Catherine Munsee, you've got some nice poems in this paper...
That's beautiful :-)
Steve, there's quite a bit of background information to this poem you wrote.
'Annette's Dream' 'Annette had a dream and shared it with me the next morning. In the dream, she came upon some children in a forest meadow at the height of autumn. The trees were in fall colors of red, orange, yellow and rust, a scented breeze moved the falling leaves, the sunlight and the shadows angled lazily - it was the perfect cliche of an October afternoon. As she approached the children, she saw that they were playing around a small pile of pale gray ashes. They would reach into the pile, clasp a handful, raise their hands and let the ashes pour slowly into the wind. They were laughing and joyous. She asked them what they were doing and they replied that they were playing with my ashes. When I told Steve about Annette's dream, he wrote 'Child's Play'.'
I created an art piece bringing together my friend Annette's dream and your poem and the dream narrative, poem, and art piece were displayed together at the USCF/Mount Zion Comprehensive Cancer Center - all back in 1999. Thank you for your poem with its guiding imagery and beautiful language. Darin.
Nice - I like this. You knew the Mineral Kingdom does yet live. despite humanities best effort to the contrary.
Yes Monte - she must have been a grand-daughter of Jonathon Livingston. still trying to show mankind his true way, his more noble purpose...
Monte, your poems are so beautiful. This one gave me chills; I almost cried. Such a compassionate description of a moment - wildlife rehab is so sad sometimes, but so worth it too. It's a labor of love, that's for sure. Kudos to you for being who you are.
Thank you, Amy. I am glad you did. You communicate your thoughts so well.
Puts me right there, feeling and seeing a beautiful view...
Just for posterity's awareness, the adjective in the fourth line should be "sharp", not "rare". I wrote this for an ornithologist, so it would be a crime to say a species is rare that actually isn't. It was fixed in the actual Journal (thanks to Heidi's kind acknowledgment of my email), but not on here. Glad you liked it Jassen! I liked your poem, too.
Fascinatingly, I too wrote of a mountain prior to reading this today.
Thanks Dave. It was a great day!
Great poem and tribute. Always best to express it while it's fresh in your heart.
This sure gave me a laugh today. We hang clothes in our dining room after several efforts trying to dry outside. What the Hell?
beautiful poem, thanks
heartbreaking and beautifully bittersweet. love this.
I love this poem. It just lifted my spirits, as an aging falling apart older woman who used to run, the meaning went far beyond the giving up of running. It was such a graceful way of accepting what can't be changed.
(Addressed to the above) Yes, at least, I did when I had the time (and will continue to do so when I've found where I misplaced the elusive said time). Who's asking, and why?
Indiana summers, passionate night skies, heat lightning, fire flies, trill of whip-poor-wills wafting.
Are you the same Joshua Commander who reads for LibriVox?
In Print This Week:
Aug 14, 2014
vol XXV issue 33
The North Coast Journal Weekly
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