Parker Owens
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Everything posted by Parker Owens
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Thank you so much for your very kind comments. That you could feel immersed in the story in Wednesday makes me smile. For the flow of humanity going by, it was just an ordinary day. As for Stripes, I enjoyed doing my sonnet’s take on Robert Frost, whose ghost will probably throttle me in my sleep. I am glad you liked the sudden turn. Many thanks for your reading, and for your encouragement.
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As a child, I was utterly unable to color inside the lines. And thank you for your comment on Wednesday. You captured my intent perfectly. I appreciate your thoughts so very much.
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And as always, my not-so-trusty iPad led to my typo. Sigh. I'm happy that you enjoyed these. My recent road trip suggested "Stripes." In fact, I am still seeing them...thank you so much for reading and responding!
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I am very pleased these made you smile. Despite the grayness that suffuses November, perhaps it is the unexpected colors that stand out. At least, before the world is shrouded in white. Thank you for reading these, and for your response!
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Stripes The road before me stretches o'er the land, unrolled across the hill and stubbled field; a scar which seems unlikely to be healed until the final trumpet is at hand. See broken stripes unnumbered like the sand, inexorably to tires must they yield, though round the bend, still others lie concealed, for every foot of journey have they spanned. They regulate the ways in which we pass, defining roads on which we may proceed. Yet just suppose that I, as bold
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This poem echoes melancholy from line to line. Yes, we do cherish our firsts, and they can be terrible and beautiful, and everything in between, as your words powerfully attest.
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You use quick, decisive strokes to paint this picture. I can hear and feel what you describe, and read each word flashing in your brain. Well done.
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First of all, I love the name. Second, this poem resonates with me in every line. By the end of the first four lines, you knew, and I read each following line to see more and more revealed. Yet I’m not so vain as to think this is written about me. I cannot help thinking I am glad not to be alone. Beautifully done, tim.
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This seemed to come off the pen rather smoothly. I am pleased you like it! Thank you.
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You just made me smile - I’m glad you feel this and remember it. Thank you for enjoying this.
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Thank you, Gary. Glad you enjoyed this Cider Press offering, after having mulled it over...
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You are exactly right, jp. There is a tingle and a spark - and the memory lingers for a long, long time. Many thanks!
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The merest thought is enough to make one shiver. I smiled to read your comment. Thank you.
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Thank you, dear Val. I am glad you thought this was good.
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Contact I never knew a feathered touch beneath your hand could mean so much; I treasure now that sweet caress, and to its memory now I clutch. Contented smiles I can't suppress, conveying what my thoughts express, for by your fingers all alone I'm helpless to my love confess. My senses all are overthrown by heated whispers, lightly blown, just where my neck and shoulder meet to catalyze my deepest groan. And now I feel so incomplete without y
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Variances of Light and Dark
Parker Owens commented on MacGreg's story chapter in Variances of Light and Dark
You set up an lovely ethereal quality, entirely consonant with the mist and fog. ‘Brittle Feet’ is a lovely phrase. -
Thank you, Def. Now we both have fallen leaves sticking to our damp boots. Glad you could see some of what I saw, too.
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I came late to the ball, but still I see all, your poetical eye is lovely.
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It's nice to converse upon the sofa before the fire. And if the talk gets a bit warm, that's not always a bad thing, is it? Thank you very much for reading this, and for responding to it, without, erm, flaming it.
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Thank you for your poetic and generous response.
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Numbers sing in voices consonant with my soul; their clear-pitched trebles resonate purely off stones laid deep in my mind's foundations, creating harmonies before my world was born. Thank you for reading these, and for your thoughtful and generous response.
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Thank you, tim. I am glad you felt some of the experience, too.
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October Morning The slim rising moon, fit consort for Orion, cannot flee sunrise. * Early dawn sunlight shines through golden foliage, tinting the morning. * Deer feed in the mist, stealing quick bites, tails flicking, alert to the wind. * Luxuriant vines turn from lime to bright lemon, then drop their garments. * Brilliant deep blue skies, crisp air carrying woodsmoke, mark the season's change. November Harvest
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Time to Tell the Truth
Parker Owens commented on ObicanDecko's story chapter in Time to Tell the Truth
So Cody has laid himself open at Trick’s feet. And I doubt Trick would never kick someone like that, not even if it were justified. Yet each has reason to doubt the other, even as they yearn. How will they bridge that gap? -
Thanks for your comments. I suppose weeping and lamentation must give way to action, and then those of us who weep now must march later, if only to support those who have died so needlessly.
