Meaning and Purpose
I don’t know why I spend my time
writing these words,
unaware of whether anyone
is even reading the words
and so to whom
are these words written
and for what purpose?
Like a letter
to a lost,
deceased
loved one,
I wonder about
the futility
of my actions.
I write alone.
My following
is quite small
but in my mind
I dream of something
much bigger.
I imagine
that eventually
these words
will reach
the ears
eyes [...]
The Invisible Ones
She seemed out of place
on this late June day,
wearing several layers of clothes
including a coat.
But she was invisible
even with her several gags
of belongings -
as if she was traveling -
she was always traveling,
I believe.
I couldn’t help looking.
I wanted to notice her.
I don’t think anyone else
coming into the church
noticed her – she was invisible.
I wanted [...]
Dear God,
I know
all things are possible
for you
and you know
my passionate,
no desperate,
needs
desires
hungers…
Yes, this is
that same prayer.
How much
more passionately
can I present
my supplication?
I don’t
know what
to do.
How would I even
know
if you did
choose
to grant
my supplication?
What would I need to do
differently?
I sometimes
feel
completely
and totally
directionless.
By Bruce Whealton
June 22, 2009
Guidance
Hypnotic patterning
can be useful
and effective
as a language tool
for any poet.
Those who say
they cannot
be hypnotized
will be pleasantly
surprised
to discover
the way
a poem
can alter their
consciousness.
While hypnosis
is no different
than anything else,
we can learn
to create poems
that elicit
more intense
responses
from people…
using hypnosis
we can do what it is
we do
as hypnotists….
as poets… and have
a greater impact.
by Bruce Whealton
June 16, 2009
Poetry is hypnosis
Poetry is hypnosis,
whose success
is measured
by its ability
to alter
one’s consciousness -
and yet
not every good
poem will
create the same
trance in everyone…
sometimes it’s the
reader’s voice
and the empathy
between reader, poet
and listener.
June 9, 2009
Yes, this is out of season. It reads:
feeling numb
my face where
tears have frozen
Midnight outside
the dark silence
is loud
or
sounds of life
the night silence
is loud
Watching the sun set
in my eyes
in her eyes
or this variation
watching the sun set
in her eyes
in my eyes
Silent winter night
the sound of waves -
the comfort of her arms.
Bruce Whealton: On Being A Poet and Other Existential Ideas