you set the table of imagination and permit each reader to partake of the dishes he selects -- this is truly a great piece Jude - peace and love my friend -- Jon Michael
What you do with your words is paint a picture...a very real picture....and that picture makes us feel...what was... what is...and how it's perceived to be. You are one heck of a poet.
For me, this poem feels so sad. We all want to leave something significant behind and this poem seems to touch upon that wish. There's no one to appreciate these objects for the memories they may offer. An excellent poem:)
Sheila
The first three stanzas of your poem are really like a painting.
Then comes the mystery of those shadows and the final stanza
with your intriguing conclusion. I like the way the last two lines give a particular meaning/direction to the atmosphere in the poem.
Perhaps your dreams of a hoped-for reality were visions that has left you weary of waiting? All that beauty(ideals?)fallen to decay(abandoned?)and you can't see through the window to the horizon. But I see hope here in spite of it all. The shadows linger and those dreams, although too painful to remember, "...are waiting to be dined upon." You'll get the wind back in your sails. If I'm off the mark, it wouldn't be the first time. Strong images, Jude! Atmospheric to the extreme. Reading your poetry, one embarks on a journey and who knows where we'll land...
Unoccupied?? Ooooo... I think not - rather pre-occupied. All that mulling over, the chewing-the-fat as signalled by those stubbed cigar(ettes), seeking to rekindle and grasp those groped-for memories that are as ripe-and-ready as grapes on the vine, yet always somehow cloaked, disguised and just out of reach. The sense of waiting is as palpable as a strong pulse in the neck, and tension added to by all the doubts and questioning, pitting head versus heart, perhaps. I love these kinds of fascinating de-constructs, begging questions, as they do, about what has passed, what is present reality and what is unknown future. I find, though, that I stutter over the word "shattered" to describe the window in the 4th stanza; I read it constantly as "shuttered", which perhaps explains why I can actually "hear" it in my mind as I read it, as if that longed-for wind is suddenly stirred and banging it hard to announce its return. Nice work, Kartero. Reminds me very much of the Bridal Suite at Ellis Stores in Lincoln where I stayed on my US road trip recently. Methinks that vase of wilting blooms just needs to be replaced by a sumptuous pyramid of exotic fruit to cause el Levante to blow away those disfiguring sands and to infuse that crystal ball with fresh life! Bon Appetit! :)) xx
Magnificant Jude. I've never read a more visual poem. I felt like I was in the room and could feel the emotions. I could never pick a "the best" of yours but I can add this to the many that vie for that honor. It's a very long list :-) You're truly gifted my friend. Each of your poems is a present wrapped up in extraordinary talent waiting for the reader.
This poem brings me to the days when I was married and had my family intact. Now everyone is scattered. The table to me symbolizes a place that you gather to nourish your body and soul with good food and good conversation that cements your relationships.
Nicely penned my dear friend,
Amber "V"
It is that for every action there is an equal but opposite reaction. For every party, there waits an empty table. Nothing is permanent, everything is in a constant state of flux. It all depends on where you step on whether it is good or bad. ~ Sara
Used, comes to mind, and left, a life used and left, endulgence and left, nothing living left, gone, another table ready for the setting, LIFE! a great write Jude! Jasmin Horst
Hi Jude, this made me think of an old stone house that I just seen this past weekend as I peeked into it's window and got a view of the old kitchen. You always paint a picture with your words... thank you for sharing...
This took me to that veranda overlooking the ocean, it sat me in that half rusted lawn chair staring at the remains of yesterday's smiles, and it made me ache with the pain of what once was. Very nicely done Jude one of my favorites of yours for sure.
A lifetime of hopes and memories all collected in one spot, a half-life of times gone by, awaiting a good clean up and a new beginning. Isn't it so that we tend to gather in the kitchen and share life around the table, as though it were the heart and soul of our home? Incredible images, many smudges and sketches of people and time gone by that have turned the table into a canvas of life. Excellent work, Jude.
Take care,
Sherry
David Hightower’s lyrically expansive meditation on the whims of fate and the unpredictability of the human condition fill the pages of THE HANGING MAN DREAMS with thrilling music and mesmerizing imagery. Hightower’s richly infused voice echoes the e
A further collection of poems, many from years in the Middle East, but also the California San Francisco and Central Coast areas (Santa Cruz, Carmel, Big Sur, Berkeley, etc.).
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most enjoyable and great imagery
Peace be with you
William
Barbara Henry
Regards
Rudi Massyn
Sandie Angel :o)
Ron
Correction, Dawn: Hell of a Poet!
Sheila
Remnants of what was and possibly what we inevitably be.
"unoccupied table" sounds like the aftermath of what was.
Thank you wishing you all the best,
Gwendolyn
Cheers,
Dan
Then comes the mystery of those shadows and the final stanza
with your intriguing conclusion. I like the way the last two lines give a particular meaning/direction to the atmosphere in the poem.
Axilea
Lin
burnt-out embers, smoky days, all the pieces of our lives, and as Kate says with preoccupation.
John
Nicely penned my dear friend,
Amber "V"
Your lens is as sharp as ever. I can see it all as if I were there.
~B
Great Jude, just great!
Georg
In Spirit,
Bear
fee
Take care,
Sherry
EDWIN
Be always safe,
Karen
Sage