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A light history in meandering

If I walk slowly now, they catch up with me
I squirm and face the horizon
Trying to avoid
The mildew and mould of the ancient thing
Any whiff of it, a vague and present torture in slow motion

My hands are hot and bake my metacarpal bones until they crumble,
gritty if I stroke the cheek of my love,
it saddens me.
They sear through the soft, cool skin on my breast
and rest curled in sanctuary over the shoulder once weighted
with too much of not enough.
a life time journey
to find comfort for abandoned babies,
attempts seem flimsy and shredded,
precarious and bothered by winds of uncertainty
that peel the tiny bit of cover from the vulnerable places.
Breathing slowly one might learn to evade the chill

Beyond the dark pooled pupils
nested in the irises,
a tree grows, to shade the longing into submission,
happily the foliage brings respite,
the trunk begins to strengthen and a heart might be delivered to a dell of peace…
if you know the secret entrance.

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Last few words: 
Feel I've lost the depth & flow of my writing from lack of just "doing" it for too long... looking forward to refining again. This one is a very loose outpour... happy for critique etc. Ok I've removed the ampersands & reworked some of the language, I tried on Anna's suggestions, but they didn't fit my impression (I fear I am such a stubborn thing, I must struggle through my own mind to find a new "way", but I DO value the offer & crit, it makes me go back through it in search of a way to bring the poem to life)... It still has a way to go, there are some quite different takes now though... I wanted to paint the growth of the tree in the eyes of the abandonned baby, grown, in a clearer way, but still retain the imagery connection with garden/sanctuary sensations, it could be too literal now? 1st edit, I'll be back.
Editing stage: 

Comments

Thanks Lonie, I have to agree, it does meander a little far off the page than might work. Good feedback, I tend to get a bit obscure when writing, better to tighten it up perhaps. The idea was to have it be a bit of a meander without constraint, hence its up to the reader where its heading", but it is probably a bit too vague unless you're in my head.

Thanks, it's great to be back

Cheers Anni

Cheers
Anni

My dear friend always told me "Water the seeds of joy first"

author comment

It is so good to have you back here with us again! Welcome! I feel an underlying pain in this piece. The sorrow runs deep, like an underground river. I really like these lines:

They sear through the soft, cool skin on my breast
& rest curled in sanctuary over the shoulder once weighted
with too much of not enough. (especially this line! I know this feeling well!)

Keep on posting, whenever you can. I'll be patient, LOL!

always, Cat

p.s.

I too love Dylan and Jackson Browne!
wspecially Dylan's "Idiot wind" (my theme song) LOL

When you fling poo, some of the stink sticks to you!

"The Book of Styx" can be ordered and purchased on line at:
http://eddystyx.mythramuse.com/

Thanks Cat, so delicious to be back, I've missed writing so much & feel so out of practice after writing constantly since my adolescence, it is a joy, but even more so to stroll back to the richness of literary interaction that is such a great part of Neo.

Yeah, those lines are illustrative of a particularly female perspective I suspect, I can see you connecting with them.

Thanks for your feedback & warm support & welcome.

Anni xx

Cheers
Anni

My dear friend always told me "Water the seeds of joy first"

author comment

"In the irises, a tree grows, to shade the longing into submission,"
I love this bit dear Anni, the tree so incongruous,
so big in the sweet stamen covered tongues of the iris flower,
the depth of their colour deepened even more by the shade.

Some uncomfortable bits in here,
I shall have to study it longer if I can find any way to critique this.
There's much to ponder.

your friend Ann.

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

My dearest Ann, queen of Nordic imagery & expression. Thanks for the welcome back. As always, lovely to find you here.
It's probably a pretty empty work here out of context as it probably occurs, needs a big rejigger to be anything shining, just a whim really.

However for me there is more depth than meets the eye, eye being the critical focus ( accuse the pun), when I wrote about iris, I also had an image of the tree visual within the iris (my eyes are sometimes quite green, & I love the mysteries of visual reflections & imagery found on gazing into the eyes of another or mirrored even. So picture the concept of an inner tree also as you read this, a sanctuary, a comfort & strength, quite private & silent... & you dear one, know the secret ways to such a lovely dell. I know since I have met you there on occasion in your writing & my own.
Love to you kindred soul xx

Cheers
Anni

My dear friend always told me "Water the seeds of joy first"

author comment

when we were living for a time on the streets of Toronto
we walked in Mount Pleasant Cemetary a large and beautiful
place between escarpment plains from the ancient glacial
lake bed Mature trees soared amongst the graves and in
one place a roundabout with just trees and a great towering
white pine in the centre There was a little path leading in
to the large tree and it was quiet in there away from the
busy main streets running north and south on the perimeter
of this great space for the dead, was that pine.. All about
the pine was a powder like snow. Took us a moment to
realize that this is where people come to place ashes
of their beloved.. in private in an overlooked and allowed
quiet "garden" I will never forget that Your poems
are deep and reaching into the dark of the psyche
and eloquently expressed

Thank You

That means a lot coming from you, I feel very honoured, since your writing is among the highest in my esteem of any I have read anywhere. Even this lovely description you have just let flow here is a beautiful thing to drink in literary context. I am so happy to be back among you wonderful minds & hearts.

