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  1. Yesterday
  2. Tinker

    Daily Poem Challenge

    Write an Etheree Dawning Day begins in silence. I feel a nudge and open my eyes to see my Molly's face, her kitty nose to my nose. A sweet awakening with love and gentle persuasive intention. The dawning of another enterprise. ~~Judi Van Gorder Notes: ▼ A Morning Poem
  3. Tinker

    Daily Poem Challenge

    Prompt: Confinement Verse form: Sonnet Trapped Confined within the hemisphere dispensed A stroke while forming in her mother's womb. A damaged global center, commander's room to signal body parts to function hence. The intellect and empathy are held within its mass to compliment her life Her brain was halved as if cut by a knife. The living side stepped up and excelled. Born paralyzed, her right side a dead fish, unknowns, her speech, her thoughts and so much more. Yet her stubborn courage deigned to score, she fell and failed and tried again. Her wish to walk and talk and be like other kids made real, her body does as she bids. ~~Judi Van Gorder Bowlesian Sonnet
  4. eclipse

    she wolf

    I dreamt of being a she wolf sleeping with one eye open in a forest-in the distance i could see my human self in a watchtower carved out of my frozen tears.Laid in hospital attached to a drip cancer undresses feminist consciousness the moon howls and the sun hollas as I catheterize it to fill me with fire. The only thing now scene from the watchtower is a forest of burning trees.
  5. Last week
  6. Tinker

    Stretching It Out

    Thank you David. I am reminded almost daily of this poem as I continue to reclaim my yard after all too many years of neglect while I nursed my husband and myself through some medical hiccups. It strains the body but feels so good to work outside again. I just brought in the most beautiful bouquet of roses from my garden, plus fresh lettuce, cucumbers and the juiciest plums and nectarines. I can't wait to harvest the rest of my veggies and fruits. All in good time. I love watching things grow. ~~Tink
  7. David W. Parsley

    Community Gardening At St.Peter's

    Oh, this subversive lady who cultivates weeds as well as flower and pea! Sounds like she "shoplift"ed another flower on this day, probably someone with prior attachments like a spouse and family. As with most folks, she does not realize her stings are mostly earned, and richly. The revision is tight. My only suggestion is to revisit the second use of "stranger" so close to its initial use, seems particularly disturbing in a poem of such lean narration. Cheers, - Dave
  8. David W. Parsley

    How About Hiding Workshop

    Tony, I must have accessed the Workshop while I was still logged in but didn't realize it. Thanks for your kind words! It is good to be back in the company of PMO poet friends on a more sustained basis. This place is great because of your thoughtfulness and integrity in resisting advertisers and other unwelcome visitors, and because of the inimitable membership. - Dave
  9. tonyv

    How About Hiding Workshop

    Well, it certainly is a concern for anyone who happens to care, and that includes you. Most of us stay logged in all the time, so we don't notice how some of our forums are inaccessible to random, often unwelcome visitors. Always excited to see you, Tony
  10. David W. Parsley

    How About Hiding Workshop

    Uhm, gee, what a marvelous idea I had! (Blush) Thanks for thinking it through, in advance, Tony. I am posting something today!! - Dave
  11. David W. Parsley

    Kingston

    Thanks, that helps alleviate lingering concerns (despite your protests ;-). Buddy, I gotta say, you really pulled off a prize winning uppercut on a few of us here. I'm getting up off the floor now, but this poem will stick with me for a while. Well Done! - Dave
  12. tonyv

    Kingston

    Thank you Dave, very much, for your thoughtful observations and remarks. I agree with this, @eclipse! It was like the dopamine high one might get after getting a LIKE on Instagram! 😄 Kingston is just a small town about thirty minutes by car from the town where I grew up. I remember heading there on Friday or Saturday nights back in the mid/late '80s when I had just gotten my driver's license and a new big shopping mall had been built there. It had a great food court, and of course, a movie theater. I might have gone on some dates there during that era. 😎 Thus, it was just a thought back to some happy times growing up. 😎 As for Hürth, there's no connection. It happens to be a town in the vicinity of Cologne, Germany which I happened to look up online for some extraneous reason. I was in Google image and found one that appealed me for some reason. Thanks again ... I don't mind elaborating at all! Tony Picture I found in Google Image search for Hürth/Cologne, Germany. It's in my folder of images that have some meaning for me, that perhaps inspire me in various ways:
  13. David W. Parsley

    Sapper

    I just keep coming back to this poem, whether I am on the site or not. It haunts me. I can't help seeing the sapper with his poppies and his ghosts, feel down from the arms and hands through the spade probing that underspoken undertow with all its peril and hope for catharsis. I don't have one yet, but this will surely result in a responding poem(s) of my own. - Dave
  14. David W. Parsley

