Hi Rhyfkah,
Just catching up on stuff. I like this poem very much. It bears reading
several times which is always a good sign. In critical mode I get the
feeling that the form has been imposed on the poem a little rather than the
poem slipping into the form, if that makes sense, particularly from General
Sherman onwards and assume you have your reasons for how things are set.
bw
James
>From: Ryfkah * <[log in to unmask]>
>Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
>To: [log in to unmask]
>Subject: New poem: Other Living Things
>Date: Sat, 6 Jul 2002 13:48:46 EDT
>
>Other Living Things
>
>As sprinklers run and run
>a flood streams like smashed glass
>
>Time captured in pictures
>I kneel by mound of ground
>mourn nostalgia
>The photo of our new daughter
>in his arms the light sloping
>in late fall slips from the pile
>
>Rain drums in another land
>Our saffron lawn still thirsts
>
>The flag that cloaked
>his coffin rests in the box
>Its triangle precise I will
>endow it to our child who
>is almost old enough to care
>"War," proclaimed General Sherman,
>
>"is not the glory that boys make of it."
>The overcast day deceives
>
>Operation Desert Storm
>furied He scribbled love
>letters daily quaint not subtle
>exactly what a wife wanted
>He performed a holy deed
>saved another I lament him
>
>Like sprinklers tears surge
>They nourish memory
>
>other living things
>
>Ryfkah 7/5/02
bw
James
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