For nearly five decades I: For nearly five decades I have loved Poetry, especially astronomical Poetry, and this poem is magnificent in its use of astronomical imagery to convey the declaration of love. And you have given these lines a very successful rhyme pattern as well. I cannot remember any other astronomical poem quite like this one; I believe it is unique in my entire reading experience. I applaud your accomplishment.
I really enjoyed this one my: I really enjoyed this one my favorite verse is
"If freedom's now a privilege, not a right
Then why the fuck are you telling me how to live my life?"
Totally relatable, I think everyone has felt this way at some point. Awesome new piece
First, I think this is one of: First, I think this is one of the most important poems I have read here in a long time. So, if my comment becomes verbose, it is because of my immediate admiration of this poem.
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The question that concludes the poem strikes me as rhetorical (in the best way) because the answer to the question is contained within the poem. The lost world you are trying to recover is summoned by invocation and evocation into the poem, where your poetic words preserve it after the individual components have passed from the material world. But, as great [oems do, you have spiritualized them in this poem, and therefore made them lasting. We see this same process in Wallace Stevens' poems that reconnect with his ancestors after his geneaological studies; in Eliot's Four Quartets; and in Masters' Spoon River Anthology. And it is not just the modernist poems that do this: we have Vergil's nostalgia for the lost bucolic world in his first two collection of poetry and in glimpses scattered through The Aeneid; and in Dante's Divine Comedy which the Argentine poet, J. L. Borges, believed had been constructed for one, and only one, purpose---to summon Beatrice back into Dante's presence just one more time. Citing these precedents establishes, I think, the way your poem fits into the Canon, and how it reminds us how to summon our own lost worlds back.
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The ancient Egyptians believed that the preservation of a person's name in records (which, for them, was mostly their massive monuments and elaborately inscribed tombs) that person was assured of immortality. That is, by invoking them with a word, their names, they are given an eternal presence. In the same way as they did, you---along with Stevens, Eliot, Vergil and Dante---show us how our lost worlds are only a word away, a word of evocation. In my own life, two particular periods are the most precious to me, and have often seemed the most remote and unrecoverable (when I am at my weakest which, in old age, seems to be happening too often); and your poem has reminded me that these two periods are not lost to me, they are entirely recoverable as long as I put words to them, and put them into my words. And for that reminder, and an example how to do so, I thank you most wholeheartedly and enthusiastically.
Thank you for this comment;: Thank you for this comment; my delay is no reflection of a lack of gratitude, just a reflection of my own incompetence during a (hopefully temporary) bad time.
I found this poem a little difficult---hard to articulate the chaotic thoughts of a twelve year old. I find that, despite my expectations, I am not much wiser about myself then as I thought it would be. So this poem made me a little nervous, but your comment, your understanding of my intention, keeps this poem from being deleted. I am very grateful for your comment; my delay in response is a reflection of my own incompetence right now, and not in any way a reflection of ingratitude or apathy. I am, have been, and shall always be grateful for your words---whether in your magnificent Poems, or your always wise and encouraging comments. You are a great Poet; your words, in whatever form they take, always---always---constitute an event.
a glow of happiness to see you here:
There is an old Chinese expression…
"Better to be a dog in times of tranquillity, than a human in times of chaos."
How I wish it were so, to be that dog.
But here we are… in the deep dark, before the plunge.
So let us expend everything we have, to be the last embers of light.
And hour by hour, day by day… turn to God and pray for a miracle.
For it is a miracle we need… as the bow of the ship, slips below the waves.
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This is a unique poem,: This is a unique poem, describing your dad and his love for cars in a short but sweet style. Nice to see something different. Keep writing
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