oh my goodness...that's just beautiful ... a complete whole with title, body and closing repetition of Still ... you give me the hook to hang me coat on and leave an entire room to explore on my own ... love this poem .. glad i stopped in
E.
Posted 5 Years Ago
5 Years Ago
Thank you kindly, for both words and visit- much appreciated!
Best wishes to you.
Said with such eloquence. A brilliant simple moving piece of art.
Posted 5 Years Ago
5 Years Ago
Hi Andrew, thank you so so much for that, and please forgive the ludicrous delay in reply, I haven't.. read moreHi Andrew, thank you so so much for that, and please forgive the ludicrous delay in reply, I haven't been too well of late, but am on the road to recovery..again, thank you for your words , they mean much.
all the very best to you.
I read the Bard here, so graceful, deeply moving, sadly passionate- ‘’triste’.. your poem cries with mourning, remembrance, pain, grief, anger, exhaustion- all of those ultimate emotions that deplete us after the great catastrophic wave of great loss. You so well express our human fragility with your trail of ink blots on this page- still drying. Your beloved sister remembered and revered. She hears you and holds your hand. May God bless and bring you comfort dear friend.
Posted 5 Years Ago
5 Years Ago
Awww Bless you Annette, thank you kindly and for your kind correspondence over the last months. read moreAwww Bless you Annette, thank you kindly and for your kind correspondence over the last months.
I have to confess that I lost sight of the reason behind writing these words and started to think that i was wallowing in a mire of self-pity, and , obviously that didn't sit too well- but then I managed to recall the idea, and that idea was one of yes, some degree of personal catharsis, but more of a sharing the experience with anyone else who has lost someone dear, and in doing so hoping that others may gain, perhaps some small degree of comfort from the words.
I write because I cannot paint.
I enjoy the flavor of words, their subtle tastes and textures.
I savor their spice and their sea salt.
They are washed in on tides of thought, and i comb the strand.. more..