Is it Evolution to Go Back to Where I Began?

Actually I'm a poet.

Early on I was seduced by Angelou and Giovanni. That began an affair with words that came to include  the likes of Blake, Wordsworth, Shelly and Frost.  Not to mention Bard, Hughes and Dunbar. As I matured my favorites became the artists at the Cafe's who, although unknown, spoke to me eloquently.

I love words. The more ambiguous the better.  I like the cadence of the ones that caress your tongue and stroke your teeth before they leave your mouth. I love the hard ones that feel painful and abrupt.  The ones that demand you stop and pay attention.

I love that a string of words can draft a thought and tell a story.  Make the human condition seem universal as opposed to isolationist. I found my voice through words. The kind that encompass your soul.

I have written so much and for so long. Most of my poetry is raw.  Is elemental. Is human.  It is my emotions set to phonetics. As such it's venue has long been privately kept or expressed in poetry cafes. I can rock a mic.

And now, as the evolution of my blog continues, maybe it's time for the real writer in me to emerge.