Your electrifying reflections: Your electrifying reflections and unsparing reality are my thoughts exactly.
Thank you for stopping by and leaving such thought-provoking and striking commentary. A great honor just to have you here!
As if standing in front of a: As if standing in front of a physical work of art, I want to gaze deep into this bead of wisdom and revel in its facets of expansive meaning for a while. You illustrated artistry with artistry. What genius!
The best of your best, and that's no small thing.
It takes true talent to make: It takes true talent to make the everyday, the colloquial, the truth of ourselves, the raw human condition, a thing of beauty. Anyone who says otherwise doesn't understand the science of eloquence which is often showing readers, not something within the writer, but something within themselves.
I loved diving into your unabashed stream of consciousness and seeing so much of myself there.
A tender, pleasingly honest introspection.
I’m wondering..: I wonder if this is the same rabbit who one day was walking through the woods with a bear.
The bear asked him, 'When you poop, do you have trouble with the poop sticking to your fur?'
The rabbit replied, 'No, not at all.'
So do you know what happened?
The bear took a poop, and wiped himself with the rabbit.
Lovely poem, thanks for sharing it!
I have never read a railroad: I have never read a railroad metaphor deployed in the service of a love poem, but you have shown us how it is done. Bravo! And thank you for posting this to postpoems.
The metaphor of a journey,: The metaphor of a journey, and of a journey of delivery, is well deployed here, and then smashed to smithereens in the last seven lines. While this is a rather dismal conclusion, ir does add great poignancy to the poem.
the majesty of destruction indeed:
Quite a swath of human history – lay in grief-soaked shadows.
But like a daily-used chalkboard, the ever-repeating patterns of history are often erased and forgotten… as too stark would be the truth, and too startled the student – of those ever-repeating patterns of waste… and the small few, that make their gain, from such heaps of carnage.
And “Like the first tremors of war”… the storm clouds, seem to be lumbering over the hill again.
Three separate explosions on the Nord Stream pipelines, seem to be a calling card of escalation.
Europe is now set to freeze this winter. Let us hope it’s a mild one.
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Because, otherwise, our war: Because, otherwise, our war criminals capitalize on our hatred of others. Plus, the rest of the world sees us for the hypocrites we are, when we claim to be on higher ground but shield killers from justice with our flag.
As for the odds of that happening, they are indeed small. I hold little hope. But, likewise, we can do little to stop other war criminals who run amok in super powers of their own.
Two of postpoems foremost: Two of postpoems foremost Poets have already commented so thoroughly on this poem that there is nothing left to say except that this poem operates on several levels---poignancy and prophecy, warning and observation. These are, in my opinion, the aspects of a poem that can be called major, regardless of its vertical length or the contours of its lines.
Wise words indeed. Thank you: I'm not sure why, but your comment reminds me of something Mark Twain said about his father:
'When I was a boy of 14, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be 21, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years'. Live and learn. Have a good one.
Your comment is very much appreciated. Thank you: Why must we do that? In my opinion, war criminals, regardless of where they be, should be removed from power when the opportunity presents itself. I agree with you that there are war criminals among us who've gotten away with their wrongdoing for far too long. They too, should be brought to justice, though realistically speaking, the chances of that happening are small.