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Click hereI can tell she's annoyed
I've let the raspberries go wild
in your grove
your hair is as tangled as mine
graves should be more careful
more deliberate, mown mounds
that soften the outlines
the sharp edges of the dead
Not piles of stones
and wild vines
where rude red berries
ruin the subtle shades
At least, she says
there's no rain today
the forecast said
definitely tomorrow
she takes a photo
of you and I
against the wild green
with no flash
you will be
the colored bubble
some error in development
that ruins the picture
I am so proud of you
you are as much
of a disappointment to her
as I am.
<br>Not only is this a bang-up poem, but you have attracted a delightful set of comments that makes for an all-round, right bang-up experience for any traveller thirsting for meaning who wanders this way to gaze in wonder. My cup spills with abundance.
anything substantial. "what they said." Simply superb, professional yet humble and wise. Your best so far. :)
The entire poem is magnificent.<br><br>
This stanza "you will be/the colored bubble/some error in development/that ruins the picture" really says a lot to me. I love that you added these details.
This poem embodies all the best things about postcards. The fact that you're encapsulating something so gigantic into this compact gesture of pain and elation. The fact that there are never perfect words to describe all the feelings you want to get down before you run out of room. So you get out as much as you can and send it off, knowing it's not exactly what you wrote (or couldn't write) that makes the postcard GOOD.
I find one of your great gifts, bj, is the ability to immaculately sculpt a scene, and leave just enough blur around the edges so that those of us who count it a joy to observe aren't just being outright pornographic about it. And by that I mean there are corners for us to slip into; we're not obligated to wide open awkward gawking. It's a real world you create, one where there are overlapping circles of wetness on the table from a sweating glass. You're a prosaic set designer. Lucky for us, you also do a bang-up job of characterization and scripting. Thank you for sharing.
It has a quiet reverence and seems really pure to me. A lovely tribute. I think you've wavered on punctuation though. Maybe it's just me, but I would either use it consistently or not use it at all. I love the comparison/contrast of your own hair and the overgown raspberry patch. It works perfectly: gives a strong image and helps the reader understand your point about generational similarities and differences. Your poem has been recommended in today's new poems reviews on Literotica's Poetry Feedback and Discussion forum.