white as driven snow -
until I laid my marks
like awkward footprints
trailed across it
line on line
always in the same direction
never coming back
where am I now?
and did I then
desert my words?
leave them in the cold
fend for themselves?
They have to make their way...
it is the law
so be it then
The moon petals the sea. Rose petals the sea. Stone sea. Stone petals. Rose petals of stone. Stone rising before me. Sea moves. How moves...
extract from the poem Koi by John Burnside All afternoon we've wandered from the pool to alpine beds and roses ...
Hello everyone who follows David King (My Father). On behalf of the family this post is to let you know that Dad sadly passed away, peacefu...
It all depends, you see, how you go about it. And that I cannot tell you, for that will be dictated by you and by you knowing your friends...
What makes us suppose that only the living grieve? Now all but lost in this new and familiar world of tall, leaning-together buildings...
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Damn, that's sad. Of course, you're making us think of our children . . . I would say it takes a lot of faith, but I don't exactly believe it . . . I think it takes resignation . . . there's just no other way around it, and so you hitch your pants up and walk on . . . Nice poem (although I have to say that my favorite one so far was the one a few posts back with the image of the trees waving at us; very nice)
This reminds me of one I wrote a few years ago:
The Truth Behind All Poems
a blank sheet
of paper before
I did this to it.
in the snow
mean next to nothing.
Learn to read between
Kids get it.
They know exactly
what to do when they
there’s no place for
perfection in an
Saturday, 16 July 2005
Another 'Dave Original' ... resonating deeply.
Food for thought here Dave. For some reason, and I don;t quite know why, the poem reminds me of an old saying:
Three things never return -
the spent arrow,
the spoken word,
the lost opportunity.
I like what The Weaver of Grass quoted... perfect fit for your imagery...
so much so that my short attention span has completely deviated from whatever it was that I was going to comment...
i like it though. :)
Wonderful. As read literally, it hums to writers and metaphorically, it is so true of life!
"They have to make their way...or not" so very true.
So glad your words are able to make their way to me and sift and settle into that warm, appreciative place.
Very nice, Dave. I like the lonely image.
Mr. Philoctetes Digressius aka L. E. McKenna
Hi, you've given me a morsel or two on which to chew, you have! I do think you've got a point with your resignation. And another nice point: how much is it necessary to believe the words you read - or write? I am much cheered by your remark about liking the one with the trees that waved to us. Thanks for all your remarks.
Very enjoyable, your poem. Glad I hadn't known it beforehand - it might have influenced me unduly. Thanks for putting it up, though.
Encouraging as always. Thanks.
Weaver of Grass
Yes, that gel somehow, though I don'y think I ever heard it before now. Strange ways these words behave!
I sympathise. I recognise that state of affairs very well indeed! Thanks.
It pleases me that you were able to read it literally.
Surprising, perhaps, how often they do!
So am I kass, so am I. Thanks for the cheery comment.
Ah, a kindred spirit!
I like this one Dave!
Nice, Dave. Sometimes I leave the words; sometimes they leave me. Unfortunately, the latter is usually the case.
Very nice Dave.
Brilliant poem! It reminds me of the quote 'a poem is never finished it is merely abandoned'. Good stuff!
Thanks, much appreciated.
I think we all know that moment. Frustrating!
I think that's very true. That is, it's sure true for me!
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