Chasing The Shade

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Frank, Relevant, and Relatable Rhymes,
​​​​​​​Depicting The Condition of Our Condition
In the Raw, and Artless Tenor of The Times.

My poetry is profoundly personal, as are all forms of art, and asks only to be perceived with an open mind. I have no illusions about the impact of my work or my significance. Nor do I apologize for its tenor, or fret over how others judge it, or me for it. For to do otherwise would inhibit free expression, and a reticent, self-conscious poet is doomed to an uncreative and unproductive melancholy.

On the one hand, I write vulnerable, tender, and loving poetry, born of passion, empathy, and sentimentality. And on the other, I am compelled to write damning and pontifical prose and poetry, born of anger, angst, and sorrow.

But in the final analysis, poeting Ridge has this daft and naive belief, that if he can effect just an iota of awareness in the innocent, impart an ounce of enlightenment in the ignorant, or foster a scintilla of clarity of conscience in the culpable, that then, his passion, sentimentality, empathy, anger, angst, and sorrow would have mattered.