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| Table d'hote
Posted: 11/1/2009 9:47:58 AM | | Thanks, WeAre1. Talk about endings that throw one for a loop! | |
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| Table d’hote
Posted: 11/1/2009 12:14:12 PM | Jer, 1049 is to die for...
seriously, pun aside, it's really good... | |
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| Table d’hote
Posted: 11/1/2009 1:03:56 PM | | Deeply appreciated, Brizo. Frankly, I hesitated to post it because I thought: That 3rd stanza is so bleak, so bitter, who needs it? | |
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| Table d’hote
Posted: 11/1/2009 8:20:18 PM | Basically darling you are effing amazing and that wonderful gripping poem is an example of why.....
Bisous | |
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| Table d’hote
Posted: 11/1/2009 8:37:08 PM | I stare at the perfect symmetry
of the pink Shasta daisies
they arrived by Interflora
delivered just as I arrived home
a week ago last Tuesday
I have not heard from you
since our last rendevous
so I have spent the interval
playing...
He loves me, He loves me not....
could you call please
because you see
I am now down to a very few
petals. | |
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| Table d’hote
Posted: 11/2/2009 12:08:46 AM | paragraph 15. [66-67]
My preliminary answer to this question is the imagination. Imagination
is the 'assertion' which reflects the question of Being as an 'answer'
and as the synthesis of intuition and thinking (sensibility and
understanding). | |
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| Table d’hote
Posted: 11/2/2009 4:53:41 AM |
I stare at the perfect symmetry
of the pink Shasta daisies
they arrived by Interflora
delivered just as I arrived home
a week ago last Tuesday
I have not heard from you
since our last rendevous
so I have spent the interval
playing...
He loves me, He loves me not....
could you call please
because you see
I am now down to a very few
petals.
God, how I love this! I love the way it appears to meander calmly through quiet, objective narrative - only to arrive, at the end, at this crucial "very few petals."
Even there, the statement appears to be quiet, matter-of-fact but the urgency of it explodes in one's face after a moment of reflection. | |
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| Table d’hote
Posted: 11/2/2009 7:46:13 PM | Thanks my love.......high praise indeed
Bisous xo | |
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| Table d’hote
Posted: 11/2/2009 8:14:55 PM | Alone
sitting
flickering images colour the night
and from eyes shut tight
tears
remembering and wishing
time could turn back
life
she was a good wife once
loved and loving
now a shell
the memories she knows so well
replay, replay
just enough to get through
another day | |
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| Table d’hote
Posted: 11/4/2009 4:29:27 AM |
Alone
sitting
flickering images colour the night
and from eyes shut tight
tears
remembering and wishing
time could turn back
life
she was a good wife once
loved and loving
now a shell
the memories she knows so well
replay, replay
just enough to get through
another day
As is usual with your poems, I admire both the passion that is in it and the discipline - perhaps hardly a discipline with you by now, more an ingrained aspect of your character - the discipline with which you set the emotions down, never exaggerating, never using one word or one line-break to call attention to your skill, never anything boastful or done just for effect. | |
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| in another room
Posted: 11/9/2009 9:11:25 AM | In another room, in another house,
on another street, on another continent
a man stares out the window
facing north,
a woman puts down her book
and reaches for a cigarette,
her third in the last hour.
A child wakes up
and realizes that the dark
has an odour all its own.
In another room, in another house,
on another street, on another continent | |
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| in another room
Posted: 11/9/2009 12:02:47 PM | Stashia so stoic
Stashia so sweet
Stashia the name
paints my life so complete
Stashia so strong
even she doesn't know
just collects the memories
and gets on with the show
some hurt something awful
but what's a mom to do
please enjoy the flowers
I bought them for you | |
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| Darkness (R-rated)
Posted: 11/22/2009 11:58:55 AM | Darkness
Why are there no precipices
when you need one?
Or they’re all occupied,
people doing cartwheels
in mid-descent.
I hear they plan to make suicide
an Olympic event | |
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| Darkness (R-rated)
Posted: 11/22/2009 7:39:39 PM | | Hey Ya...J.....this one is of course in fun, jest, humour, etc. Eh? | |
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| Darkness (R-rated)
Posted: 11/23/2009 9:44:39 AM |
Hey Ya...J.....this one is of course in fun, jest, humour, etc. Eh?
Honestly, I don't know WHERE it came from other, perhaps, than from the very bottom of some puddle of self-pity....... I mean, to tell you the truth, what the H. does it mean to make suicide an Olympic event???????/ | |
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| Darkness (R-rated)
Posted: 11/23/2009 3:33:41 PM | | ***for what it's worth, i liked it....dime*** | |
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| Snapshot: Nov. 24, 2009
Posted: 11/24/2009 8:41:31 AM | Little Esmé goes by
in her pink woolen toque,
not-quite-Coke-bottle glasses,
which lend an extra air
of vulnerability
to her already trusting face.
She is holding her mother’s, Ann’s, left hand,.
her brother, Seymour, holding the other:
Three companionable, happy adventurers
against the cold morning wind. | |
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| Snapshot: Nov. 24, 2009
Posted: 11/24/2009 8:50:07 PM | The image is there
rubbing shoulders with the flashbacks
reliving each moment as though it was the last
because it could be
yet as you left me this morning
traced my cheek first with your lips
then your fingertips
there was a promise
You will be here tonight with me
and the fleeting imagery will meld into dreams
that will be my reality
unless you say differently
Bisous | |
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| Snapshot: Nov. 24, 2009
Posted: 11/24/2009 11:49:43 PM | Each, every, some, all men
visiting my life...
few, left any impression.
I have not forgotten you.
With a tickle your smile left me wordless.
I could not point towards the sun, I knew not the moon.
Your hair strayed, you hated this..
across your forehead, your body
achieved the perfection named symmetry
Leaving was easy, I did not leave bitter
When asked, I replied, "I liked his smile."
Never mind the sorry details. | |
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| Snapshot: Nov. 24, 2009
Posted: 11/25/2009 7:35:44 AM |
The image is there
rubbing shoulders with the flashbacks
reliving each moment as though it was the last
because it could be
yet as you left me this morning
traced my cheek first with your lips
then your fingertips
there was a promise
You will be here tonight with me
and the fleeting imagery will meld into dreams
that will be my reality
unless you say differently
Is it something in the water that both you and 60 left such bittersweet poems? How spontaneous yours is, as are virtually all your recent poems, how free your heart is to speak in the presence of we fortunate eavesdroppers.
Bisous X 2 | |
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| Snapshot: Nov. 24, 2009
Posted: 11/25/2009 7:38:53 AM |
Each, every, some, all men
visiting my life...
few, left any impression.
I have not forgotten you.
With a tickle your smile left me wordless.
I could not point towards the sun, I knew not the moon.
Your hair strayed, you hated this..
across your forehead, your body
achieved the perfection named symmetry
Leaving was easy, I did not leave bitter
When asked, I replied, "I liked his smile."
Never mind the sorry details.
The last two lines, of course, are the unexpected killers. It's the sort of poem that, when we are at the movies, we want to call out STOP! as the heroine is about to open the door behind which lurks...
And as I said of Pickles poem, there is such freedom of your heart to speak so truthfully and without any (so far as I could tell) calculated effects. | |
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| Snapshot: Nov. 24, 2009
Posted: 11/26/2009 7:26:39 PM |
How spontaneous yours is, as are virtually all your recent poems, how free your heart is to speak in the presence of we fortunate eavesdroppers.
Jer, thank you
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