good company

sparked by a conversation

This morning I looked up at those hills--
expectantly--
and felt your words.

There they were
coming to me over hill and holler.

Brilliant words,

bright as sunshine,

they seemed pleased with the prospect
that they might just Be--
without pretense.

I gathered up the words
and carried them home
and thought I heard a sigh.

shhhh

They're sitting in the front porch swing now--
resting--
I have a blackberry cake in the oven.
We'll slice it later
and sip some coffee
enjoying silver silence.

Don't expect your words to be home
anytime soon--

I'm hoping they?ll stay awhile.

Your words are always good company.

Author's Note

R.: You may have met these words before.
AO: From the Holly Hobby life collection.

Reviews

[R J Askew]

'I gathered them up and carried them home' are the best lines for me. I just like the notion, which seems delightful. I also like the idea of words, poems, being received -- if we are lucky -- rather than worked at in the reason. I always think a received poem will have the edge over a carefully crafted one. And of course the words will stay for a slice of your cake. They would be mad not to! I'll put a few more raisins in my porridge tmr and see if it pulls a few hungry verbs! Charming read.

[Emily Rose]

This is beautiful and so, so true. Too few people actually appreciate how wonderful it is to have a good conversation, and you've expressed the sentiment in a fashion I only wish I could. I really like the peppering of alliteration and consonance throughout the piece - you're a very talented poet. Keep it up!

[Samith Pich]

People say you should smell roses, but I've always found more satisfaction in looking at hills.

This is simply beautiful poem - almost bare without pretense - and it glows because of it. I really liked how you've let all our senses come along for this ride (though sometimes more implicitly rather than explicitly), and they are much more thankful for it.

thankyou, thankyou.

[PianoandPage]

emily emily emily.

this poem makes me smile. you construct such unique and beautiful metaphors here. you break apart old molds and i love how the poem trips along.

the idea of words being "gathered up" and making the insubstantial a comforting material companion is beautiful.

"they seemed pleased with the prospect
that they might just Be--without pretense." - just like this poem.

[Siddartha Beth Pierce]

Carried the words or the mountains or both - I am not really certain - either way this is a lovely read - the natural essence of motherhood shines through as you seem to coddle them. Thank you. Quite lovely.
Light,
Siddartha

[Kayla]

This poem used such wonderful connection. The way you connected to the hills and god was genius. Very wonderful Job!!

[Raef C. Boylan]

I really like how homely this is; poetic pretensions are absent here, [in terms of claiming, although elements of this piece are themselves profound] - the idea of words that move and amaze being something to invite in for a slice of pie and hang out with on the porch swing...that's lovely.
We forget the simple pleasures of reading sometimes, especially when the act becomes as essential as breathing...but you remind us here, in pretty verse.

Great work.
Thanks for sharing it with us.

[Solst Rapture]

There is such a wonderful gentleness to this insightful journey into your imagination. Your delicacy soothes my rough edges, smiles at me and then skips away, leaving me feeling like a grumpy old man, fighting his childish crush on frolicking in the grass. Unfortunately, it is something I never did do. I once danced between these wooden stakes that were driven into the ground - 6 or so of them - and in my mind I was special, there was music playing in the back and foreground, I was on stage, the world was mine, I had all it's attention. I would rest a hand on the top of one stake and weave in between it and the other until I got to the end. I secretly hoped I was being watched by someone real, someone who might just come down and embrace me, tell me what a gift I was, able enough to understand my shame and shyness. They never came and I carried on until it was time to go back in side the house. The sun was shinning, the bright yellow daffodils dotted around the grass, the warmth of the wind pushing against my back, almost as if it too wanted me to leave.

That image/memory was thrust upon me by your words...

[Angelic Darkness]

Loved this...so intimate, spiritual. There is a peace here that settles, and it's
nice. Thanks for sharing this..AD

[KUFU]

I always get Strawberry Shortcake and Holly Hobby confused. My sister had a Canopy Bed that had both characters as a canopy and they were used interchangeably. All I knew is the little girls in the depictions wore funny hats that indeed looked like cakes of various types. When I read:

"I have a blackberry cake in the oven.
We'll slice it later
and sip some coffee
enjoying silver silence."

...this delicious little quartet invokes such memories when juxtaposed against your "author's notes". The poem on its own is quiet and inviting, as if one were invited to unwind in your poetics. I like how you started the poem off with a dreamy yawn at a sunrise only to finish it off with a lazy swing on the porch enjoying the company of Poetry.

[Touché Armada]

Hello sentience my old friend , perceived you like mist you were solid I could see you and feel you on my face taking my breath away, but not really, just making me think about my breath, and where it might have come from. Who put words in my mouth and who made the morning golden but the frost sparkle white and shiny? Who would take that sort of perfection for granted? Not you not I, though some things just are as they are without pretence, and they come to my door and all along the lane, resting everywhere in every eye who has beheld. Em I think a taste of summer in winter is quite sublime and your words are such great company, the parrots here are singing to them as the blossoms fall... their pre winter harvest, like bees they gather the last nectar. While I sip coffee warming my fingers in the crisp of chilled morn... A beautiful evening to you.