Written so well I was engrossed. I would have liked to see it extended farther, but it was realistic enough that I could imagine knowing the characters.
An alien who likes Labatt’s? Why not? Or who wants a Furby? I’m still laughing. I love the way you take thus mind boggling experience, and then make it seem so...easy. But what’s Tom going to tell Peter?
So many vivid images...I am struck by how you paint this picture so well.
Disloyalty walked in on us is a marvelous first line. A splinter of hope playing on the maligned hubris of lovemaking brings me right into the darkened room, sunlight peeping through shades. Dissonance sweeping in to break off bits of infidelity in a cold virtuous winter - what a splendid notion, one that packs whole novels into a few words.
Beautiful.
You have written two gems, tim. The first of these challenges me to consider what it is I believe in. The second speaks of light, and of the love that lives there. The last stanza of where you are is simple and beautiful.
I can identify with Eric on many different levels. You have written a multidimensional character with whom I can sympathize and empathize. Did he give up, or simply forget how to live? Either way, Eric seems to have made an interesting new start.
This story is so very sad. The grief and hurt permeates each stanza. We were in fields of emerald green... this single line says so much, paints such a wide and deep picture. The following stanzas yield more scenes made vivid by your wordstrokes - hollow eyes staring, children grieving. You have done a find job of making the reader both see and feel pain and rage.
The meter, with its strong first beat, makes each line seem firm and declarative - weighty, as you say. It was hard being as direct as the meter seemed to want. Yet I agree, too, that the final results left me feeling drained and desolate. I am glad you found the form agreeable, but I regret any discomfort I caused.
I prefer to think that odds, evens and various multiples are differently beautiful, and all attractive in their ways. Evens seem almost crystalline, while odds appear organic and visceral in my mind.
Number and mathematical pattern have their beauty; so do people. Why oughtn’t they intertwine once in a while?
Thank you for responding to these so eloquently.
These definitely have an insistence about them. I think the meter and the four line rhymes have a lot to do with that. I am very glad you liked these, and am grateful you chose to read them.
Yes, these encapsulated the January Drearies all too well. The form is a shift from the sonnet in that these seem more static, more of a tableau than a story. But that is probably more a function of my own concept, and not the form itself. Thank you for reading these!
@Headstall...Thank you very much, Gary. Making those four rhymes work really does satisfy, you’re right. I think At the End was my own favorite of the three. The form kind of grew on me. You were very kind to comment.
Meditation
Face
painted with dishonest smirk,
hiding secret thoughts which lurk
deep within the spirit's murk;
naught forgives this natal quirk.
Face
facts discomfortably bleak,
words too sorrowful to speak,
phrases painful, harsh, unique,
fit for fools and frauds so weak.
Face
consequences strait and stern;
judgements doom the soul to burn,
choices made to love or spurn,
lessons one could never learn.
Face
forward toward the winter win
I agree with AC also. Belief is not easy. Your words strike a chord with me. Yet like you, I still flail, and keep darkness at bay. You speak for many of my days. Yet there is hope, and there is connection. That kindles light against the darkness, perhaps.
Galen is speaking, and functioning, in a way. He made a trip, even if he latched onto Joshua pretty fiercely. There is reason for hope, even if it is slow in coming. Galen has every reason to retreat deep into himself, and not to trust anyone. Yet he trusts Joshua, that's clear. Perhaps at some point, he may allow himself to emerge, to heal, and to love. When that happens, Joshua will be there. This is beautifully told.