Headstall
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Thanks, Doc. I do relive that summer in my way, a time when we didn't have to make choices, just live and have fun. There is a sweetness to those memories I refuse to let be foiled by what came later. In those days, two young boys were pirates and knights and kings, comrades in arms, holding onto who we were in those moments while letting imaginations soar. Friendships like those are better than buried treasure. I appreciate you reading and reviewing, my friend. Cheers!
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Thank you so much, Parker. So many blueberries.
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Honestly, that's my favorite of these as well, Chris. There is a truly sad aspect to that poem. I learned many years later on a visit to my home province, in an offhand comment at a get-together, that my summer friend had committed suicide. He was the same age as me, only twenty-two at the time. I went outside and threw up. No one there really knew how close we had been as children. I wish I had a photo of him. Anyway, it took a lot to write the poem, but I'm glad I did. He might be gone, but those times are always with me, and he deserves to be remembered. Thanks for indulging me and reading and reviewing my offerings, my friend.
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Thanks, Albert. This is surprising to be truthful, but I truly appreciate your support for these. I will say, these poems are honest, coming from within , from my memories, my outlook, and the depth and baggage of my experiences. You know how I feel about poetry and the cleansing aspect of it. Therapy is well and good, but sometimes putting words down is another form of self help. I am protective of my poetry, a lot of it never seeing the light of day, but I'm beginning to understand the folly of that. Cheers, my friend.
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Thank you so much! I'd like to think our lives are filled with magical times, whether they be moments or days or years. I'm always trying to find my balance, and I treasure what I've lost. Appreciate you reading and commenting, friend. Cheers.
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It left me shook, even raw, but that's a good thing. Be careful, and read the author's warning. It is powerful.
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I strive to find the validity in all poetry, and I found it here. Yes, it is disturbing, shocking even, but it's the point, right? I've never wanted to do what this protagonist did, but I have a brink I was pushed to and over(I warned him more than once), and I will admit the swing and impact felt good in that moment, but not later. We give people the power to hurt us, so we have to accept a love's betrayal and move on. This person couldn't, and that left me unsettled, like good poetry often does. Cheers.
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These are good poems with depth and thoughtfulness. Words are powerful things when put together with feeling. Cheers
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Is this Friday? Oh, hell, what does it matter. Enjoy your day, folks.
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Seeing and hearing about him for those years always made me happy. I truly believe our four-legged friends take a piece of us when they leave.
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If you may indulge me a moment, I wrote some new poetry for the anthology...
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Thistle and Mallory.
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False advertising.
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Thought-provoking, timely stuff. Read it and you will see what I mean. Cheers!
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I assume this being 'in process' is why I can't leave a review? @Valkyrie
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Wow, Doc! This is powerful stuff. While it is poetry, and wonderful, it kind of transcends it... having a hard-hitting essay feel that demands you pay attention. Including Pete Seegar lyrics was brilliant IMO. This one will stick with me... the compare and contrast had me both reeling and inwardly cheering, for truth will always be truth, and when such a light is shone in this day and age, it is thrilling. Thanks for this, my friend. Cheers!
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Cowboys are almost mythical, but I assure you they weren't. The author captures the sprit of these heroes who are woven into the fabric of the Old West. Cheers!
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Cowboys, many of them, led a solitary life, and a lonely one. You've captured that feeling here, Albert, in all three of these. Playing it safe was often not really an option when you were made of cowboy stuff. Death was always right around the corner, as your second poem shows. Campfire Ballad was especially sad for me, I think because of the fact he chose not to fight for love. I understand that, but I wished he had... for my sake more than his. Stirring poetry, my friend. Thank you. Cheers!
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Within I often visit the meadow within The softest, sweetest place I ever laid my head Our secret place where blue-stained lips and bellies full of berries found relief from the sun I remember tall grasses swaying and dragonflies hovering and darting as we lay close enough to touch, seeking faces in the clouds Sometimes laying in silence, or occasionally murmuring silly thoughts, and barking la
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Some choices are within our control, while some are not. Life is about acceptance and balance... and living with consequences as we look forward and back.
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Welcome @vicjim!
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I consider that a compliment.
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Oh... kinky...
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No complaints here. Worked on my fish tank this morning. I see you have your feet up on your new lounger.
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hello, peeps. Rainy and warm here.
