Being a poet and tagging pages of writers cafe or any other site can be an anonymous type of endeavor if no one outside this place knows you post poetry. No one I know knows.
We write or we paint and that's good enough for me. What we leave is for those that appreciate it.
Sounds like a pretty ideal life to me, but what do I know. I blame Dick Whittington for making me think a nomads life where all your possessions are carried in a blanket tied to the end of a stick was a romantic way of existence.
But then again I was brought up in the seventies, wherekidsleftthehouse first thing in the morning and weren't seen again until dinner time. No cell phone, keys or cash, so effectively homeless... and without a care in the world.
It was only when I became a properred growed up and begin fitting into my growed up pants that the fear overtook me and I became more compliant to authority, where the rules made even less sense.
"Oh, well yes you did work so many hours, but then we tooktax and national insurance, plus payment for your uniform, which is all compulsory, so don't worry about informing me of you jacking my wages and leaving me with peanuts. Then I have to pat for travel to a job and fit in a life along with your refusal to budge working hours and now I'm starting to se that tieing all my possessions into a blanket might just be the way to go... But where will I plug in my nightlight when it gets scary biscuits time at night?"
On second thoughts, I'll just keep trying to keep my head above water and pat all those bills, with cost of living increases because well, did we really think this life thing was gonna be free?
As I mentioned several months ago, I believe that this could be developed further; although I understand that the writer may have been experimenting. Indeed, she posed that very notion herself; in the Author's Note.
Time will tell, if and when she feels sufficiently confident; to take up that challenge. And, posed a few questions too; in my my previous review. Along with, a few points and observations.
I like this poem v-e-r-y much, Green. It takes time for one's talent to be recognized. Nobody is ever an overnight success. A lot of time, hard work and sometimes tears go into being successful. It's a long road, but so worth it when one is hungry for success. Sublime penning dear Green. Lovely work. Thank you for sharing...
Your words took me back to LA... seeing the colorful remains of the taggers as I would drive the highways... often wondering of their life... their meaning... now wondering of what we leave behind... what remnants... what colors... what words to make others wonder.
I love this! It reminds me of the sentiment in William Shakespeare's Sonnet 18, " So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee." Something that the human condition is striving for...
It made me think how insignificant, the individual can sometimes feel.? Also, that "tagging" is a modern equivalent of painting for some? A so called "tag" is sometimes left by graffiti artists (not always mind!), is intended as a monument to their work - and presence. In the world of street gangs, it can also be about marking territory. Certainly, it may be worth your adding to this? Indeed, perhaps to help clarify what's behind your perception of being anonymous..?
I'm living in the good ol' south of the US of A. Professionally, I'm an engineer and I guess that means I'm supposed to know things. I don't always. I write because I can, and because I can write word.. more..