@AC Benus...Exactly. I suppose answers like that would tax their databases, but think of the AI gold mine that could be. Musical preferences tell huge amounts about personality....
@Daddydavek....The Academic Festival Overture is one of my all time favorites.
And here is a bonus poem from the world of online banking...
My bank
required questions
for access to accounts:
"Who's your favorite composer?"
was posed.
How could
they expect me to answer that?
I could name a dozen
before I took
one breath.
Eulogy
You always were both person and a place
where everything felt absolutely right;
as long as we were sitting face to face,
the world beheld within your smile's embrace,
we scintillated in that golden light
surrounding those you'd chosen to invite.
And everyone was to your heart invite,
no person in your home was out of place
where conversation affable and light
made welcome all who sat at left or right,
as long as they good humor would embrace,
for e
I continue to find your work interesting, engaging, and provoking. You explore the question - more than merely rhetorical - why not be exactly who you think you are? In so doing, you give us all both courage and food for thought.
Thank you so much. This pair of men simply got under my skin; and the mixup was just too good to dream about. As a teacher, I shudder to think about what the other speaker must have been like. I appreciate your kind remarks, coming from such a gifted writer as yourself.
tim, thank you for taking me on your journey. The Heron and the Redwing, two of my favorite creatures, were captured perfectly by your poetic camera. More important, your reflections illuminate your mind and experience. Beautiful.
This is fantastic writing. A chapter packed with information and emotion. If it had pages, I would not be able to stop turning them. Love that Louis is from The Rock. Great addition.
Morning is a dance to love, as you noted. Perhaps more exuberant than is often my style, but I am glad you like it. Evening remembers and wishes. Your memories are like mine, and it was meant to wrap them together.
Many thanks for reading and commenting.
This is a nifty short piece. It puts me in mind of instructive verses so beloved of my grandparents' generation. I can hear my grandmother in your words...
You liked the Renga, then? I found the rhyme and connected themes to be irresistible. I hope they worked out. Your words make me blush; Morning was just pure fun to write. Evening sounded the more musical to my ear; I actually had an old folk tune going in my head as I wrote it. Thank you so much for your very kind and generous remarks. My head is completely turned!
Thank you for this, Dugh. Morning was meant to skip, to dance. Glad you spoke it aloud. I had to do that several times to get it to scan right. Evening could be song or poem, I hope. And while it is a snuggle, it is also a farewell, as you noted. You are so kind to comment.
Perhaps Morning needs a lute? How interesting that you make the Warlock connection. Evening certainly seemed the more medical of the two poems here. Being cradled and cuddled by one you love is undoubtedly one of the greatest gifts life can bestow. Thank you for your really interesting thoughts.
I am glad you thought these beautiful. Renga all by oneself is tougher than I thought. Your story about the bird is apt. There is a wood thrush singing in the forest behind the house - unusual, because I haven't heard one all summer. But if these brought tears, at least I hope they were good ones. Thanks for reading!
Morning mixes meters, as composers often did in the sixteenth century. I hoped that experiment worked out. Your image in Evening is exactly what I had in mind; a perfect kind of snuggle. Thank you for reading these!
Morning
Morning breaks upon the hill,
wake and sing,
cry aloud, let none be still,
for every bird in bright array
will greet with joy the dawning day.
Sing, make haste to add your voice,
dance for love,
join sweet Eros and rejoice,
abandon melancholy guise,
clasp hands beneath the sunny skies.
Dance within the glade so green,
laugh in light,
here let us in love convene,
upon a secret snowy bower,
for now t