My Latest New Favorite Poet: Jay Leeming – National Poetry Month Post #8

My latest new favorite poet is Jay Leeming (from American Life in Poetry: Column 455).

I know many of us have been on blind dates, so have some understanding of the situation painted in this poem. The way Mr. Leeming personifies the idea of loneliness as a sort of “third wheel” is quite great. Read on!

Blind Date

Our loneliness sits with us at dinner, an unwanted guest
who never says anything. It’s uncomfortable. Still

we get to know each other, like students allowed
to use a private research library for only one night.

I go through her file of friends, cities and jobs.
“What was that like?” I ask. “What did you do then?”

We are each doctors who have only ourselves
for medicine, and long to prescribe it for what ails

the other. She has a nice smile. Maybe, maybe . . .
I tell myself. But my heart is a cynical hermit

who frowns once, then shuts the door of his room
and starts reading a book. All I can do now is want

to want her. Our polite conversation coasts
like a car running on fumes, and then rolls to a stop;

we split the bill, and that third guest at the table
goes home with each of us, to talk and talk.

My favorite lines:

“But my heart is a cynical hermit

who frowns once, then shuts the door of his room
and starts reading a book.”

Maybe now we know why blind dates don’t work out so well for the “hermit-hearted” narrator.

The full article can be found by clicking here.

Enjoy! :-D


“A Four Letter Word”, National Poetry Month Post #7

Hello Bloginistas!

I wrote the following as a meditation; it’s my analysis of love and its many properties. While it certainly doesn’t capture every aspect of what love is (which may be near impossible, many great artists have tried), I believe that it touches on some of the good and the bad. It’s a love and an anti-love poem. Enjoy!

A Four Letter Word

Love –
Four letters,
Like four sides
It’s not a box
It’s got too
Much to be contained
In a mere box.

Four letters,
Like a curse word,
And some
Take it to mean
That word,
Maybe it does,
It’s a lot more
Than just a

Four letters,
Like a fairy tale,
Glass slipper and all,
There’s not
A happy ending.

Four letters,
Like a family,
Connected to
Each other
In cursive,
Sometimes silken threads,
Sometimes iron chains.

Four letters,
Like pain,
But worse,
The wounds of
Memory and
The lessons that
Scar tissue
Teaches us.

Love –
Four letters,
Each one
To the power of
Limited and
Limitless, an
Ouroboros –
L eating the E,
Ad inifinitum.

© Jamy Sweet 2014-04-19

Jamy :-D

“Why can’t we all just get along?” (maybe just a little bit?) – National Poetry Month Post #6

Hello Bloginistas!

I came across this article while doing a Google search about Joyce Carol Oates, Poets, and Writing in general. I completely agree with the author’s argument at the end of the page and was surprised (to certain extent; I have read about the “cattiness” of a few of the greats) that some of the greatest writers who have put words on a page said those things about one another.

So read on and let me know in the comments what you thought, your experiences with other writers, or your own personal writing life / experiences!

“The Write Way”

Enjoy! Jamy ;^D

My Top Five – National Poetry Month Post #5


I wanted to give you a list of the five poets who have affected me the most in my writing life for my 5th National Poetry Month post. Along with their Wikipedia pages (just click their names :-) ), I have included a link to my favorite poem of theirs (although there are MANY, these were the most singular in my universe) so that you may get the same feeling they gave me when I first read them. My favorite moment from each poem follows its link.

Please let me know in the comments if any of these amazing poets are in your top five (if so, are there other poems of theirs you were really affected by), or if there are different writers in your “personal bests”…

Enjoy! :-D :-D

“DARK CORNER” by Charles Simic – National Poetry Month Post #4

For this National Poetry Month post, I wanted to share a poem from a recently acquired tome by one of my favorite poets, Charles Simic. The book is “Walking the Black Cat”. I have always loved Mr. Simic’s work, and on reading the following was reminded again exactly WHY.


Say, how’d you find me?
Ordinarily, I act deaf and dumb, but with you
It’s different. Darting in and out
Of doorways, prowling after me
Like a black cat.

Just look at the suckers, I kept
Shouting at the world. It was no use.
They just stepped over me holding on to their hats,
Or lifting their skirts a little
On the way to hell.

He must be crazy, sprawled there
On the sidewalk, his fly unzipped,
His eyes closing. Only you came back
To see how I’m doing,
Only you peeked into every dark corner.

I’m a bird fluttering in flight.
Find me a nice, large cage with the door open.
Back me out of here with your kisses.
My shoes need laces.
My pants need your finger to hold them up.

© Charles Simic, Walking the Black Cat, 1996

I especially like the sense he gives of being lost, then found, by a single person who took the time, who “peeked into every dark corner”.

My favorite lines are:
“They just stepped over me holding on to their hats,
Or lifting their skirts a little
On the way to hell.”

I love the idea that “the way to hell” is more than likely an office job or something of the sort, and that even though they seem to be stepping over him like HE is nothing, they might be heading toward somewhere they will be treated exactly the same. There is more (much more) meaning here, but give it a good read and let me know in the comments what you find!

Enjoy! :-D :-D

A Rhythm Runs Through It has 300 Followers!


I wanted to take a second to mark this milestone in the evolution of A Rhythm Runs Through It. Also, I wanted to thank everyone who took the time and care to click “follow” after visiting (and thank you for visiting as well, period!).

Thank you all so much everyone!

:-D :-D :-D

Jamy (A Rhythm Runs Through It)

“intelligent_design”, National Poetry Month Post #3

Good day fellow Bloginistas! I wrote the following poem after visiting my father-in-law in the hospital some time ago, and it started me thinking about medical care. How often one receives great treatment can depend on socioeconomic status rather than need (at least in the U.S., even the though the Affordable Care Act has done wonders in at least pointing us in the right direction).

I am not generally a political poet, so this post is a rare occasion (I actually believe my only other political poem is “El Mozote” which was a National Poetry Month post last year), so savor it! ;-) It is only my opinion, and like a lot of my work, a snapshot of how I was feeling in the moment.

This poem will also appear in what I hope to publish as my first book, but that won’t be for a bit, so please enjoy this appetizer for the meal to come!


whole, smooth, unblemished;
fresh off
the assembly line.

They stay this way
for so long,
until a chip or
crack happens and
travels the surface
like a nomad
searching for
a place to rest.
(NOTE: This generally occurs on the face)

The fissure can be
but is never
quite the same.
The original,
beautiful surface
always shows
some sign of

And finding a
qualified repair shop
depends on several factors:

So often,
The more advantaged
the owner is in
one or all of the above,
the closer the fix is
to its original design.

In the end
(which is also the beginning),
where and how
the mannequin
was made also matters.

Shoddy workmanship
breeds a
faulty product.

But careful attention by a
skilled artisan
(coupled with
constant, diligent
care of your product)
will make possible
chips, cracks,
or other signs of
less likely.

© Jamy Sweet 2014-04-08

Jamy :-D