A freshness that befits café: A freshness that befits café scenes and live music lounges, like Ric's Café and a slew of other iconic films. The music and vocal textures are soothing and the lyrics together create a pleasant weave. Thanks for having shared.
Invitation to go beyond the surface : Abortion serves the ruling class. It first got pushed by the aristocracy in the late 1800's and early 1900's to limit the size of poor populations and reduce the mouths to feed, also reducing the need for the rich to share crumbs with the poor in order to prevent revolutions. It was particularly targeted against the poor black population of America, and so effective that, at least until recently, the black population of the U.S. was the only racial population not to grow in number since Roe v Wade. No one really talks about this disturbing reality.
Beyond that troubling truth, I find life to be way to fragile and precious, even in all of it's existing harsh elements, to support snuffing out the candle when it's just begun to burn, but I am also aware that we need ask ourselves something: Why is the ruling class willing to suddenly give up this useful element of population control? What do they know about the path ahead that we don't?
I can only recommend, my friend, no matter how you feel about abortion, taking this deeper than the culture war invites you to think about it. The culture wars are fought among the working class, mainly. Isn't it funny how they flare up at times when the class divide is exploding? Ever since the housing crisis, if you think about it, it's been unfolding...
Wow, heavy, at times dark, and thoroughly a wondrous reflection: One of the more unique poems I've read, for sure, with your choices of metaphor and allusion that were sewn throughout this. How it all threaded into a tribute, a memorial quilt of durable fibers, wow'd me most. Unique, and a truly special find for a lucky stumbler as myself.
Not a squished creature: But perhaps a metamorphisis. At a point in our lives, we live the wonders of being a caterpillar. But when we're ready to reach higher, it's time for wings. Such devastation, just maybe, means we're ready to go to somewhere that relationship couldn't take us. I wish that for you. May the anguish you laid out for us in these words lead, ultimately, to a new and greater joy. Don't disgard what you had, but let it be a springboard when your heart is ready.
The very same illusion that causes many car accidents: Very nice, standing alone. Even better with your poem emblazoned on an image, where-in both enhance each other.
Progress is often an: Progress is often an illusion. Most everything has a trade off. Live longer? Take each day more for granted. Better technology to communicate? Less connection with your community. More consistent access to food? Dependency shifts from nature's hand to a wealthy man's. Materials for a sturdier, longer lasting home? Had to fill the environent with toxins that have a longer lasting impact on habitats of other creatures. And so on..
haha! To be fair, it could be: haha! To be fair, it could be a naked lady! (Though I don't know if that makes it any different, depends on perception, I imagine.) It depends whether I'm speaking in my own voice or channeling someone elses ; ) But I honestly didn't think of that possible reaction, at all. That's amazing feedback on top of the generous, kind remarks that came before it.
Hoping to see you around, soon. May all be really well with you, Stella. The watering hole is drier while you are away.
Thank you, Patricia. For a: Thank you, Patricia. For a long time, I've wanted to write a poem about our relationship with the water cycle that was at least modestly worthy of conveying what, at least as it seems to me, is at the heart of the matter. Logically, I could explain, but until I started writing this yesterday, I couldn't really piece together the right expression of emotions to reach the heart strings. Until I began to jot down the verse wrapped around the 'abandoned child/rain drop' metaphor, I only felt like I had bits and pieces, figuring it might develop into what I hoped to convey at some point in the future, or just be scrap to look back at and built upon with another write. Once those words came out, it felt like there something really worth sharing. I'm glad that it touched you as deeply as I hoped it might touch some people out there. That shared feedback from you is received with great gratitude.
This jarring but brilliant: This jarring but brilliant work lingers in the heart and mind after the last unsparing line is read. Seething with reality in a way only great talent can convey, this portrait of the agony of mental illness is both awareness-raising and painful. But it's a pain we need if we are to evolve into a compassionate society.
Well done!
Had a friend once that: Had a friend once that skipped their meds and it takes 6-8 days, a whole week for the meds to first kick in. And so ensued a roller coaster ride for us all that surrounded them for the next fortnight. Thanks for sharing.
And of course, yes, God shows: And of course, yes, God shows up. We are often 'forced' to recognise a 'god' whose raiment consists of religious trappings, codified regulations, congregational strictures, and doctrinal diatribes. But when He shows up, He asks of us, even requires of us: "will I find faith." Walking in faith is not easy and it is also lonely and personal even in the company of like minded and like hearted believers. Walking together in faith has its benefits and its purposes but for the soul that resides within us, this journey can and is sustained by all that is "enough to turn fists into open hands." That is when we truly are and when we truly receive and are fallen aware of who we are in the Master's heart. I love the pond image as an openness, skyward, in its vast, unfiltered receiving posture, and so take within myself that image as the chalice of the soul that is gold in His handiwork and polished each first light from the first instant of being formed in the secret place. Thanks for sharing and pardon the meditation prompted by your poetic words.
Amazing. You combined the: Amazing. You combined the best of whispering, graceful word-pirouettes with bold, avant-garde visual statements. I would say that your experiment was a raging success. Applause!
"the lakes locked in
the: "the lakes locked in
the ponds that look like puddles to the gods
but are whole watery nations to their fish, diving beetles and frogs
the creeks, streams, and rivers, as well
the left overs to the oceans to hold"
The best environmental poems, in my opinion, show us, with gripping vibrancy, just what we lost, and you accomplished this with jolts of electrifying language that could pierce the heart of anyone who cares about our suffering planet.
This crucial elegy for the lifeblood of the Earth was so moving and masterfully spun, I wanted to cry, especially when I got to this part:
"we fail to see
the child, in each rain drop
that we left abandoned
at some distant,
overcrowded bus stop
swallowed into the bustling noise
where-in runaways drown
into the background"
Bravo and Bravo!
Much enjoyed the allusion and: Much enjoyed the allusion and the flow of word and thought. We had dreamcatchers about the house at one time, when the children were small and feathers and tinsel were all the rage. Somehow that was also brought to mind in reading this. Not always do we have roses stop by and smell but the dream catchers and the sun catchers were ever present sentinels of the soul. Thanks for sharing.