull out and post here on occasion. It’s interesting to look back and be reminded of things I had forgotten. Below is a poem I wrote in 2012, called “Arpeggio”.





I stop-
my songs hop across the sidewalk-
not minding cracks.
Looking back at your punctuated
stance, I question the audacity
to crescendo, to command
a repeat, re-phrase, your disregard
for standard common time… I am
no longer of the same a-chord.

You choose the ritardando-
and I see arpeggios
dancing around me in the sky.
I dismiss the refrain; dismantle staff,
scale the re-mains, flee from dissonance.

I pause- and pedal
my way back to the beginning.


© prasanta May 2012