badger11 Posted January 29, 2021 Share Posted January 29, 2021 My son buries my feet in sand with his red spade. The sun's unfolding a gold-leaf across Cardigan bay. I dream of sleep. He digs. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
tonyv Posted February 14, 2021 Share Posted February 14, 2021 Wright-like and to my liking -- there are two things that make this poem personal and thus "real": the mention of "my son" and the local reference. I was going to say that the presentation could be enhanced by the inclusion of what I call "album art" -- a picture -- but when I went to Wikipedia to read about Cardigan Bay and to look for a picture, I concluded that then the experience would, in effect, be just the opposite: the poem would enhance any picture one could find online, save a photograph from another decade, from that day; that's the only picture which could enhance the experience of this poem. Tony Quote Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
badger11 Posted February 14, 2021 Author Share Posted February 14, 2021 Thanks Tony. Wright! Thank you very much😀 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
David W. Parsley Posted February 25, 2021 Share Posted February 25, 2021 Spare yet vivid. Echoes of W. C. Williams here, with a healthy dose of Gary Snyder type serenity, but with a family comfort not often found in either. Nice, - David Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
badger11 Posted February 26, 2021 Author Share Posted February 26, 2021 Thank you David. Very much appreciate the nuances of your reading. all the best Phil Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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