The Window To The World on Life of A Poet Week 16: Abby Kelly

Can you tell us about yourself?

I am 31. One of four sisters, married to an Army officer. I LOVE my dog!! I live in Virginia for the moment, but the Army enjoys bouncing us from coast to coast. I love the Lord Jesus Christ and my faith in Him inspires most of my writing. It is certainly the reason that most of my poems end hopefully. 

Which country do you live in now?  USA What’s your profession? be general, no need to specify your location...

I work for Fairfax County, VA at a recreation center and gym. I work the front desk as well as write their quarterly newsletter. I'm involved with a Christian women's ministry and do quite a bit of volunteer work, too.

We’re happy that you have been part of Poets Rally as a participant, what has driven you to where you are in this particular community?

I learn so much from the wide variety of poets and talent. I never knew how many different styles of poetry there are and just how personally each one's life informs their writing. I love that I can get reliable feedback and that there's always something new to read. I'm also impressed at how consistent the website moderators are. They never miss a week!

How long have you been blogging?

I have bee blogging for 5-6 years.

Do you think being part of a poetry community contributes to your creative writing?

Definitely!

It's the place I have learned to write "on command." When it's time to post, I sit down and find a poem inside of me, even when I didn't feel like I had anything to write about. 

Why poetry? Prose is something I have to think about and plan. Poetry usually just spills out of me. Do you write fiction too?

Not much. I write devotionally, journalistically and nonfiction prose. 

Please share 3 to 5 blog links you enjoy reading most, give 1 or 2 sentences to tell why you love their creative process.

http://www.marydemuth.com/   - Mary encourages me in Christ. I also try to learn some fiction techniques from her. I want to expand my writing genres. 

http://enitsirk24.wordpress.com/ - again, I admire her faith. Her poetry is quirky and fun. She also leaves valuable comments on my blog.

http://www.deniseinbloom.com/ - Denise is creative in many ways. I would love to have her decorating and crafting ability to make things beautiful. 

How do you know when a poem is done?

your own experiences need to be shared here...

I simply know. Poetry comes to me. When the words stop, I stop.

How do you decide when a poem is "good"?

I don't judge poetry. It is so much more personal. I simply believe that if I wrote it, I meant it. Poetry can be individualistic and I don't mind whatever meaning someone else ascribes to it, as long as they find something to ponder. Do you redo your own poems after they’re posted? not usually it could be poem someone else written...

Do you think music and poetry are related? Why? Now I do. Just today, someone told me that I should write song lyrics after they read my blog.

What issues are closed to your heart? Women’s rights, child abuses, etc.…name one… That everyone will hear about Jesus. That Jesus is the only way to eternal life with God. That Jesus offers hope amidst the pain even here on earth.

Please list your blog links below, share 1 or 2 poems that represents best of your poetry talent…

Thanks in advance.

http://www.benjity.wordpress.com 

one of my poems: http://benjity.wordpress.com/2011/12/24/christmas-memory/

Christmas Memory

I thought your absence would mellow,

That time would dull the ache I feel,

When I smell snicker-doodle coffee

When I slip on a soft flannel shirt,

I worried that I would slowly forget

The callous of your fingers

The sharpness of your whistle,

I thought your absence would mellow.

But just yesterday I cried.

I miss you.

I remember so many Christmases

When I was a little girl,

I remember caroling and gazing at the lights.

I remember services at your church.

Plates of cheese and crackers,

After candlelight services,

 Stacked in bunk-beds for meager hours

Till we could tumble down the stairs,

You waited at the foot,

Steamy, black coffee in hand,

Sun-sparked through frosty windows,

A buzz of home and warmth,

The air was full of you.

Of bridled enthusiasm for childish glee,

As we tumbled down the stairs

To assault the Christmas tree,

I promise to remember.

Your voice echoes in my heart.

Christmas will never be quite the same

As long as we’re apart,

Granddad, I miss you.

Grandma, we remember.

But, remember,

It won’t be this way forever.