... I am trying to produce a poem a day for National Poetry Month here in America... But somehow I can't seem to knock 'em out like I used to! Harumph... :)) K xx
TO HAVE AND TO HAVE NOT
There is that
which was never mine
to have.
But there –
within the pneumatic “chfff”
of a tube-train’s closing doors;
on the swaying branch left empty
by the robin’s swift ascent;
amongst the rippling backwash
from the diver’s deep displacement –
is all that was
surely mine to hold
but somehow barely missed.
Wow! the imageries speak eloquently Kate!
Reach and take or try, don't allow the missed if you can...
Poem a day huh, I started but had a hard time with the every day part!
Write On!
Warm Hugs, Warrior Purple PaSsion Shexooo
moments have the tendency to live within the observer as well as the observed ... not missed or overlooked but captured in the framework of time as this poem succeeds in revealing ...
I have no doubts you will accomplish your goal, Kate. Your poetry is always appreciated. I'm impressed with the virtual "sounds" of your words in this poem; very imaginative!
Micke
Where are the missed opportunities, the choices one never made, the moments that could have been lived? Surely they must hide somewhere! An evocative poem, very effective.
Well... you sure "knocked [me]out" with this one. Fabulous, quivering images here, Kate. Focusssing on one poem at a time is a good thing-- especially when it comes from such a powerful pen as yours. Andy's right. Let 'em come to you.
And who knows? You could spin yourself a web of words so tight that they could boomerang you far into the future, and suspend you in space--in time. And the thousand images and sound waves (once just beyond your grasp) could hurl by you--get caught in your web, and hang there beside you-- quivering with squelched momentum... and you could eat them... a danty dish set before the queen... pinky's high... a morsel at a time... and then they'd spill from your fingertips as you licked your fingers-- injesting them again, and again, and again... a poetic feeding frenzy of sprouting ideas caught somewhere in your sinus cavity-- you swallow, and they swim their way through your blood... dropping an idea off at your ribs, your spleen, the tip of your ear...
--every action, every sight-- every sound, a word to be captured and digested... then, some day-- while you're sitting around thinking about all the things you should be doing, you'll sigh... and out comes a butterfly-- a thought with wings... You open your mouth for a nice yawn, and hundreds more fly out... get caught in your hair, your eye lashes, your sweater... and they just keep coming and coming and you can't write fast enough to get them all down...
It's feast or famine with ideas. This one of yours was a fine one-- very inspiring... (Thanks for the butterflies!) Tootles--Charlie
I am going to guess that the reason you can't knock them out like you used to is because your writing has matured and you no longer accept anything less than your best...this one rocks, Kate, you are one who just keeps getting better and better. There is so much we miss if we don't go through our lives with our senses honed.
Take care,
Sherry
I think your muse is alive and well and ready to continue taking the den and America by storm. Your pixie like smile combines with your deep thoughtful writes to always entertain and amuse my mind so I thank you and I am glad to read and review your works. Hugs from your Pops...
Fee
...the fleeting moments...somehow hit my heart here...and your words give thought perhaps to their presence...once before you...held and yet not held...beneath it all...still...something missed.
as always your finest Kate...
John
Ah sweet love how we pine for thee in thy absence.
Reviewed by Andy Turner (Reader)
Reviewed on April 13, 2008
Kate, the reason is simple, as G K Chesterton said, we have much in common with America except the language....
Just be Kate of the Kastle and you'll do fine.
America is a diffo culture, and an English Rose can't survive in NM heat. Yet your poetry is more than equal to NY poets..
But just be Anglo in st donats, and let them come to you...
Concur with Jerry - you better not quit. Every time you pick up the pen, you take me to other places, places I wish I could go with poetry! You, my dear, are doubly fantastic. Wonderful use of words, imagery crisp, perfection.
Yeah, yeah, I know: blushing, eh? Shouldn't - you're THAT good.
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
Reviewed by Jerry Bolton (Reader)
Reviewed on April 13, 2008
Just in that instant . . . Gone . . . Poof . . . In many different guises, but gone nevertheless and therein lies the ago-old . . . eons-old . . . problem . . . What if? . . . If you think this is substandard, M'Lady I may never post again . . .
A Collection of Voices from Around the World is more than just a poetry compilation. It is a partnership of poets from around the globe brought together by an internet poetry forum. That forum, poetrypages.com, has been the home of many a fine poet s
WHISPERS OF THE HEART is artist and author J. Allen Wilson's second book of poetry.It can be autographed and shipped within 48 hours of order. NO LONGER AVAILABLE.
Share
Print
Save
Follow
Reach and take or try, don't allow the missed if you can...
Poem a day huh, I started but had a hard time with the every day part!
Write On!
Warm Hugs, Warrior Purple PaSsion Shexooo
STay Positive!
Cryssa
Micke
Your doing very well. Ambition is a powerful tool to work with. Peace, Love and Blessings Always, Paul.
Axilea
And who knows? You could spin yourself a web of words so tight that they could boomerang you far into the future, and suspend you in space--in time. And the thousand images and sound waves (once just beyond your grasp) could hurl by you--get caught in your web, and hang there beside you-- quivering with squelched momentum... and you could eat them... a danty dish set before the queen... pinky's high... a morsel at a time... and then they'd spill from your fingertips as you licked your fingers-- injesting them again, and again, and again... a poetic feeding frenzy of sprouting ideas caught somewhere in your sinus cavity-- you swallow, and they swim their way through your blood... dropping an idea off at your ribs, your spleen, the tip of your ear...
--every action, every sight-- every sound, a word to be captured and digested... then, some day-- while you're sitting around thinking about all the things you should be doing, you'll sigh... and out comes a butterfly-- a thought with wings... You open your mouth for a nice yawn, and hundreds more fly out... get caught in your hair, your eye lashes, your sweater... and they just keep coming and coming and you can't write fast enough to get them all down...
It's feast or famine with ideas. This one of yours was a fine one-- very inspiring... (Thanks for the butterflies!) Tootles--Charlie
Take care,
Sherry
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in America, Karen Lynn in Texas. :D
Fee
as always your finest Kate...
John
Just be Kate of the Kastle and you'll do fine.
America is a diffo culture, and an English Rose can't survive in NM heat. Yet your poetry is more than equal to NY poets..
But just be Anglo in st donats, and let them come to you...
Yeah, yeah, I know: blushing, eh? Shouldn't - you're THAT good.
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.