Thanks Colin. I have 3 children of my own in addition to all my pupils
and I think they inspire me to many of my poems. The poems about
children that you saw were written during the period of giving birth and
early years of the 3. Although I was in a constant state of weariness I
never stopped writing. |It helped me rise above the hardships of the
hour and see the bigger picture. Only one thing bothers me about these
poems and it's that in order to cheer myself up I wrote only about the
wonderful sides of having children. I couldn't admit even to myself the
down sides of the situation. Maybe I'll write these poems sometime.
Thanks again
Tammara

visit my web site: www.poetrylover.info


-----Original Message-----
From: The Pennine Poetry Works [mailto:[log in to unmask]] On
Behalf Of Colin dewar
Sent: Saturday, February 22, 2003 11:30 AM
To: [log in to unmask]
Subject: Re: Well of souls is full(rewrite)

Tammara,

I have visited your website and enjoyed the poems about children, a much
neglected subject if you ask me. A friend once said that it must be
because
the generative impulses are used in raising a family leaving none for
poetry. I said in return that people are far too busy to write poems
once
they have kids. There is always the possibility of a bystander writing
poems
about children............. or is that unlikely?


Colin


----- Original Message -----
From: "tammara" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Friday, February 21, 2003 6:16 AM
Subject: Re: Well of souls is full(rewrite)


> Wonderfully dark and evocative, like one of Poe's poems, or like a
> description of a scene from Lord of the Rings.
> Tammara
>
> visit my web site: www.poetrylover.info
>
>
> -----Original Message-----
> From: The Pennine Poetry Works [mailto:[log in to unmask]] On
> Behalf Of D.C Bursey
> Sent: Wednesday, February 19, 2003 11:16 PM
> To: [log in to unmask]
> Subject: Well of souls is full(rewrite)
>
> Fall's moon, wears a foreboding ring,
> casts silver light upon the rim,
> of a dark pool so perfectly round
> reflections are lost within.
>
> A pool with  liquid layers of man
> filled to the brim with war and hate,
> blackness seeps down to rust hell's gate.
>
> One lone juniper stands ready,
> under a mountain's watchful face,
> to catch the lost innocents
> before they sink and fade.
>
>