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Welcome, Jack
Folder:
Family & Friends One slow-moving summer
my sorrow was interrupted
by a part of God,
a wandering citizen of eternity,
an unwritten story
of tears and joy
colliding with a
crowd of rain
and shining like
the best idea.
I was alive with you.
Welcome, practicing angel
to this whirl of days;
not heaven,
but there is this:
chandelier mornings
and frozen infinities at night,
your unpolished surprises of summer
and all your imaginings scribed
in the shadow of
awakening
and so much love to keep
those sacred dreams
alive for
a lifetime.
I may not be there
with every new step,
to see the frogs that didn't
get away,
to hear your thoughts on
frogs and teachers and
philosophy and the tired
soul of sunsets,
but take this with you,
Heaven's brilliant plan,
miracle unfinished:
take the promise that
one pilgrim heart
walks with you.
Patricia Joan Jones
"Chandelier mornings and
"Chandelier mornings and frozen infinities of night . . ." Wow! Her ability to turn a phrase never, and I mean NEVER, fails to amaze me. And she is as close to nature as Vergil; as close to philosophy as Pop Stevens; and as close to cosmology as Dante. Her poetry is not just a fine art, but a refining art: she makes the reader better during the act of reading her poetry. Her greatness is the most unique, and the rarest, that I have ever encountered on postpoems.
J-Called
It's a new kind of joy to see
It's a new kind of joy to see my work through the eyes of someone who truly appreciates it. Not enough words for my gratitude.
Nice line
"the tired/soul of sunsets," Every now or later, a line leaps from a poem. This one leaped, wrestled me to my poetic feet where I stood and faced such sunsets and cheered. Bravo penning! ~S~
Dear poet, coming from a
Dear poet, coming from a brilliant wordweaver such as yourself, that eloquent comment is deeply satisfying. Thank you!