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Bringing Us Home

The rounded nest
The boxy hive

The glinting glassy lake
And the heavy
Rolling waves
Of the sea

Nature is our soul’s mirror
Or an invitation
To consider
A different way to be

The tree with its lunging roots
The thunder’s raucous roar

The atom shedding electrons
Or a ladybug
In spurts of semi-circular flight

The botanist
The nuclear physicist
The zoologist

Find themselves
In what they study

Their experience
With the microscope
The magnifying glass
The monograph

A poem
Of sight and sound
Sentiment and significance

Bringing them
Bringing us
Home

To the planet
Earth

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: 

Comments

First and foremost, I may not be your target audience, if so, ignore my comments.

For me, there was no theme, there was no impetus to continue the poem. I wanted a point, a direction, but I feel you opted for imagery without substance and a conclusion without passion. The first six lines made a promise, the rest of the work walked away from it.

I want to know your unequivocal opinion, your call for action, your declaration of spine.

A poet offends someone or they are not writing, merely citing words designed to display what hopes to be clever. Offend the world, make it think, never grant it an easy answer.

---------------------------------------------------------

Jonathan Moore

Annoying the world, one person at a time

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thanks for your honest comments, Jonathan. I don't necessarily agree that a poet must offend. haha. though I think it's beautiful when they do. this is just a little celebration of the poem that is our planet, and the poets that are scientists, deciphering the world's meaning through "microscope" etc. I respect that it didn't go deep enough or in new enough territory for you. in the words of another poem I've written: "sometimes when I steer, I steer towards the veneer, sometimes when I drive, it's much more like a dive, deep beneath the surface so you can see my heart, in my conversation and also in my art."

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