Parker Owens
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Everything posted by Parker Owens
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I love how you carry us along with on the sensual sensations of bubblegum. And I especially liked time can’t travel upstream, it’s a perfect line.
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There are many ways to make maple syrup, from highly industrial, to decidedly low-tech. My father’s sugarhouse was of the second kind, even all those years ago. I’m happy you could see and sense a little of my experience, and in your waffles, taste it too.
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Thank you for writing and for sharing your first chapter for the month. I related directly to Prompts 2 and 5; you made me feel the aftertaste of arguments and the gall of time slipping by. Prompt 3 made me see shades of gold, yellow and bronze; autumnal colors in spring.
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You share some experiences with me - especially pruning and clearing in the sugarbush. My dad used a chainsaw, but I hated the thing, so I used a bow saw instead. I didn’t write much about clearing during June and black-fly season though - I fear I’d recall too many swear words. Thanks for reading these!
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I’m so glad these brought back good memories to you. I hope this spring may be equally sweet.
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I enjoyed hearing about your memories too. The big farmer in town used horses for some of his sugaring; sadly, his son just put that farm up for sale last summer. Like me, he’s much older, stouter and grayer now, but in my memory, he remains golden haired.
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I am very glad you took a journey down my memory’s lane in this set. If you could picture in it bare trees and dirt roads under blue skies, laughter and attraction amidst the clouds of steam, then that in itself is sweet.
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How fortunate these two were to experience silence and retreat, rather than shouting and aggressive denial. I can only hope that the tears will last only for a brief season, to be replaced by joy.
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I can barely scrape the words together to agree wholeheartedly with @AC Benus here. This is great story wrapped into a magnificent poem.
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Drill a hole far enough, not too deep, and insert the clean tap, angled up, to catch the new nectar surging from its long rest diverting it to one’s own purpose, collecting the spring’s sweet promises. ~ ~ ~ On a good day, the sun rises over a cold landscape to bathe the hillside in clear, golden warmth, hitting the treetops first, then warming their trunks and feet; After breakfast, we ride out under clou
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There's a special time as winter changes into spring. Here is a time to remember.
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Chapter 93 Motorcycles in the Rain
Parker Owens commented on Mikiesboy's story chapter in Chapter 93 Motorcycles in the Rain
I’m drawn to this poem. It makes me feel both desperation and determination. The line: Words are the only sword I own and I don’t stand here alone echoes in my brain especially. Thank you for posting this. -
You make two excellent points about this beautiful piece. The first is that this is clearly intended as a same-sex love lament. The language you explain makes it clear, and the music cements it. What or who impelled Mahler to write this, I wonder? The second, unarticulated one, is that in order to keep this kind of understanding in the minds of just a very few, we teach the barest minimum of foreign languages and music. It’s no surprise that both of these subjects are on the chopping blocks at both college and high school all over the country.
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The only piece of Bortniansky’s I knew was that hymn tune (the Russian anthem as it was). This is a revelation.
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Last week there were aconites and crocuses blooming in green grass. This morning, I went skiing under the stars. Your poem writes of this kind of experience perfectly.
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Chapter 64 What I Remember
Parker Owens commented on Parker Owens's story chapter in Chapter 64 What I Remember
I imagined Eustace and Marge connecting as friends, at the least. They would make an interesting pair, though each was set in their respective ways. -
You ask questions in Number 2 that occur to me also - sometimes at my desk at work, sometimes in the middle of the night. I don’t have answers, yet I’m comforted that I’m not the only one asking. Number 1 makes me feel breathless, as if I were part of a movie scene. Thank you for such vivid questions.
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Spreading the Bad News
Parker Owens commented on Lee Wilson's story chapter in Spreading the Bad News
I’m enjoying this story. Fred and Mo established a connection, which the big man can’t deny. He selflessly pushes Fred away - but I wonder if Fred can stay away? -
These two poems made me smile as I read them. I felt a sense of greater peace and purpose after my second time through. Thank you for these gems that remind me to seek simplicity and to consider others.
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This chapter is a marvel for the careful way in which Ed and Liam begin to deepen their connection, and for the caring way the staff observe something that can’t be hidden. But it’s dangerous territory, because deep emotions have hurt both boys too. One wonders if they can handle what is developing.
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I liked this. You constructed a great poem out of computer parts.
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Your comment makes me smile. It’s immensely kind, for if I were even half of either Tomas or Fletcher, I’d be a better man. Thank you very, very much.
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It's amazing how much activity at the feeder has increased with the lengthening of daylight. I'm glad you can see some of it, too. Thanks very much.
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The birds seem to lend themselves to Haiku. Each has its own character at the feeder. Thanks for looking out the window with me.
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That's an interesting thought. Essentials of animal behavior through Haiku... thanks very much for watching the birds with me.
