|
Post by Brigid Briton on May 15, 2014 19:39:34 GMT -6
a shy tint of palest pink on her pouting lips belied by her knowing eyes
|
|
|
Post by Brigid Briton on May 15, 2014 19:25:49 GMT -6
after storm morning sun illuminates empty robin nest
|
|
|
Post by Brigid Briton on May 15, 2014 15:15:45 GMT -6
Hi eiken, Good to see you again. This is beautiful in its gentle simplicity. A classic! Brigid
|
|
|
Post by Brigid Briton on May 15, 2014 15:14:23 GMT -6
Hi Lisa, Glad to see you back. You've said so much here with just a few words. I feel the frustration and pain of these magnificent wild creatures, prisoners for life. Roaaaaar! Great poem.
|
|
|
Post by Brigid Briton on May 13, 2014 16:58:26 GMT -6
Ah, Sopphey, the passion of youth! This is a sensuous love letter indeed, reflecting the desire to possess and be possessed completely. Wow. I wonder if you ever showed it to the woman in the green dress...
Thank you for sharing this very personal work with us. Brigid
|
|
|
Post by Brigid Briton on May 12, 2014 11:40:11 GMT -6
Poets sing the praises of racing hearts and rosy glows but you, my love, calm my weary heart.
|
|
|
Post by Brigid Briton on May 11, 2014 16:01:02 GMT -6
Hi Cory, This one made me smile, imagining all those cattle (poems) with their hides branded with "your" brand. Times are changing, though, even in cattle country. I understand most animals are branded with ear tags now, which takes some of the wild west out of the equation.
|
|
|
Post by Brigid Briton on May 11, 2014 15:58:17 GMT -6
Thanks for your comment Cory.
|
|
|
Post by Brigid Briton on May 11, 2014 15:57:34 GMT -6
Short and sad. Sometimes it doesn't take a lot of words to say a lot.
|
|
|
Post by Brigid Briton on May 11, 2014 15:55:58 GMT -6
Hi Cory,
Thanks for your comment. Some also add mustard, onions and relish!
|
|
|
Post by Brigid Briton on May 7, 2014 17:15:21 GMT -6
Hi Tim,
Cory is actually right, I was suggesting that you de-bold the "we" too, not just the various parts of the word imaginary. She must have seen your post prior to your edit to have known this. It just seems a mis-placed emphasis to me.
Of course, you can bold or not-bold as you choose, it's just that it isn't necessary for the flow of the poem and it made me stop at that point and wonder "why?" rather than just reading through it.
Brigid
|
|
|
Post by Brigid Briton on May 7, 2014 9:10:27 GMT -6
This is from a couple of days ago on Twitter:
He uses rhyme like ketchup to hide the naked taste of words.
|
|
|
Post by Brigid Briton on May 7, 2014 9:08:36 GMT -6
Hi Tim, I think this is a great challenge. It was fun listening to your music as I wrote. My words seemed a bit down-tempo for your tune, but they were the only words that came to me at the time.
|
|
|
Post by Brigid Briton on May 6, 2014 20:58:49 GMT -6
OK, Tim. I wrote a poem inspired by your music. I don't know that it necessarily goes with the music as a song, but it's what your music brought out of me.
Relentless rain forty days and forty nights feels like forty years of tears.
Thunder and lightning punctuate the sentences of the storm feels like forty years of tears.
Pouring from the heavens as if God’s heart were breaking feels like forty years of tears.
This is a neat challenge. I hope others will participate.
Brigid
|
|
|
Post by Brigid Briton on May 6, 2014 17:56:20 GMT -6
Hi Tim,
This has a delicious "Through the Looking Glass" or maybe even Dr. Seuss quality to it. Very clever and charming. My only suggestion would be that you de-bold the two places that you "bolded" since I don't think it really adds anything, and, in the first instance, I think it actually detracts from the flow of the poem. (Same goes for the italics).
Really neat work!
Brigid
|
|
|
Post by Brigid Briton on May 6, 2014 15:18:26 GMT -6
Hi Cory,
Thanks for starting a new challenge. Rhyme? Not my forte, but here goes:
There once was a raven called Joe, who lived with a poet named Poe, but Poe was hard-hearted, and so Joe departed, to darken the door nevermore.
|
|
|
Post by Brigid Briton on May 4, 2014 12:26:39 GMT -6
Hi Dan, While I enjoyed this tribute to new graduates for all its warm encouragement and reassurance that the fledglings will always be welcome in the nest, it points up the pitfalls of anthropomorphizing animals, even if there are some lovely metaphors there. I say this because I've been an avid follower of Big Red and Ezra, the Cornell red-tailed hawks for the past three years, via a live "nest cam".( cams.allaboutbirds.org/channel/16/Red-tailed_Hawks/) The fledging process isn't as easy as it sounds in this piece. It takes the young hawks at least a week after they're big enough to fly to actually make it out of the nest. Their first attempts are anything but grand and heroic, more like comic, frustrating and dangerous. Once out of the nest, they don't return, and, if they did, there would be no one there to greet them since the parents only maintain the nest during nesting season. Should one of the young try to return the next nesting season, it would be driven away by its parents, as they prepare for their next batch of babies. Sadly, all three of the fledglings from last years brood died as the result of accidents within the first month or so of fledging. I'm not trying to be a wet blanket on your graduation poem, and you do have some nice imagery, but the reality of the hawk family isn't something we'd really wish on our own kids. Even though the parent hawks are devoted to their young, once out of the nest, it's the end of their family life. It's really great to be able to fly, but the trade-off is that you're really on your own once you do! Brigid
|
|
|
Post by Brigid Briton on May 3, 2014 7:22:14 GMT -6
Today's prompt from #heartsoup on Twitter is "solitary smile". Why not give it a try?
Horror and disbelief were written on the faces in the crowd. The police moved in on his solitary smile.
|
|
|
Post by Brigid Briton on May 3, 2014 7:14:35 GMT -6
Hi Dan,
I like it! Somewhat of a departure (from terra firma) for you. It's mysterious with a couple of different interpretations. It's good to see you back.
Brigid
|
|
|
Post by Brigid Briton on Apr 30, 2014 7:47:58 GMT -6
She misplaced her glasses, then her purse, and, most recently, her car, but what disturbed her most was forgetting how to love.
|
|