Such strength here, Susan. Such poetic confidence, too. It takes courage to write with repeats and a refrain... I have not yet the boldness to do so, and I consider it a weakness. But this is like a pulse in the brow, the beat of heart that goes on in spite of itself. The tenacity is immense. Very striking... and the keynotes are good. This has total soul and reminds me of the flavour of Lady Sings The Blues or even Barbra Streisand... in her heyday!! :)) Would be great if you could sing it... bet you have the most WONDERFUL voice, being the woman you are and coming from the artistically blessed place in the world you do! Give it a whirl! LOL Kate xx
There are places where the mind dies, so that a truth which is its very denial may be born. Future will be kind to us if we give the present all we have and accept the past as it presented itself to us. These Camus-like thoughts came to mind when reading the poetic pour of words from your heart. Nothing ever takes place too late or too soon, everything happens precizely on time. Time is the least of our worries; it is an illusion that continuously tries to trap us and mold our feelings and thoughts into patterns that makes sense to itself. But it is just that: an illusion. I saw a documentary on tv of a man yesterday who refused to comply with society - he gave up on material things entirely and built a hut to live in for himself. People burnt his hut several times because they failed to understand his motivation, the municipality forbid him to continue to live like that and finally after years of struggle he reluctantly began to live like anyone else around him (outwardly). Years later the camera team of the program re-visited him to see how he was doing now. He had given up on his rebellion, but his spirit was unbroken, his prinicples he maintained. It is difficult to find a way through life (spacetime) in which we feel that we can remain true to ourselves, especially for those whose awareness reaches beyond the scope of what is considered to be common. But there are ways to do just that nevertheless, because the aware are capable of generating thoughts beyond the common level, which is a source of power unknown to the common.
Tears of sorrow yes...a change in the wind for you in the tomorrow. For it is by the sadness of the heart that it is enriched beyond all measure...this is quite excellent.
I'm finally home again and facing a heck of a schedule, but I wanted to take the time to read something of yours...I have definitely missed the opportunity and the luxury. What a lovely piece to come home to Susan...the sadness of haunting memories enhances the ache and repetition in your refrain. I love the comparison of the fragile tangibles with the sorrowful emotion...You are blessed with such a gift. How fortunate that you share it with us.
Love,
Taylor
the sorrow this pulchritudinous poem was magnified by your incredible ability to create mood and atmosphere through the eloquence of imagery and repetitive refrain ...
"Ebbing woes of rusted years" pretty much was the image that left me breathless. You are certainly on a poetic roll dixie bud, and your quill is sharp and full of magical ink.
I'm really enjoying your stuff.
oodles of kudos, again ...
Richard Lloyd Cederberg
Reviewed by Jerry Bolton (Reader)
Reviewed on August 1, 2006
Haunting verses meant to conjure up the good memories of tangible hearts beating together, which, over the years become tissue-paper treasures which come alive inside smoky dreams. This is such a beautiful poem, Susan, the repeating refrain socked it to me.
I have always been of the opinion, that outside the paternal love of our parents, that it is well nigh impossible to recreate or replicate that kind of love
Using Calgary as a backdrop the author satirizes the self-serving nature of the public as it continues to fatten itself, not only physically, but egotistically as well.
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Ron
Love Tinka
RAge
Love,
Taylor
Love,
Eileen
Send the good times back to me
Take away all my sorrow
Return my faith with good tomorrows
Quite powerful, Susan - and may many good tomorrows follow.
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
I'm really enjoying your stuff.
oodles of kudos, again ...
Richard Lloyd Cederberg
Different write On!
TRASK
I have always been of the opinion, that outside the paternal love of our parents, that it is well nigh impossible to recreate or replicate that kind of love
Blessings
Peter
Sage