Parker Owens
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Everything posted by Parker Owens
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Prompt 2 - The Motherland Calls
Parker Owens commented on Cole Matthews's story chapter in Prompt 2 - The Motherland Calls
Very interesting... someone or something blinded a statue? A case of mistaken identity, or just demonstrating something to a party who needs to know? In either case, I don’t want to annoy that someone... -
Those Moments of Silence
Parker Owens commented on Drew Payne's story chapter in Those Moments of Silence
How terribly sad and yet too familiar for many. But maybe this story is replayed less often now than it once was. I sure hope so, anyway. -
This story was a lovely song in itself, sung in a major key with harmony upon harmony. Thank you for this.
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Ouch! Not a nice way to say ‘thanks for the ride!’
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So sad, that Simon must hide. But not everyone has the brass to be out and proud and defiant at bay at that age. The question is: why should it be necessary? I cannot think Simon is a coward. He’s a survivor.
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Vireos and the Carolina Wren
Parker Owens commented on Parker Owens's story chapter in Vireos and the Carolina Wren
I’m very glad these open a window on the North American birds for you. The Carolina Wren is actually singing in the woods not far away right now. Thanks so much for reading and considering these. -
April 15 through April 21
Parker Owens commented on Parker Owens's story chapter in April 15 through April 21
April 16 actually has an old Appalachian hymn as its inspiration. I’m glad you picked up on that. Those tomatoes are my height now, reaching for the sun. Thanks so much for reading these and for your thoughts. -
Already the cicadas are being replaced by katydids, proclaiming the end of summer. But maybe these lines will make the glow last a little longer. You’re very kind to read these, and to comment.
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It’s a wonderful picture you paint in words. I can feel the thrill of standing there with you.
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I’m glad these lines made you smile. Perhaps they’ll help us savor the season a bit longer.
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I love this! I have nearly all of the main ingredients growing in my garden...
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Thank you for reading these. You are right in saying that the sensual pleasures of summer are best enjoyed when they are shared. Perhaps these lines will help the warmth linger into the autumn.
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The pup might have his work cut out for him here. Thank you for reading these and for responding to them. My hope is that you and I can read them in January and feel the warmth and the sunshine.
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And I neglected to mention the drone of the fans - no AC here, alas and alas.
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Thank you, tim. All sorts of strains make up the music of these days. I'm sweeping cicadas off my front steps, too - though soon they will be supplanted by katydids announcing the end of summer. You're very kind to comment on these.
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Summer tastes like warm, blue afternoons and ghost stories told by campfirelight; it’s flavored by peach colored clouds before sunrise, by tangy rainbow clad thunderstorms or meteors sprinkled in the stars. July’s song is the crunch of fresh beans, and the sultry alto tanager blending with a chorus of mournful cicadas sounding over the food processor as it transforms basil to sunlight.
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and i can’t tell if i want him or want to be him This cuts to the heart of the yearning that flows through this poem, and which surrounds me still.
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This makes me so very sad. It’s enormously powerful. You’re quite real to me.
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You’ve spent a great chapter assuring us of the last bit: it’s going to be all right. You did it in so many ways, from new morning sex to changes in the way the uncles approach the pair, to hints at possible accommodation, if not reconciliation. It was a chapter beautifully bathed in golden light. Well done.
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I liked this very much, and dinna fret. I ken wha you meant.
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Excellent installment, Carlos. Thank you, and thanks to all the authors who answered. @Krista‘s response about sequels resonated with me. I’m also very grateful to @AC Benus for his thoughts on sonnets, and on poetic form, generally.
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Who is anyone to judge? I wish and hope for you happiness and joy, love and unity.
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I’m sorry you hurt, and that someone you trusted did that to you. Your poem makes me grieve. I can only offer you my hugs and hopes.
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The Simon you draw here could easily slide down a slick and steep slope of ever poorer choices and decisions. Max truly fucked Simon over, regardless of what may have transpired in his car. What a sad, grey reflection you paint here.
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Congratulations! This is great news. I’m very happy for you!