    Eulogy for a falcon

    Hi Barry, I responded to this poem in much the same way as Tony and Tinker. Until the final three lines. I wondered why the poem lost energy for me at that point, so I went away and came back to re-read. The main problem for me is the tell-vs.-show word, "grieving" and the always-sapping word "eventually." Then, too, the use of "a" seems faux-oblique to my way of hearing the narrative. And "complete" is too neat, lacking in subtly. Really, it may be just that third-to-last line that creates problems for this reader. The whole piece prospers in a shower of startling imagery and diction that somehow communicate a fantasy tale that the reader knows is somehow about real things that happen to or near us in the tangible world, the ultimate calling of surrealist art. The narrative and images connect to your other works without repeating those images and themes. A most refreshing effort and pleasing to this reader's ear and mind. I am also grateful for the touches of craftsmanship, bringing the work to your friends at PMO only after purging misspellings and grammar errors. And while I am taking time to be grateful, I want to thank you for the added bits of insight into your recent commentary on works by other poets here. It is appreciated more than you know! Thank You, - Dave
  15. David W. Parsley

    Kingston

    Tony, I don't know whom you are channeling here, or where the sternum-pricking details came from, but something issued from the wellspring that is very convincing. My response was a lot like badger's and tink's, pretty emotional. And I love what eclipse had to say about comparisons to Bukowski and the narrative pulse of the thing (Barry, give us more of this!). To think that all this drama came from a series of innocuous images and those devastating concluding five lines. Wow. So moved was I, that I decide to look into Kingston and Hurth. And came up empty. Would you mind elucidating? Inquiring minds want to know, if you are able to share. (I know: not autobiographical at all...) Thanks (I think!), - Dave
  16. David W. Parsley

    Feed the Hungry

    Hi Tinker, I resonate with all commentators on this string. The brevity, lack of extraneous adornment, and apparent simplicity leaves the reader with no room to breathe outside the images you select, transmits powerfully and directly to the heart and conscience. Nice, - Dave
  17. David W. Parsley

    Backyard Quince - A Paean to Petworth

    Six years! Has it really been so long? Well, you are still transmuting the experience into art, so something is right! - Dave
  18. David W. Parsley

    Stretching It Out

    Tinker, every line has a healthy dose of alliteration or internal rhyme or both, lending a wry strain (no pun intended?) to the way the piece sounds and moves. So pervasive is this musicality that I was sure you stumble-versed your way into wrap-around rhymes wrong-song and wings-stings, until I looked at the form. Conversely strain-again and style-fragile are so nonintrusive as to be invisible to all but the most alert of readers. Depending on reader or critic you consult, one might receive a differing opinion on which is more difficult or admirable. You do both slant and exact rhyme in the same poem, handling the fascinating form to excellent effect. Well Done, - Davd
  19. badger11

    Ode to Oats

    Nice one Tink. Certainly sells its subject...though I consume porridge to avoid the sweeter cravings😀
  20. Tinker

    Space

    Barry, I had not previously read this, but I agree with it. I think this defines well some of your images. I was not diminishing the creativity of your poem in my comment, I just was saying I couldn't connect, even though I found beauty in some of your images. You don't have to defend your work, I was simply expressing my reaction. ~~Tink
  21. Tinker

    Haiku Fridays

    #35 woke Friday morning in intense sciatic pain no yard work today ~~jvg Morning poem
  22. Tinker

    Daily Poem Challenge

    Write a Raay Visit to the Vet Today Molly got shots and a check-up, disrupting the scene. Between hisses and claws, draws of blood, and screams, seems like she went wild. Child cat, I love her, purrs, once we got home. ~~Judi Van Gorder
  23. eclipse

    Space

    are you familiar with this: In a notorious and influential letter of May 15, 1871, to his publisher-friend Paul Demeny, the sixteen-year-old provincial high-school dropout, Arthur Rimbaud, boldly defined his vision of poetic creativity:
  24. Tinker

    Space

    The last line is really nice Barry, although I think it should be "God's". I have to admit some of the other images are rather confusing and a bit disjointed to me. But that is just me, I am having trouble wrapping my brain this one. ~~Tink
  25. Ode to Oats Verse form: Free Verse Genre: Elemental Ode Prompt: Write about an common everyday thing avoiding cliché. A Morning Poem
  26. Tinker

    Ode to Oats

    Ode to Oats (revision) Steam bowls off the bubbling mound of my morning oatmeal waiting patiently to be smothered by butter oozing into its oaty crevices and soothing rivulets of pearly milk. A smatter of raisins stirred in, renders a tart sweetness to tickle my taste buds. Sustenance to savor. ~~Judi Van Gorder Ode to Oats Steam bowls off the bubbling mound of my morning oatmeal waiting patiently to be smothered by butter oozing into its oaty crevices and the soothing rivulets of pearly milk. A smatter of raisins stirred in, renders a tart sweetness to tickle my taste buds. Sustenance to savor. ~~Judi Van Gorder Notes: ▼
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