Ironic Poetry and Other Stuff

The journey to getting published is often one step forward and two steps back. I'm sure I'll learn this even more as the journey progresses. This week, I got all adventurous and decided I was going to attempt to send out some more queries (about time). Then I realized that while it's good that I'm wanting to start getting active again, I need to really take my time and do this right. I reread and revised my query. I like it. However, I'm going to have some people look over it again for me just to make sure it doesn't completely suck.



I also decided that I need to polish up a synopsis just in case an agent is intrigued enough by my query that they want to read a synopsis. So right now I'm just trying to line up all my hypothetical ducks to make sure they're in a hypothetical row. This is the part I really hate about being a writer who wants to get published. It's a time where I have to hurry up and wait--where I have to find the right balance and the proper timing. I've never been good at those things, but I'm excited to be doing something. I'm excited to see what will happen in the next few weeks.



In the meantime, I wrote a poem. I do write poetry, but I don't typically share my poetry. The reason for this is that I am a lousy poet.



Today, however, I thought it would only be right for me to share my latest poem. It snowed today in the beautiful state of North Carolina. I hate snow, but I have to admit that it was very pretty as it fell down and messed up the roads and got my car all snowified. Since it was such a wintry wonderland here where I live today, I thought I'd share a poem that I wrote a few weeks ago when everything was autumnal and snow free.



The autumn wind is expectant.
Its chill is vibrant and alive
Like it knows a happy secret
That it is trying not to hide.
All the trees are ablaze, now,
Like the bush that Moses could see
When he heard the Voice of "I AM"
Tell him to set His people free.
But the fire upon the trees here
Is just the color of the leaves.
I know the flames cannot consume
A single fiery autumn tree.
But the wind is still expectant.
I hear "I AM's" Voice in the sound
Of the breeze setting free each leaf
As they fall upon Holy Ground.