We've lost that sense of humor that helps guide us through : ..the struggle. And that innocence? I believe it's been left outside the pulsing wires of our most modern existance. Only that, inside it's us that are the neglected dogs being rained on.
I agree totally. It reminds..: I agree totally. It reminds me of a prayer my friend used to say at night when he was a kid..
Now I lay me down to sleep
These hunger pangs are running deep
If you see me, please don't wake
Unless you're giving me burgers and a shake
Where has the innocence of childhood gone?
I like the terrifying wisdom: I like the terrifying wisdom in this poem. I also applaud the repetition in the last three lines---it reminds me (and I cannot explain why) of the sound of the celesta at the conclusion of the third movement of Shostakovich's Fifth Symphony. Poetry approaching music was an aspect that the great Poet, T. S. Eliot sought, and in this poem you have achieved that.
I hope I am not intruding by: I hope I am not intruding by posting a second comment on this poem. After respond to your reply on my earlier comment, I read the poem again, and again, and I may very well be reading it even more today. I love its brevity; I love the repetition of the word "stone," like a chime, and I love the "cozy" feeling in the last five lines. The insight that being together (I think of lovers holding each other) is, in itself, a kind of shelter that we all long for adds a surge of power to this poem, and makes its brevity a kind of artistic deception (I mean this as a compliment not a negative criticism)---because the power that is released from that brevity, like the power released from an atom in during fusion in a star's core, is HUGE. I am not a scholar, but if I were teaching a course on Poetry, or even talking to one inidividual about what Poetry is, I would use this Poem as one of my examples. You should be very, very . . . and again I say, VERY . . . proud of this magnificent literary accomplishment. Please make certain that you have a back-up copy, even multiple back-up copies, on file.
Wow! Your statement: Wow! Your statement that Poetry is language distilled is one of the best, and most succinct, definitions of Poetry that I have ever read . . . and I say that with the credibility of having read Poetry for fifty years as of last month. I am going to take a screenshot of those words to preserve it in the permanent files on my laptop, because that definition is so classic. I wish it could be added to every textbook on Poetry and taught to every high school student being exposed to Poetry for the first time. If I had known those words when I first entertained, in myself, the ambition to write Poetry (which I first felt in the Autumn of 1975), my preparatory work and study of the forms of Poetry would have been much easier and better organized. You have really "struck gold" in coining that phrase; and though the last couple of days have been difficult, medically, for me, you have lightened my burdens and brought some sparkle to my Friday with these words. Thank you, very much, for one of the most important and impactful replies I have ever received.
Thanks friends, I am working: Thanks friends, I am working hard as heck on this 'fish face foot' prose and so very very greatly appreciate yall stopping by with the nice condiments
Thank you for using your: Thank you for using your sharp and visionary perception to pinpoint exactly what I was going for, exactly what I was attempting to metaphorically capture. Your stunning confirmation and your far-reaching, incisive and exact interpretation felt like that moment when a hockey puck flies into a net or a bat hits the ball.
You granted me a win, and a gorgeous one at that. I am also delighted whenever you revisit your grandparents' patch of Heaven and bring it vividly into my mind's eye.
I can now call this a very good day. Boundless gratitude.