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  2. badger11

    Poetry In Public

    I have a poem appearing here https://poetryinpublic.co.uk/a-reluctant-dog-dutiful-owners-phil-wood/ all the best Phil
  3. badger11

    Pentre Village (revised)

    Thank you very much for your close reading and engagement David. You have your finger on the pulse. A poem comes alive with such a reading/reader. take care Phil
  4. David W. Parsley

    Pentre Village (revised)

    Hey, badge, I got here too late to make any impact on this very fine poem, except to say I endorse all your choices! Exquisite use of synecdoche and metonymy, as already mentioned, but I just have to say it myself: "bible of floods", the idling wish list, and I suspect Greenfly Gravity as well. But you are up to your old tricks, my friend, and I see significant plays on word as well as a broad symbolism alluding to the arriving plagues of Climate Change: drought as well as flood; a soggy demise for denizens of our "village" (the world, of course, but only because I know who is writing this) who are not situated to cope effectively (Be ready for Climate Change refugees and the demise of creatures who can not even participate in that desperate play - welcome to the Sixth Great Mass Extinction!); even our simplest wishes are being shelved, hopefully just in abeyance (idling) till this latest plague blows over. Perhaps our hardened hearts have prevented us, like the Pharaoh of Exodus, from answering the clarion call of science speaking with the voice of threatened and perishing peoples of every genus and species, translating out for us with arithmetic precision the data-driven cry of Earth itself, "Let my people go." Biblical indeed! And all this quietly happening in a little corner of that self-same Earth, with the poet musing about neighbors and villages, honeydew and a few slugs. I think I need to sit down for a while. Thanks (I think!), - David
  5. tonyv

    Dragonfly

    Barry, this is unbelievably good. It's in tune with environmental concerns but doesn't come across as preachy. The poem is immediately striking with the appearance of The ghost of a rainforest with the last fires of a bonsai sun in its eyes, a novel and memorable image. It is all exceptionally good, especially the first sentence of the second paragraph and the references to "distant kings who caress darkness." Excellent work. Tony
  6. tonyv

    Crossing Over

    This is awesome, Judi! I was expecting a poem about passing away and smiled instead from start to finish. I love how you depict life in that town using "Main Street" images and the passage of time. The narrative is conversational, but not to the extreme, so as to not lose poetic effect. Excellent work! I think I could get used to it. I would probably stay till I run out of money or they run out of tacos! 🌮 Tony PS -- Happy July 4th weekend! 🎆🎇
  7. tonyv

    Clouds

    Interesting observation, Phil.
  8. tonyv

    Clouds

    Judi, this one's concise. I like that it doesn't dwell on current events, rather the mention in L2 (15 percent or one out of six lines) seems almost incidental; the poem's mood works when applied to other circumstance, whichever might be affecting the reader, also. I also like "Look above the clouds." There can be storms below, but aircraft pilots and passengers see a different view. Nice work! Tony
  9. eclipse

    Dragonfly

    The ghost of a rainforest with the last fires of a bonsai sun in its eyes lays down on the pond, the moon is caught between the wings of a limbata dragonfly one of Singapore's sons. Clouds run blindly for a non existent train they detect yellow markings reflected on water and the urge to protect a rare dragonfly. Whose hands guide the synthetic sun as concrete is poured tonne by tonne, mine the cache in the limbatas eyes of black, hushed cries from the light of dying stars. Drumming wings dipped in fire inaudible to distant kings who caress darkness, they are ordained to bring desecration to rainforests, gold tears are loaned from melting crowns.
  10. A. Baez

    Trees in Public Places

    Thanks, Judi, your feedback is so heartening! I'm glad you picked up on the linked stanza rhyme pattern--I love it when my sneaky little details are noticed and I'm glad to learn the official term for this one.
  11. Tinker

    Crossing Over

    Hi Phil, cross walk is the path designated by white painted lines on the asphalt where pedestrians walk across a road usually from corner to corner. Since i have remained a resident of this area for 57 years, I too prefer a slower pace. Though, admittedly when I visit Mexico where my husband spends a lot of his time on our boat, the even slower pace has me climbing the walls with boredom after only a few days. ~~Judi
  12. badger11

    Crossing Over

    Hi Judi, As you can imagine, I enjoyed the perspective of a local, the gradual change of outside on inside, the voice of the local in behaviours. I'm not familiar with the American term crosswalk. It is an effective image in your poem. I liked the sense of defiant ownership with how the road is crossed as opposed to the regulated tourists. These is a sense of independence there, individuality.. I believe in slowtime rather than the rush, but that's me. all the best Phil
  13. Tinker

