Yes, it is: Yes, it is
It's very sad
A life cut short
What makes it bad
Cannot be measured
In tears alone
Life must be treasured
Though it's unknown
We struggle each and every day
To find the meaning of this play
We think of those we've left behind
And hope to attain peace of mind
A life-affirming outlook I: A life-affirming outlook I can get behind!
The blithe, witty and lighthearted tone of your accessible expression certainly does have the feel and metaphorical significance of tumbling . . . into a stratosphere of renewal and hope.
I absolutely love this:
"Each time I tumble a little lower,
I get higher in my self
The hope I hang prayers on hovers
And its smile is contagious"
I can relate, and yes, I'll come along!
We deserve so much more than: We deserve so much more than the "menagerie", as you concluded with striking wordplay, in your wonderful poem of empowerment and self-worth. So many metaphorical delights spell "I'm finished!" until the very satisfying end when the speaker, with dramatic flair and wit, puts an end to the charade.
"Memory Birds" is packed with razor-sharp lines that certainly do not flit away on wings of mediocrity. As spoken-word poetry, this charming work plays hardball with the best of them.
Remarkable wordcrafting in both poems.
I look forward to that: I look forward to that posting. The homage and respect offered to our host, Poetry, is, in its courteous behavior, one more aspect of your greatness as a Poet. Although we have not been long acquainted, I truly believe that you are one of Postpoems' great ones---one of the chosen few whose poems are, for your readers, a privilege of reading.
As you suggest it shall be: As you suggest it shall be added onto the list of poems to be posted in season. Thank you for your kind and candid interaction. And I offer homage and respect to our most charming host, Poetry.
sand squishing between these: sand squishing between these gregarious toes
extricate, exfolioate skin to soul, ones woes
other kids run off with buckets, spades and hoes
but you and I, barefooted, comb the beach in rows
Wow! This is an exquisitely: Wow! This is an exquisitely beautiful metaphorical perspective. If I may be so bold as to make a suggestion to a Poet of your stature, this deserves to be more than a comment . . . it should be an independent poem, written in your inimitable and always verbally skilled style.
It is my hope that this: It is my hope that this independence does not stray too far from its connectedness, where it the wards of the seasons each in turn are poets and the star their Muse. Their watchful gaze are its words beaming and radiating abroad their lines and stanzas; undulating unto landscapes - a varied tapestry of poems which is the solid and structured form of their rumination of all subject and scope both great and small, abstract and concrete!
Thank you very much for that: Thank you very much for that comment. You obviously understand Prayer in its theological meaning and importance, and I thank you for visiting my poem.
One of the purposes of Poetry: One of the purposes of Poetry is to cast ordinary things in new or unusual lights. I confess that I have never thought of bees and their honey in that way before. Some ten years before I began to write Poetry seriously, I had considered---and done quite a bit of reading in preparation for---becoming a beekeeper. Still never considered bees and honey as poets and Poetry. Your poem has widened and expanded my view tonight; thank you, sir.
True prayer, communing and: True prayer, communing and drawing nigh, as against wishful thinking and using our imagined bankcard on that magnificent ATM in the Sky.
Thank you for your comment. : Thank you for your comment. Your comment is a beautiful poem, of and through itself, and indepedent of the comment process or of my Tanka poem. I appreciate what your poem says, and that you chose to cast your comment in the form of a poem.
Thank you very much. I have: Thank you very much. I have been struck by gout, again, such that three of my left hand's fingers are not functional right now: I thought this was impose a temporary silence (and I am one of the most verbose people on earth). Then I though how the Earth cannot be silenced, and continues its artwork through all four seasons, an encouragement to me to work through the pain to continue with something. I hope that makes sense; the gout tends to knock me for a loop.
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