Parker Owens
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Everything posted by Parker Owens
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Jackson is facing a supremely difficult moment; he has to recognize and cross that line from adolescence into responsibility. In doing so, he will commit himself to parts of his future and to who he wants to be and who he wants to love. What makes this story and this chapter compelling is that so many of us face this crossing, yet never stop to think about it as Jackson must.
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Welcome, @SnowBear. I know what you mean about transcribing handwritten works onto one’s phone. Dictation can be fraught, but I’ve managed it for some things. I’m glad you’re a member!
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You’re very kind to say these shine. It’s a form very new to me. Thank you for your encouragement.
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I love the way you put it: you taste the poems. Sometimes I think one must read poetry slowly, just one poem at a time. A whole book of poetry might take quite a while to finish, but it’s worth reading it that way. Thanks very much for taking a moment to sample these.
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I’m so very glad these resonated with you. If the form made sense, then I’m even happier. Thanks very much for your encouragement.
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Yes. I understand, and thank you very much!
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You’re very kind. So you think the form works?
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Summer The morning star has given way to colors at the break of day, in all their fabled panoply before the sun starts on its daily run the birdsong to accompany. Night’s storms and thunder are undone as fresh winds from the north are spun the moment dawn thought best to play where sky meets tree when one looks easterly, the riven clouds to chase away. The shadows from our blankets flee a
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The crowd chants for crucifixion, not caring Liam’s every school day was a Calvary. The papers and news cycle have spread the word that he killed Rhys. Liam cannot begin to tell his own story. I fear the Crown Court will do him no favors.
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Jeremiah is lucky to be alive. I felt every shudder and crash of that storm. Hope he and JoJo enjoy exploring that trunk.
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Starslide… what a marvelous choice of name. You brought a smile to my face in your tale of family dynamics. Uncle Jack is indeed uber cool.
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There’s nothing quite like the building anticipation of a summer thunderstorm moving in. In some cases, there’s real reason for fear, in others, there’s the promise of weather drama, followed by the sun. It’s always better to share such experiences with someone special, I agree. Thank you for reading, and for your comments.
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Long legged teens in cutoffs faded pale, still growing into their height… egrets came to mind immediately. I’m glad summer scenes such as I remember - and still experience today - can come to you all the way across the sea. Thank you for reading and commenting on this.
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Those days from my youth echo in memory, all the more loudly in these soft-edged summer days. I can still see the colors of water beaded on skin and hear excited voices at the appearance of a water snake. Thanks very much for reading and for listening with me.
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As a matter of theology, I believe there are special places deep in hell reserved for men like Pastor Simpson. Matt may be attracted to the money, but what might he do with his newfound wealth?
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Thank you for making a summer visit with me in this poem. These are days to treasure and store up for the cold winter ahead.
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I'm glad these words evoked good memories for you. Even now, I cannot pass a creek without at least a tiny urge to stop, take off my shoes, and go wading. I hope you can enjoy some of these days that are left to us this summer. Many thanks.
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Thank you for letting me walk with you this summer, listening for voices and sounds on the wind. Today, there is rain drumming on the roof, and they tell me thunder may rumble later on. But in this, we can still walk in the sun and enjoy these summer days. Thanks a million.
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Mourning Dove Days These are mourning-dove days, when the air is a plush green velvet blanket moving in languid caresses like a lover’s breath on your neck and colored in maple and aspen whispers, rumors, retold by the waving buttercups and blue-eyed grasses to a world slowed down enough to listen to their songs over the voices of tanned, teenaged boys wading barefoot, like restless egrets stalking in clear, cool, cr
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That’s a wonderful story, and a beautiful sendoff.
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Poor Liam re-lives the horror over and over, in addition to the piled-up powerlessness of getting bullied by Rhys. What prospect of learning any kind of healthy control does Liam possess? I wonder if either psychiatric professional could answer that one. At least Loughton seemed sympathetic.
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I understand self-loathing and self hatred far too well. This poem made me feel as if a mirror had been turned on me in the clear light of day. It’s very well done.
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How wonderful you could find yourself in these cool greening woods with these lines. Thanks very much for coming along. It has been many years since I’ve walked the southern strand, but you’ve given me an idea…
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Jon and Parwaz are more together than their sum. You’ve written that beautifully in a dystopia we all get to imagine. Thanks for this, it’s wonderful.
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@AC Benus This is such a beautiful work, full of yearning and lyricism. Thank you for sharing it today.
