Great, funny . . .
I love this poem!
Spoke to me of a long ago summer camping trip with a long dead friend. Thanks.
Nice. I like.
Do you believe the Golden Age is already here?
I do. So now the job of waking everybody up to this fact!
I love your Poem! You're able to see the Life Cycle as well, so that means we are Kindred Spirits. Now, is the time, " We Kindred Spirits are to gather together as we may. I see on the near Horizon the Dawn of a New Day. Here is a short piece I wrote some time ago and it seems to accompany your piece, "Paying It Forward/Fall Day," quite well. What do you think?
The rush of wind oer’ pine bough
The soft hiss, and now the low distant muffled roar
Echoed by the gentle howl of wind-swept Oak branch
Makes your spirit soar
Albert Chenault Jr
As a former short term student there in the Bay area, at CR to be exact, your poetic work activated such intense memories within me; of even the scent of the early morning air by the Bay. A uniquely cool, moist, lively smell of Earth and Sea come together. A fond pleasant memory for me at least. Thank you so much for this. :)
I like the idea that you have to be "in...tune" to enjoy it. I like that a lot!
That's really good Mr Bryant, I enjoyed reading that greatly.
Wow! That is beautiful!
Wonderful to teach and be reminded constantly of the despair we once felt as though it had never been felt by anyone before us. I wonder if that's the only way to feel relief; we cannot survive constantly being bled by such despair. To teach implies perspective, distance. Or does it?
I love the storytelling and imagery!
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.
In Print This Week:
Apr 27, 2017
vol XXVIII issue 17
North Coast Journal
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