Hi Sally,
Thanks for the comments. Yes, I guess it's one of those scribbles that
appear when there's nothing else to do.
I'm playing around with different titles at the moment... If I discover a
different title I think it might still keep it's wistful, quiet, tone if the
poem starts "And sometimes etc. etc" I guess the word "and" can be such a
powerful word to use in a poem - and starting a title!
Bob
>From: Sally James <[log in to unmask]>
>Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
>To: [log in to unmask]
>Subject: Re: And sometimes...
>Date: Thu, 13 Apr 2006 17:58:42 +0100
>
>Hello Bob, Yes it is quiet. I have been in hospital again but am ok now and
>though poems were popping up in my head and I wrote them there. I couldn't
>remember them later to write them down on paper. A bit like your poem
>where you want to capture the scene in art before it disapears forever. But
>you have captured the scene and emotion well in a poem.
>I do like the this poem and the title. A real conversational opening as if
>you are speaking directly to the reader. I also like the last line very
>much too. I am not so sure about "is a sunset"though. But do like "how it
>blends and bends". Not your usual type of poem but still a very intersting
>one. See what others say but I quite like this. Best wishes Sally J
>
>
>>From: Bob Cooper <[log in to unmask]>
>>Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
>>To: [log in to unmask]
>>Subject: And sometimes...
>>Date: Thu, 13 Apr 2006 14:29:11 +0000
>>
>>Hey, it's really, really quiet!
>>So...
>>here's a murmur of a scribbly piece for some comments (if anyone's out
>>there and wanting to offer any!)
>>
>>And Sometimes…
>>
>>Sometimes it happens like this:
>>I glance from a train window and the sky, so crisp from horizon to heaven,
>>is a sunset. And everything but the world we all travel through stops.
>>And should I weep for realising what I’ve missed – the beauty
>>science has no words for – or simply rejoice in the distance I see,
>>the atmosphere, so subtle with colour and time, how it blends and bends
>>and then it’s gone. And I need wax crayons, watercolours, in my memory
>>and fast hands: for, I feel I, too, am only a moment in travel,
>>shaking slightly as the train curves away.
>>
>>Bob Cooper
>>(who'n not sure if the title and the first phrase start things right
>>either! It got itself scribbled on a train when the start seemed OK enough
>>-- butwhile typing it out just now I'm starting to wonder...)
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