well, ok. i am a bit rusty. here's some lines i made note of a few years ago before i quit writing poetry...and i see my line breaks and stanza breaks are not breaking right. advice?


Lately, He Means Appointment When He Says Employment

He wears shoes intensely tied

& shows me

lost-until-now photos

of his father from the 1930's.

He won't admit when he's upset,

just unties his shoe, moving aside

the papers on my desk, to pull

his pant leg up & set his foot

upon the cleared corner.

Now he has laces to yank on.

How does it feel,

seeing photos of your father

for the first time? I ask.

He says it makes him remember

his matchbook collection that blew away

when the door to his family’s storage trailer

was left unlocked the winter of '41.

Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 03/25/2013 01:04PM by redmitten.

very nice
in its particulars
as they make a scene

I got to read it a few more times afore I comment. But, you got to quit not writtin' poetry. Yer too good at it.

Wait. You quite writing poetry??? I think that's illegal when you have so much talent. At least, it should be. This is too good to be considered just "some lines" that you wrote.

Joe

This is a good remembrance Sherry. I'll look at the line breaks later.

Les

I always put line breaks where they Ferrell right, so I'm no help there, but I wanted to say I like this. I like that feeling you get when you read the lines starting with when he cleared a corner for him to tie his shoe, and especially when he answered the question.

Thank you for sharing

Feel, not Ferrell... Auto correct. Sigh.

Hey Mitts, when we made our move to New Aiyansh from Burns Lake in ‘76 we took the back road at night from Hazelton. We had a truck behind us that kept pulling up and flashing his highbeams and then falling way back again. My dad, finally frustrated pulled over to let him pass. Turns out our U-Haul had come unlatched and the fella had been stopping to pick up our stuff before trying to get us to pull over. Lol

double post

Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 04/18/2013 05:02PM by Gwydion2.

Excellent write. I really like the subtle descriptions - so much said

I had a dynamite cap collection when I was a kid. Dad discovered it in his shop and it blew away. I decided that you need to keep writtin' poetry until you get perfect at it. Post them all. Hope south Montana burns this summer, loved havin' supper with you couple of times last year. Still no comment on this one. I stumble on the line breaks. At the risk of starting an ire... I have done some research.. seems to me that "open verse" came on the scene enmass about the same time as lysergic acid diethylamide.


love ya

yes, Murk, Robert Duncan and Charles Olson both wrote in that era and both did drop acid more than once. Technically, their work is extremely well-disciplined and complex, but readers of Longfellow and Robert Service have a hard time trying to warm up to The Maximus Poems [Olson] or Groundwork and The Opening of the Field [Duncan]. Such is the diversity of the art. The last person I lent my copy of Maximus hated it.

The run ons between lines and the lines as units of breath and thought, I still think, in reds poem above, work very well for me. I am glad to see her experimenting in this way.

amo et avanti,

Peter

Open verse has been around a long time Terry:

Consider this poem:

Cosmos

WHO includes diversity, and is Nature,
Who is the amplitude of the earth, and the coarseness and sexuality
of the earth, and the great charity of the earth, and the
equilibrium also,
Who has not look'd forth from the windows, the eyes, for nothing, or
whose brain held audience with messengers for nothing;
Who contains believers and disbelievers--Who is the most majestic
lover;
Who holds duly his or her triune proportion of realism, spiritualism,
and of the aesthetic, or intellectual,
Who, having consider'd the Body, finds all its organs and parts good;
Who, out of the theory of the earth, and of his or her body,
understands by subtle analogies all other theories,
The theory of a city, a poem, and of the large politics of These
States;
Who believes not only in our globe, with its sun and moon, but in
other globes, with their suns and moons;
Who, constructing the house of himself or herself, not for a day, but
for all time, sees races, eras, dates, generations,
The past, the future, dwelling there, like space, inseparable
together.

This poem was written about 1855 by Walt Whitman.


Les