PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I’m overjoyed that you found: I’m overjoyed that you found some comfort in my expression and that you, so generously, took the time to dive deep with exquisite and precise insights. Coming from you that’s a coveted gift.    I’m still praying for your wellbeing and wishing you the very best of everything. You are a beacon. 

This poe can be considered: This poe can be considered spiritual survival 101.  Writing this comment from the twists and turns of a bad patch right now, I can look again to Hope after reading this poem.  That, alone, proves its legitimacy as a masterpiece.  I have missed Patricia's presence on this site, recently, and so the appearance of this poem is an event which carries several levels of impotance.   The poem's logical progress occurs in three sections.  In the first, or Bonsai, section, the poem describes and laments "the artificiality" of existence that the present state of society forces on to us.  After describing what a Bonsai existence is, she brilliantly locates its cause in the loss of the sight, due to cloudiness, of the starfields.  This then leads into what I would call the Starfield section.  Even as her perspective on the Cosmos experences a shrinkage, or drawing back, that the perspective will open again and briing back everything that is both beautiful and lasting; and this activates the last section of the poem, which can be called the Lasting Beautiful.  She realizes that the Lasting Beautiful can be attained again because she has never left God; and that is because God will never foresake her, as the great Hebrews epistile in the Bible declares.  And at that point, the poem ends, with that triumphant orchestral cadence of the final line.

lol love this one. put a real: lol love this one. put a real smile on my face. thanks for an enjoyable read

“It is the holy art of: “It is the holy art of staying soft when the air is stiff with tension, of whispering calm when the storm is not yours, but rages through the person you adore.”   That stanza is a poem in itself and so flaring with the actual experience of love, not just the pretty concept, that it seems emblazoned, instinctively, on our true self, our inner being. That is greatness.    How deftly you cut through all the fluff, the cliches, the fantasies and tropes and got right to it. You gave an impeccable, heart-clutching example of love—the rock-solid, imperfect, ultimately perfect, kind—and expressed it with indisputable clarity.    Soon every ephemeral, counterfeit kind of affection seems like fading smoke next to a connection on the soul level you described when we are “met in the stillness/ and held as if we were light”.    Sublime truth.   

Part homage to Cavafy, part: Part homage to Cavafy, part celebration of Love that dances to whatever music fills its heart and part tribute to precious spirits with a talent for freedom.    The prudes can just find something else to do with their time. 

And me, blunt-force trauma,: And me, blunt-force trauma, surely