The pacing in this is wonderful. Dandelion memories is so evocative! It feels breezy and summer drenched, but in the sense of looking back... the feeling of when you're looking back at April from the depths of September.
Posted 6 Years Ago
6 Years Ago
thank you again for your kind review, glad you could relate in some way,
j.
Amazing use of words my friend.
"and my heart, a withered Daisy
next to a broken fence"
The above lines. Wonderful. I could write a epic story from. I liked the feel of these words. I felt the yearning to find something gone. Thank you Jacob for sharing the amazing poetry.
Coyote
Posted 6 Years Ago
6 Years Ago
thank you again for your kind reviews on my work, Coyote.
j.
So in reading this, I felt like sitting in the sun on the porch sipping iced teas and just enjoying a slow sunset's descent, smelling freshly cut sweet grass and admiring the fireflies' captivating spell in mating...
"Your lips to mine
Passion's pasture" that is so lovely!
The cadence and sweeping, lulling and lyrical rhythm of this piece flowed like honey.. living in the South, I can definitely appreciate this peaceful, serene and slow look at the simpler joys in life..
I feel for those unfortunate individuals who grew up in cities and never experienced those dusty back roads that led to so many adventures and not a few passionate kisses.
Lost now to those broken fences and run down barns that line the memory.
I was going to try and say something positive about cows besides how good steak tastes, but came up terribly short. Oh yeah, there are mushrooms sometimes in patties, be careful at what time you pick them.
Im a firm believer in dumb love. I think it usually starts that way. These are fine words woven from old country road memories. Im sure glad you have them.
Black eyed Susans, overgrown with weeds, dandelion memories, a withered daisy. I love how you have woven these into the fabric of your poem. That really brings the feel of the countryside out for me. Dandelion memories, is wonderful. It creates an explosion of imagery, dandelion seeds being blown to the wind to become lost in the memory bank. Last stanza poignant.
Originally from Bronx, NY, I live in Carbondale, Illinois...teach English at a community college and have been writing and publishing poetry since 1970. I am here to read for inspiration from other po.. more..