ooooo, Mister Tree--this is fabulous and once again, I am in love with your artwork. (Don't tell the other artwork of yours that I'm in love with, I don't want them to be jealous) ;)
Superb! The title evoked in my mind as I read it a slight and misleading expectation since the word alone, strangely perhaps could be one interpretation thereof, has warm connotations (wholesomeness, togetherness, strength, independence, completeness). Having assumption based on nothing more than personal notion quashed can only be healthy, :-), in other words, surprising and nicely done regardless of whether there was intention or invite. The poem rises to a crescendo quickly and flitters back down the scale with the same speed that it rose, small but perfectly formed and enormously impressive. Concrete definition eludes, but you have a way of handling the word tears within your writing, repetitively, that is particularly affecting, connected once again to a simplicity within your manner, no grand descriptions needed for this basic act and its associations. The oneness as it arrives complete with its true references from within creates, I imagine in all who read, a wonderfully vivid, symmetrical image of a tear brimming, wavering upon the rim. Intensely poignant is the awareness that the merest shift in balance will devastate, knowing concurrently just how fragile the perch is and the pains taken to hold on. This emotionally fraught juncture, the verge that we have all experienced intimately, you have succeeded in illustrating so succinctly it is as a summons to relive. one lyric/one look/one thought, one, just, piercing heart in the present (of reading your poem, your words, your verge), identifying and burrowing forth moments and memories reached there from. And, the last part of this poem, dazzling. In beauty and brilliance and above all sentiment. Writing at its best for all the reasons that one can love it.
Walking on the tightrope of memory, ever fearful of falling, ever fearful of that one unexpected gust that knocks us off balance and into the churning sea of regret. As always, Ms Storm, your comments, are the sugar I don't put in my coffee. :-)
I'm
6 comments:
ooooo, Mister Tree--this is fabulous and once again, I am in love with your artwork. (Don't tell the other artwork of yours that I'm in love with, I don't want them to be jealous) ;)
--snow
Thank you my dear Ninja. Kind words will always be remembered. :-)
this reminds me of the philosophy of Advait! :)
I've not heard of Advait. Will need to Google. :-)
Superb!
The title evoked in my mind as I read it a slight and misleading expectation since the word alone, strangely perhaps could be one interpretation thereof, has warm connotations (wholesomeness, togetherness, strength, independence, completeness). Having assumption based on nothing more than personal notion quashed can only be healthy, :-), in other words, surprising and nicely done regardless of whether there was intention or invite. The poem rises to a crescendo quickly and flitters back down the scale with the same speed that it rose, small but perfectly formed and enormously impressive. Concrete definition eludes, but you have a way of handling the word tears within your writing, repetitively, that is particularly affecting, connected once again to a simplicity within your manner, no grand descriptions needed for this basic act and its associations. The oneness as it arrives complete with its true references from within creates, I imagine in all who read, a wonderfully vivid, symmetrical image of a tear brimming, wavering upon the rim. Intensely poignant is the awareness that the merest shift in balance will devastate, knowing concurrently just how fragile the perch is and the pains taken to hold on. This emotionally fraught juncture, the verge that we have all experienced intimately, you have succeeded in illustrating so succinctly it is as a summons to relive. one lyric/one look/one thought, one, just, piercing heart in the present (of reading your poem, your words, your verge), identifying and burrowing forth moments and memories reached there from.
And, the last part of this poem, dazzling. In beauty and brilliance and above all sentiment. Writing at its best for all the reasons that one can love it.
Walking on the tightrope of memory, ever fearful of falling, ever fearful of that one unexpected gust that knocks us off balance and into the churning sea of regret. As always, Ms Storm, your comments, are the sugar I don't put in my coffee. :-)
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