The slender shape of your: The slender shape of your lines perfectly deploys the poignancy of the emotion that the poem conveys. In sharing this aspect of your life, you have spoken to others who have grieved similarly but cannot completely articulate it.
I have been writing Tanka (as: I have been writing Tanka (as I can barely manage Haiku/Senryu) for more than a decade and I have several hundred here on postpoems: in my opinion, you are showing tremendous respect for the poem. I am in something of a minority because I do believe that part of the purpose of writing poetry of any kind is to do so with skill, and, in the Asian forms, that means lines of 5/7/5 in Haiku and Senryu, and 5/7/5/7/7 for Tanka and Kyoka. There is an online magazine called Prune Juice which specialized in Senryu and Kyoka---and I have learned a lot from reading its contents (although the syllabic rules are now followed faithfully in its pages). I have really come to admire your use of the form, and I applaud the accomplishment you have set forth on postpoems. People, here as elsewhere, are a little too quick to criticize, and not quick enough to appreciate. I would prefer to be a little superlative in my comments because my timespan is short, and I would rather spend it making compliments than criticisms. (Besides, I usually have enough to confess to Father Gregory without adding internet squabbles to it.) So I look forward to your next postings in this form, and I know you will continue showing us how.
Great write: Vulnerability and suffering become a porn to consume, all their own. Empty calories of craving when a void exists within, and is not being filled.
Thank you, Stella, glad you: Thank you, Stella, glad you so thoroughly enjoyed it. That line's creation was when the pieces around it came together and it felt fluid from there : )
Post 1967 Detroit Riots: List a City
polarize a divded
natiin
killed an era
createe another
way of not
living next door.
.
Lady A
Sorry for yr loss, the past
ashed lasts a lifetime. My only
saughter died if cancer age 43,
ashes, each picture is precious.
Empathizng in losses of the never
to be firgotten. Good sharing.
Evokative. Thanks for writing
and publishing piece.
.
~A~.
If I Met Me At 7 or 18 or 25: After I dashed thoughts of unintegrated schizophenia - what would I say on a mountain? Hang in there it gets better then worse then better again. Or your only daughter dies at age 43. Cultivate friends your age or younger, older friends die first. I do not know what I'd impart about the future: Nam, 09/11, Desert Storm, 1967-8 Race Riots/ Rebellion, Malcolm X, Obama, Covid-19. The struggle - to live. Birth pain. I think I'd embrace them, not go, they are me. Maturation metaphor/theme, a newer you - a better model - ok. :D
.
~A~.
I do greatly enjoy this style: I do greatly enjoy this style of writing. lt seems well suited to my temperament. I'm not sure how pure I am. An expert on Japanese poetry would need to make that determination. Thank you for reading and commenting
You have described an: You have described an experience which was inflicted upon me by my parents from the time I entered kindergarten, September, 1963. From that time forward, my parents were very articulate about what a disappointment to them I had become, or was becoming, or would most certainly becoming (depending on what part of my life they were discussing). My paternal grandparents, the only grandparents I really knew, were entirely aghast at this. However, I took great comfort in an article I read in Life magazine in June, 1968, an article celebrating and explicating the conception and composition of Mary Shelley's first novel, Frankenstein, in 1818. Mary's mother died of sepsis shortly after giving her birth. For the rest of his life, Mary's father reminded her that she had killed her mother, and that she would never be the sort of intellectual writer her mother was. (I think Mary was far greater.) The writer of the Life article suggested---and I agree with him---that Frankenstein is primarily motivated by this sense of failure that Mary felt, and that she transferred to the Monster in his long monologue which is very near the mathematical center of the novel. This knowledge, from that article and then confirmed by my attempts to read the novel, was my first venture out from under the pressing thumbs of my parents, Lloyd and Betty. I have been grateful to Mary Shelley since that time.
I wish that your poem had been available to me in 1967 and 1968 when I began to understand what my parents' discouragements had done, and were still doing, to me. And I think your poem will also serve as an encouragement to others who have been similarly afflicted---as I suspect this sort of thing still happens far more than is admitted. In this way, your poem will have an impact on lives that is more than merely literary---in the same way that Frankenstein has had such an impact. The great Poet, Wallace Srevens (whose work I admire without least reservation), whom I have been reading and studying since 1978, once said that the main purpose of poetry is to help people live their lives. I believe that is true, because I believe everything Pop Stevens ever wrote, but I think that you, too----in this poem and several others that I have read recently---have accomplished that high calling here on postpoems also. And for that, sir, you have my applause and gratitude.
PS. Are you familiar with Philip Larkin's poem, "This Be The Verse" ?
I Need To Check Baby Videos: The japanese 2 year old quads are heart warmnling. Kids busted by parents a hoot too. Something to make your whole self go: "Awwwwwwww!"
:D