If your comment didn’t appear…

SORRY!!!!  I.   Am.   Sorry!!

See…this morning I was in drafts, working on things and on me, and for some reason, I noticed something I had never seen before…a section in my comments called Spam!

Now, I knew about Spam, my blog has been hit by plenty, but the only ones I had noticed were the ones that actually got emailed to me.  Apparently, there are many comments that just get caught, filtered as Spam, and no one the wiser!

(I know, I know, so Ima ditz…shoot me! (please)  )

Anyway, I sifted thru them and discovered several nice comments from the last several months I have been blogging.  They are all approved, and should be published.  But rather than track down each one and write a belated acknowledgement and thank you, let me just say here to you, each and all…

thank you, pure and simple.

Truth be told, I have been amazed to find out my blog was even read…I started it cuz Heather said it would be good for me…and then my poetry springs began to flow again…

but when people were “like”-ing posts, and then even commenting??  I am inadequate in expressing how precious and valuable it is to me, each and everyone, every time, that you spend a little life here in this blog, with me.

I am honored.  Simply thanks.

Henceforth, should your comment not appear?  Please email me and I will find out why.

Oh, that is to normal commenters….you lot that feel it is your duty, your “burden” to pepper me with your “concern for my deceived and hell-bound soul”, you who realize that I “didn’t ask for your opinion but you simply have to give it anyway”, you who are so worried that I “will take offense” and are not the slightest bit aware of how offensive not only what you go on to say is but the fact that you wrap it up in the shit-stained newspapers from the back pages of your poison-pen soul…

you are not welcome here.

Keep that stuff to yourself.

Oh no, I am not talking about those who dialogue with joy, respect and love, from their spot ensconced on the other side of the fire from me but at the same family reunion…just you lot that hide down inside the tanks of portapotties so you can gather the stuff you pour out of your black hearts.

More about you lot later.

To you, Constance, beautiful and constant, my mirror more accurate than my own faint and fearful heart which has for so long seen only the outside, just constant constant thanks.

Love, Charissa Grace


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