Lovely indeed though tumultuous, this is what it invoked in my minds eye.
First the plain print...
A constant setting sun, on a world that spins and we wonder why we feel so horrid at times, should we be dizzy? And there seems to be so many frills yet most of them are sharp (during some moments at least) . And we fill an ocean within ourselves with in our own sandy beaches (our skin)
Until we are full and we over flow eyes and cheeks stripped and striped and shrieks formally held in our heads escape our throats. And we see colour in others eyes yet to ones own we seem colour blind, and ones own can seem somewhat dead, behind invisible bars waving frantically for someone to get you out.
Then the Papyrus font...
Something in her yellow dress is the where I want to be, in that radiance, that colour means something I want consuming my innermost places. A freedom and lack of self consciousness like the lady who is wrapped in that yellow warmth, I admire the intricacies and the strength in such delicateness. Full as an ocean of ideas floating in the air, the air offering up the world even in the rain never changing, a rock in the tide of life anchoring one from the drifting of pain.
It was a dedication to your mother I did read.. And a lovely one at that.
I'm sure she is looking down upon you, proud as can be, of the extraordinary man, and poet, you have become!
This is a stunning attestation to her memory, Craig. From "the sun in her yellow dress", to "the mourners gathering in the rain". It rained at my mother's funeral as well.
I hope the day wraps itself around you with the warmest of memories! Be proud of this...it's lovely!
Wow, sir, this is poetic. Happy Mother's Day, this makes me want to write a poem about my mother. Great diction and line flow and syntax.
"Your eyes were the color of the world
As mourners gather in the rain
Leopard striped grass paints the stone
Moving like waves and releasing my pain..."
-- Grass like waves is so vivid, I see the blades flowing. Love the ending.
This is fantastic! It does read like an abstract painting. I'm certain as with all loving moms that she never gave your difficult times a second thought. She loved you. Period. We moms never remember the hurtful times...only the good times. We see our children as they are, but love them perfectly.
I agree with Kara Krantz... it's hard to believe there was a time when you were ever unlovable... This is a great poem and it's wonderfully written. I like the imagery you use in this poem... Great job! Great Tribute!
The last stanza was good. Here I go again..... not liking ryhme... I just feel like it distracts me from the rest of the line.... Almost ringing in unison... when all I want to hear is the memory coming through.
Hmmm... love the font... papayrus... Not too sure about the bolding of the nouns. Hmmmmm... I will have to come back to this one and roll it around on the tongue... but so far the taste is fruit salad and soap... diverse in flavors but too tidy.... But then again that may be your intention...
There's nothing a mother loves so much as the praise and love of her child, freely given to her. I'm sure she would have a complete "mommy moment" over this. Fuzzy warm heart and all.
wow... imagery was stunning.. every image just pops right to the mind with no effort.
...someone who rights poetry such as you could never have been unloveable.. praise to the woman who raised a son with such a mind.
Stunning imagery throughout - and to your mother - alas, that is the best thing any woman could ask for...Mother's will love you no matter what but it is hard to imagine you being unloveable although I think I was too! Really moving work. I especially, as an abstract painter, like the likeness of it all. Thank you.
Light,
Siddartha
2024 is here... May we make it so much more heaven than hell... Wishing all peace on earth... Together, maybe we go the distance...
The night has a thousand eyes,
And the day but one;
Yet t.. more..