    Crossing Over

    Crossing OverThere are five crosswalksstriped on the roadsof my little village.Four at the four-way stopin the middle of townand one as one entersfrom the east. That’s where the tourists come from.Neither north nor southallows that cautionand the western entrance, coming down off the mountain,is at the four-way stop,that's my way in. Regular visitors saunter within the linesand locals cross where ever we want.Heck, it's our town.The white paint is wornbut visible. One stop signlazily leans to one side. A drunkmust have hit it at onetime or another. In ourtwo block-long watering hole,we have five restaurants, threeof which have full bars, the others serve beer and wine.I remember when there wereno crosswalks painted hereand only three dining halls. I’m told one had a brothel upstairs, but that was before my time. We are moving forward through the 20th century slowly.Someday we may even cross overinto the 21st. ~~Judi Van Gorder
  14. badger11

    Pentre Village (revised)

    Pleased the sense of place comes across Judi. We were going to travel to Seville this September, our son was going to fly from London to meet us there, but we've postponed until next year. I feel the lack of travel has given us a greater sense of Wales. All our walks are within the five limit imposed by the Welsh government. We haven't even crossed the border to England! all the best Phil
  15. badger11

    Clouds

    I so agree Judi. empathy is such a guiding word for me because I find myself so remote from 'dark' clouds. This morning I uprooted some broad beans overrun with blackfly, but enjoyed the scent of sweet peas that have thrived in the wet sunny weather. We have been limited to five miles travelling in Wales. It feels like how life was lived before the advent of trains/cars, a local life where the warmth comes from inside, and from the outside the 'world news' is like news from another galaxy. I like the positive direction of your poem. I've always believed, and experienced, that happiness is as inevitable as unhappiness. all the best Phil
  16. Tinker

    Pentre Village (revised)

    Hello Badge, I love that you write of places I've never been. You capture the landscape and ambiance of the area so beautifully that I almost feel I am there. I arrived after the tweeks and yes for me the latest revision is clearer. Another tight efficient poem, thanks for showing us how. ~~Judi
  17. Tinker

    Trees in Public Places

    Hi AB, Here I am in a late night catch up mode, enjoying your lovely polished piece. Your craftsmanship is undeniable. Th rhythm flows fluidly, guided by well timed line breaks and perfect punctuation. I love the linked stanza rhyme pattern almost invisible. Nice. ~~Judi
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  19. Tinker

    Necessity

    I imagine many Texan homes have inflatable pools this time of year. They are everywhere in So Cal. If you don’t have an in ground pool you have to at least have an above ground one. Anything to get relief from the heat. I can picture this so clearly. As usual your words are so relatable. ~~Tink
  20. Tinker

    The last walk

    I wish I wrote that line. ~~Tink
  21. Tinker

    Three Fingers and a Thumb

    Hi Bob, Yep that pointer digit does create mayhem. It always points away and at. Good one. ~~Judi
  22. Tinker

    Vines and Entanglements

    Hi DC, The ivy parasite that climbs and kills trees, tangling in all sorts of pattern, if removed leaves its footprint. This is the first thought that came to mind when I read this. It doesn’t hang or drape, it clings and yes it twists and winds and binds. Just trying to sort these images sounds painful. Interesting piece that I will come back to. ~~Judi
  23. Tinker

    Clouds

    Clouds Summer in darkness under masks and mass marches, where is the season's sunshine? Look above the clouds, seek knowledge and empathy, warm days can follow cold storms. ~~Judi Van Gorder Verse Form Mondo
  24. badger11

    Antarctica (to Robert Frost)

    I've enjoyed your 'landscape' poems for a long time Tony and this is no exception - the vastness, the distances, the human realities of separation - existential, but anchored with the simple, the human 'hello' (in that sense the concluding line is not overweighted in its metre). best Phil
  25. A. Baez

    Antarctica (to Robert Frost)

    Oh, true! It's amazing how much less this poem makes the reader aware of its one-sentence-ness--I think because until the end, each piece of it is less reliant upon what follows for its import than "Tent." I suppose there are actually a fair number of one-sentence poems out there! Ha! Before you start aspiring, first better determine whether you've actually already achieved this! I'd say that this is one of those poetic goals that is not worth aspiring to for its own sake, but if an occasion arose in which such treatment seemed fitting and possible, then it would be worthwhile as a goal to meet in passing. I'd have to check to see how near I've come to doing this myself, in a sonnet or otherwise. I know that I do often write in long--even very long--sentences, both in poetry and prose. That wasn't my intent, just a side effect of documenting in writing comments that I had made orally to you. Yes indeed--but don't let it keep you from generating some new ones! P.S. Is there a reason you wrote "mammoth age" instead of something like "mammoths' age"?
  26. tonyv

