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  1. Yesterday
  2. dcmarti1

    Backyard Quince - A Paean to Petworth

    I feel bad about being a Colonial and sending in a poem to the Mother Country, but, what the hell. Thanks for the tip. I will send it in. And, also, thanks for reading.
  3. badger11

    Sapper

    Thanks Marti. Like how you've keyed into this write. Much appreciated. Phil
  4. badger11

    Backyard Quince - A Paean to Petworth

    Like how you use the 'preservatives' in the context Marti. Triston Moss is guest editing on the publication Snakeskin and 'environs' is the theme: http://www.snakeskinpoetry.co.uk/
  5. tonyv

    Backyard Quince - A Paean to Petworth

    There can be appreciable differences even from one neighborhood to another in heavily populated areas. That also sums up my current environs. Personally, I find it exciting. I live in Providence County, Rhode Island, only about forty miles from where I grew up in Plymouth County, Massachusetts. But even in such a short distance, with the many towns and at least one other county inbetween, there are noticeable differences in demographics, culture, and (in my opinion) attitude. There is some interesting stuff in the Wikipedia link re domicile of origin, domicile of choice, etc. Tony
  6. dcmarti1

    Backyard Quince - A Paean to Petworth

    This was my 2nd and last neighborhood after "downtown" Dupont. "Uptown" Petworth was far more residential and was undergoing PAINFUL gentrification. Modest townhomes and modest apartments-turned-condo reaching prices long-term families could not afford. (I guess I was part of that problem.) Middle-class and business owning Black families had been there, and I was told a sizeable Jewish presence on Kennedy Street. A dear neighbor still corresponds with me, and she sent me a photo of a pie she had made from her "backyard quince". Thanks, Tony.
  7. tonyv

    Backyard Quince - A Paean to Petworth

    Poems of place are among my favorites, and I love how you capture this locale. These environs are home to the poet-speaker, away though he may be, apart, as if from a lover, from his domicile to where he intends to some day return. A person might have more than one residence, but he has only one domicile. Furthermore, "A person can remain domiciled in a jurisdiction even after he has left it, if he has maintained sufficient links with that jurisdiction or has not displayed an intention to leave permanently."1 But we're not talking law here, we're talking matters of the heart. Though my home is elsewhere, in an altogether different state, I still feel a connection to the place where I grew up. Of particular interest: "peopled by the old and by the new." I feel that way whenever I visit my parents at my childhood home. I haven't lived there for decades, but it still feels, in some ways, like home. Very nice work with this poem. I love it. Tony 1. Domicile
  8. Last week
  9. dcmarti1

    Just a Rant

    How could I have missed this impassioned piece? :)
  10. dcmarti1

    Sapper

    "sweated his ghosts" Gentle, yet brilliant AND disturbing. Well, maybe unsettling. Definitely moving.
  11. badger11

    Sapper

    Thanks Tony for returning and prompt. I've tweaked a word and changed the title. cheers Phil
  12. A narrow, urban, and uptown alley, peopled by the old and by the new, find comparison to be troubling, as bitter as backyard quince. Those self-same old and self-same new, neither hating, loving, nor knowing the other, find indifference an effortless aegis, as unyielding as backyard quince. Mason jars of lemon curd and red plum jam, opened and stabbed from exotic tongues and skins, could find common hearth on calescent scones, as redolent as backyard quince.
  13. tonyv

    Sapper

    Perhaps a change in title would make that more clear. Maybe something like "Coming Home" or "Back Home" -- well, something to differentiate between the war and home. Tony
  14. tonyv

    Gallows

    If I write fourteen lines, that for me is a long poem!
  15. dcmarti1

    Gallows

    Yeah, short. I have decided I need to be William Carlos Williams Redux and not Phillip Sidney Part 2. Thanks.
  16. dcmarti1

    Gallows

    Thanks, Dave. Tree, gallows.....I don't know how that popped into my head.
  17. Tinker

    Stretching It Out

    Thanks, Badge. This form was fun to play with. ~~Tink
  18. Tinker

    Stretching It Out

    Ha, Tony, Yard work may be hard on the body but I think it is good for it and it is especially good for the soul. ~~Tink
  19. badger11

    Sapper

    Hi Tony and Tink, I pictured a war veteran - the reference to the 'poppies' - with PTSD. I tried to write a poem about the positives of gardening, but this is the outcome! Pleased the sonics worked there. lad is commonly used in Wales๐Ÿ˜€ I did consider nurse/vicar, but I didn't want the simplicities associated with those labels. Thanks both best Phil
  20. badger11

    Stretching It Out

    hi Tink The reality of the 'fragile thread' and the life of 'My dance song, a playful tune' are balanced and reflected in the form. There is a strength in the form that articulates the voice. Life is still embraced. Especially liked the use of mellowed'. best badge
  21. tonyv

    Stretching It Out

    Judi, the poem and your reply to Marti confirm by belief that one should avoid all yard work. Tony ๐Ÿ˜‰
  22. tonyv

    Sapper

    When I began to read the poem, I presumed that the man is cantankerous and that the woman is merely his hopeful live and let live influence. After all, I, myself, get irritated when people do dumbass things like kick cans and make unnecessary, pointless, offensive noises. When I got to the last line, I considered the possibility that the man has a neurodegenerative disease or a touch of mental illness. In any case, this short poem is well-composed and shows a lot. Tony
  23. Tinker

    Sapper

    Hi Badge, This easy flowing piece felt good to read. I loved the sounds lad - along- lane . The word choice "lad" took me back in time. It isn't a word commonly heard here unless in a period movie. I momentarily wondered about his doubts or worries that he was sweating out in his labor but more, empathized with his choice to work them out in the soil. I just came in from planting a bit. For some reason the morning just feels best when I go into my garden and do something. Even if it is just to walk around with cup of coffee in hand and talk to my plants with my kitty following me like a puppy dog. Preparation to handle whatever may come my way in the day. Thanks for this lovely morning greeting. ~~Tink
  24. badger11

    Sapper

    revised An idle lad kicking a can along the lane that afternoon unnerved him. When in doubt, garden, she'd said. And so he did. Dug up a field, a pride of poppies. Spade work - he had the knack for it. The joy of labour sweated his ghosts until the mind hum bothered him not. original An idle lad kicking a can along the lane that afternoon unnerved him. When in doubt, garden, she'd said. And so he did. Dug up a field, a pride of poppies. Spade work - he had the knack for it. The joy of labour sweated his night until the mind hum bothered him not.
  25. Tinker

    Haiku Fridays

    #32 stinky, sour socks, scummy stenched, sweat soaked sweatshirt, shunned scents surface ~~jvg
  26. Tinker

    Haiku Fridays

    I'm on a role of silliness #31 flapdoodle Friday foraging for funny facts favorite focus ~~jvg
  27. Tinker

    Haiku Fridays

    #30 flummery Friday formulating flatulence for frivolous flare ~~jvg
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