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HEART AND SOUL

Who has Not spent time in sterile places
where towers soar and traffic crawls
where too many folks wear worried faces
where all that's heard are pigeons' calls?

I go there when I feel I must
and walk the hardened concrete trails
amongst people I would fear to trust.
I've inhaled smog and all that it entails.

Then retreated to my country home
where rabbits play and wild birds sing
until it's time once more for me to roam
to the deep forests to find...something.

So I set off in my bucket of rust.
I'd forgotten so many little things,
how country road signs all wear dust
and how dawn's silence sometimes rings.

I park and roll my window down
beneath a spring oak by the road
then slowly lose my urban frown
far, far from my heart's abode.

For can't one person have two homes?
One where heart and love resides,
the other where the spirit roams,
where timelessness and peace abides.

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content

Comments

That's some bloody good poetry right their Stan and if you so much as make one joke I will slap you that's pure poetry at its best, wow a good night to call in for a few poetic dreams ...

nice to read you bro

love always Jayne xox

“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” — W.B. Yeats

OK no joking reply. Last thing I need is you coming all the way around the world just to slap me. Thanks for such kind comment but I know it needs a bit more work. Always good to see you pop up on a poem of mine........stan

author comment

I have always enjoyed our walks with you, you show me things in an earlier time I wouldn't know how to begin to dream up ... thank you for that

Love always Jayne xox

“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” — W.B. Yeats

I couldn't agree more with what Jayne said...

Regards,

raj (sublime_ocean)

you're looking for an excuse to slap me too? lol. Thanks for taking time to drop by........stan

author comment

you have the essence of sonnets there
Shakespeare will get a scare
no? Okay
night mare
how did Stan ever dare ?
Now Stan ur in public glare
all stare!

I nearly stopped at pubic!...
hahaahahaaa Stan
ur a REAL poetic man

I'm curious as to what a pubic glare would look like lol.......stan

author comment

I just passed by
PUBIC WAS I THEN
NOW NO MORE
YOU ARE THE WESTERN STYLE EXPERT
WOULD YOU please*****
IS IT ANY BETTER OR WORSE

*******YOU GLANCE AT MINE
AUTUMNAL VERSE

NO FAVORS
YOU MAY CURSE

"PUBIC" was I then?

author comment

Kindred spirits here. :). Thank goodness for the countryside and the tranquility that you so well describe. I get that "urban frown" but once out in the country it soon washes away with the bird song. Love your nature poems Stan. :). I think it's great as it is!

Love Mand xxx

I spent my first 12-13 years in large cities/towns. Memphis, San Diego and Panama City. Perhaps it takes a city slicker to truly appreciate the country lol. I'm glad you liked this scribble........stan

author comment

Thanks for sharing.

Alid

thank you.......stan

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you know, I always the way you rhyme it all. I can't do that most of the time. Always stuck with near rhymes at best.

Alid

It's the challenge of trying to rhyme without it seeming forced which I enjoy. I guess some are meant to be rhymers and others aren't but what matters is doing whichever you do well lol. Always good to see a person return to a poem after an edit. Thank you................stan

author comment

Yet another picture from your pen.
It is great that you can paint for us things many never see.
I use to travel each weekend to my Mothers home to take her shopping and a few goodies, the journey took 40 minutes on a bus, I often thought that it would have been gret to have a small pamphlet to describe to the travellers what was passing outside of the bus.
It travelled through the countryside of Wiltshire here and it passed a history of Stone age burial tombs on the hills to the badges of the troops from 1914-18 time so there just outside the window the near whole history went by I always wonder who saw what and knew what they were passing, I think I shall have to write a little about the journey, so that you can see better what I wanted to let the passengers know.
Great write and you take care of you both,
Yours as always, Ian..

.
Give critique to help keep Neopoet great.
Unconditional love to you all.
"Learn to love yourself first"
Yours as always, Ian.T, Sparrow, and Yenti

Thanks for dropping by. The only stone age tombs around here are Indian burial mounds whose locations are guarded in near secrecy to keep them from being dug up and looted. I once saw a string of 4 of them on a lake bottom during a severe drought.........you're right, I've never thought about a poem dealing with them......hmmmmm..........stan

author comment

.

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

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Getting verbose in your old age lol........stan

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Getting verbose in your old age lol........stan

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I love both my homes, the one where the spirit roams, for me resides within where my body rests. great title, I have a hard time with coming up with a good title. I love this poem it opens up new vistas. looking through your responses, I see the dear sparrow.. his kindness and wisdom will not be forgotten by me...long will I remember Ian.

*hugs, Cat

*
When someone reads your work
And responds, please be courteous
And reply in kind, thanks.

I go back to old poems and the ghosts of Ian and the others now writing on the other side pop up and haunt me............

author comment

and the moonman is in that number, *sigh...

*hugs, Cat

*
When someone reads your work
And responds, please be courteous
And reply in kind, thanks.

I read my old poems from the old site and here and like Stan I am haunted by the people I grew to love who are now gone. I have two cherished possessions. A dictionary from Ian and a stuffed Kookaburra from Jess. Hello sweetheart long time no see or read. Hugs and love to you both. ❤

“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” — W.B. Yeats

Ian sent this old fossil a fossil from near his home and a book of short poems (likely a dig at my tendency to long writes lol). How are you doing these days?

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