    Antarctica (to Robert Frost)

    Yes, Frost's sonnet "The Silken Tent" is a single complex sentence. I would suggest that Keats' "Bright Star" is like that, too. I think I might have a few poems where I've come close in the sense that the entire poem is a sentence, but I don't think I've done it in a sonnet ... yet! Aspirations! a vivid anthropomorphization that makes me imagine celebrities ensconced in enclosed balcony seats watching a staged spectacle from on high. I remember you told me this just yesterday, and I very much like the way you pictured it. That third line broaches quite a claim! Can't get much lonelier than those remote ends of the earth and the universe! Yes, I've removed the italics. Thank you for that! Something in my gut wants to hear this as a line of five pure iambs to really drive it home, although this might be a challenge to do well: my best idea right now is something like "With naught to get and nothing to bestow," but the archaism of "naught" is arguably problematic. "With nothing gotten, nothing to bestow" or something along those lines might be another option. I'm inclined to agree. I think within the next couple of weeks I'll come up with a suitable replacement that accomplishes what you've suggested. I'm struck that the poet Frederick Goddard Tuckerman, to whom you've recently introduced me, was very similarly described by Stephanie Burt in her forward to a collection of this poet's works. That's a connection I can appreciate, so I'll have to take a look back at both. I, too, seem to be configured that way, so perhaps that's one of the reasons why I'm drawn to these two poets. Thank you for bumping "Antarctica." (We'll have to read more of my old poems together. 😉) Thank you, also, for putting so much care and thought into your comments on my poem(s) and elsewhere across the forums.
  27. A. Baez

    Antarctica (to Robert Frost)

    A tight poem, as well-constructed as it is complex. Its second sentence, in particular, is a tour de force, introducing detail after detail without once losing its coherence, all in flawless meter and the intricate, distinctive terza rima scheme. In its length and coherence particularly, this line reminds me of Frost's "Silken Tent," which you had brought to my attention recently. I had questioned the spaces that you have used before and after the ellipses, but you've assured me that that is a style accepted by some. I particularly like the phrase, a vivid anthopomorphization that makes me imagine celebrities ensconced in enclosed balcony seats watching a staged spectacle from on high. I also like that you are brave enough in this poem, with its Antarctic context, to set forth your own take, distinct from both Frost and Pascal, on the space between the stars. That takes some clarity and guts to do this, particularly in an homage to Frost. is also a striking image that, while I had to take a moment to realize that it was not meant to be literal, managed to yield to me its intent quickly enough. Wow, what an interesting interpretation--another compelling anthropomorphization. That third line broaches quite a claim! It was not clear to me from my initial unguided readings what you have since explained to me about these two lines--that their intended meaning was that when friend and foe first said hello, they were friend and friend. To me, such clarity would be best achieved by somehow also defining these individuals' more permanent identities. I do like the internal rhyme of "foe" and "hello." And as you've agreed, I didn't see the need for italicization of "desert places," although it alludes to Frost's poem of this name; those unfamiliar with the poem would not be led by those italics to infer its existence, and those familiar with the piece would enjoy this allusion the most if presented unobtrusively, as it is now in your revision; further, I don't believe that the phrase is distinctive enough to oblige a credit in the interests of avoiding plagiarization. Something in my gut wants to hear this as a line of five pure iambs to really drive it home [edit: its metrical deviations lend it a lightness that seems inappropriate], although this might be a challenge to do well: my best idea right now is something like "With naught to get and nothing to bestow," but the archaism of "naught" is arguably problematic. "With nothing gotten, nothing to bestow" or something along those lines might be another option. I also loved your engrossing notes, which read like the work of a true academic-poet. I'm struck that the poet Frederick Goddard Tuckerman, to whom you've recently introduced me, was very similarly described by Stephanie Burt in her forward to a collection of this poet's works. I'd say that methodologies can be pathological and pathologies can be methodical! In any case, at least you are self-aware. I relate to this type of interface with the external reality particularly with respect to my younger years. However, it is possible to transmute this dynamic into brighter forms--either finding joy within and thus without as well, or finding a joy within strong enough to counteract clear gloom without. Either possibility is good news for us all!
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