badger11 Posted January 29 Share Posted January 29 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 post Share on other sites
tonyv Posted February 14 Share Posted February 14 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 post Share on other sites
badger11 Posted February 14 Author Share Posted February 14 Thanks Tony. Wright! Thank you very much😀 Quote Link to post Share on other sites
David W. Parsley Posted February 25 Share Posted February 25 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 post Share on other sites
badger11 Posted Friday at 02:20 AM Author Share Posted Friday at 02:20 AM Thank you David. Very much appreciate the nuances of your reading. all the best Phil Quote Link to post Share on other sites
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