Writing is the process of opening a vein and bleeding ink.
Friday, June 5, 2020
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You may also communicate with me by writing to: Coldrainandwind@aol.com....... I will answer every e-mail.
O, Bury Me Not On The Lone Prairie
Eyes to the Skies
Poetry is heart language. Nothing about life is beyond the romance of verse. Sometimes it gushes, other times trickles, but it all comes from the center of our emotions. Poetry is meant to be read aloud, even in whispers. Read it slowly, naturally, as you would a letter from home. I hope my work both charms and disturbs you. But mostly, I hope you see some of yourself in these reflections of my soul. ~ James M. Woods
The Dashboard Poet
You may also communicate with me by writing to: Coldrainandwind@aol.com....... I will answer every e-mail.
Care for another cup?
If you like what I've brewed, there's plenty more on the back burner. Click on "Older Posts" at the bottom of the last entry on every page. There are nearly 900 other works you may enjoy. You'll find a wide variety of subjects. Give 'em a read! Some are confessional (you figure which are from "real life" and which are fantastical. Only I know for sure). Some are joyful, some bittersweet, others downright sad. My purpose is not to make you happy. But I do hope you see something of yourself in my writing, and thereby cause you to be thoughtful, introspective, and in better touch with your own life experiences. Thanks for stopping by. Come again when you can, leave when you have to! I'll always be here, and the coffee always hot!.
As always, I appreciate your comments. ~ James
As always, I appreciate your comments. ~ James
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The Sorrowful Man
O, Bury Me Not On The Lone Prairie
Poetry Archive
An Incomplete Glimpse into the Poet
- The Dashboard Poet
- Aurora, Illinois, United States
- I am an Irish/Cherokee/American that loves language and is fascinated with words. Nothing about me is remarkable. I am simply a pilgrim on his journey home. I am the great grandson of the Cherokee and Rebel, the grandson of an Arkansas sharecropper, and the son of a soldier. As for who I am...look to those from whom I've risen. I am a piece of the American puzzle. Most of the work contained in this blog have their origin in my experiences. Some of the poems are rooted in pure imagination. You may guess which is which!
LEGAL NOTICE PERTAINING TO CONTENT USE OR REVIEW
The creative content contained within this blog, known as "The Dashboard Poet" is the property of the writer, James M. Woods. Any theft of this body of work, in whole or in part, will be prosecuted under established law. The works may be quoted in part, or whole, with the permission of the poet. Permission may be granted for review or inclusion in digests, magazines, books, other blogs, and/or social media upon request addressed to ColdRainAndWind@aol.com .
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Storm Warning
Eyes to the Skies
Wonderful Reads for Rainy Days and Quiet Nights.... (in no particular order)
- The Bible (try the ESV)
- Sherlock Holmes by Sir. A.C. Doyle
- Three Day Road by Joseph Boyden
- The Poetry of Pablo Neruda
- White Doves in Morning by James Lee Burke
- Craig Johnson's Longmire Series
- Longfellow....period
- John Grisham---Everything
- Dean Koontz...Everything he has ever written or will write
- Rivers to the Sea & Love Poems of Sara Teasdale
- Sailing Around the Room and Aimless Love by Billy Collins
READERS' FAVORITES OVER LAST 30 DAYS:
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Behind my eyelids Is an intimate Screen Upon which is displayed Every manner of sensory Delight. Last night I journeyed in A horse-...
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Over more than half a century I developed expectations Of my body. It served me well Answering every demand Required. I have pushed ...
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the crossing caught me at midnight on the empty two lane great red warning bulbs flashing in the still air. shoving the gear shift into pa...
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I sat on my uncle’s lap And he in the wide steel seat Atop the giant red Farmall. Now, let out the clutch real slow He said. I grippe...
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My hands were steady On the controls. My eyes were clear. My back was strong. I acted with authority. I was skilled At making things w...
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