What Bell Hollow Poetry Is:

This blog is simply a home to one woman’s never spoken words; one early-forty-something’s thoughts, emotions, experiences, and imagination (usually in the form of poetry); one overly private recluse’s olive branch extended into the void . . .

I will also try to share 2-3 poems (on a shared theme) each week from various poets whom I admire and whose works I have collected over the years.

Who I Am:

Hi! I’m B.

I have been a lover and collector of words for as long as I can remember. I have also always loved the feeling of a pen in my hand; the art and act of cursive writing is soothing to me. I like to start anything I write using an old-fashioned pen and notebook paper. Stationery was my favorite gift to receive from the time I first learned of its existence at 5 or 6 years old. I kept journals and wrote stories and lists of words from the time I started writing well enough to do so. Somehow, in spite of all of that love for words and writing, poetry escaped me until I was thirty years old. Since then, it has absolutely and permanently re-shaped and rebuilt my life. Poetry is what introduced me to my soul; it awakened me in so many ways. It was and is all of the clichés!

I can’t help but feel like most people just don’t “get” me–or wouldn’t, if I gave them the chance. Spending a lifetime in rural, small-town America has not fostered a sense of belonging- I am radical and “weird” here if I speak my truth, so I tend to shut myself up and away from the world, and mostly, that has been a gift. I am not like so many of the places and prejudices that raised me, but I am incapable of confrontation. My only answer is avoidance. Peace is expensive, and still, there is no peace. My heart breaks for the broken world around me. I am too much for it; it is certainly too much for me. Words are the only thing that have ever felt like home, but I can be greedy and irrational with my own. I’ll put them on an anonymous blog for strangers to read before I’ll ever find the courage or the voice to speak myself out loud. So thank you, dear stranger, for finding me.