Dare I say, I would so strongly encourage you to write a book, I would dearly love to read it Steven

Thank you again

A xx

Cheers
Anni

My dear friend always told me "Water the seeds of joy first"

author comment

Ps I am, as always so honoured & grateful to be visited by these lovely writings & sentiments you have left in response to my simple poem

A xx

Cheers
Anni

My dear friend always told me "Water the seeds of joy first"

author comment

Ps I am, as always so honoured & grateful to be visited by these lovely writings & sentiments you have left in response to my simple poem

A xx

Cheers
Anni

My dear friend always told me "Water the seeds of joy first"

author comment

Ps I am, as always so honoured & grateful to be visited by these lovely writings & sentiments you have left in response to my simple poem

A xx

Cheers
Anni

My dear friend always told me "Water the seeds of joy first"

author comment

Hi Annie,

As usual, your work has some delicious lines and wonderful metaphors. I think what is missing is this:
you need to decide if you want to write poetry, write poetry for songs a la the story-teller poets. That will
hone your skills in one or the other direction. Perhaps you can blend the two together: Anni's genre.

just looking at these lines:

If I walk slowly now, they catch up with me
I squirm & face the horizon
Trying to avoid
The mildew & mould of the ancient thing

Start off the poem with

"Ancient thing of mould and mildew--
I face the horizon
but they catch up with me,
squirm (ing)
my avoidance."

Big hugs,
Anna

(must be an Aussie sp. of mould?)

by

Hi lovely Anna, ooh, that is quite exciting, I like this, lots of new possibilities in your comments & very liberating. Yes, you would be completely right, I did spend so very many years writing for song predominently... I did write poetry, but didn't actually recognise it as such until a few years ago when I was made aware of Neo ( I remember in the process, often pondering why I would spend the time, ink & paper doing this writing that would go nowhere but fade & go yellowed until it was most likely burned or tossed away at my demise. On reflection, it is that we MUST write, we writers, not for being read or any other reason, but that it needs to get out of us. Have you read the recent work of emogothgirl? It really captured that life we are bursting with so well) .. I had just written "stuff" in my journals since I was an adolesent, not ever thinking anyone would be interested to read them. It's only that I gain soooo much pleasure (& so much more), when I read other poets (you especially) that I even considered that I might aspire to being a worthy writer, not just of songs, but just for the heart of writing.

Anyway, Anna, this is really hearty feedback that I feel I shall have a bit of a feast on, so thank you.

Anni xx

Cheers
Anni

My dear friend always told me "Water the seeds of joy first"

author comment

Jess harps on me for continually stating the obvious. That said and your comments notwithstanding, I found this to be rather special. A number of strange similes that caught me by surprise and of course, the language is gorgeous.
"With too much of not enough,"
I understand Kaila's observation. Some of the lines are border line country western music tricky, but that kept me not from appreciating them (particularly the quoted one).
You may not like the piece, but it demonstrated a great deal of depth to me.
wesley

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

Learn how, teach others.
The NeoPoet Mentor Program
http://www.neopoet.com/mentor/about

Wesley, thank you, I have to head off to sing now... but not Country songs (chuckle), I will get back to you asap, this is lovely considered feedback & I a grateful & have some responses I want to return to you

Cheers
Anni

Cheers
Anni

My dear friend always told me "Water the seeds of joy first"

author comment

You sing?
I studied voice from nine years old to nineteen. Even had some lessons with Pavarotti's vocal coach, but I didn't know who he was at the time. What sort of music are singing? I'm dreadfully curious. wesley

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

Learn how, teach others.
The NeoPoet Mentor Program
http://www.neopoet.com/mentor/about

Hi Wesley, it took me longer to get back here than I hoped, but here I am, & yes, I sing though for the last few years I was constantly coughing with a relentless range of flus & colds & even whooping cough, I am now joyfully getting back there. I think you & I came to things from oposite ends, which is a fine thing anyway, I sang constantly as a child (think it was a way of keeping myself company, ceratinly when I got my first proper guitar at 13, it was a means to accompany the singing & put structure to songs via writing down the chords, solidifying the melodies a bit more... I think I had a couple of lesson in my 20's but she was very inexperienced (wow, you must have had skill & promise working with Pavarottis teacher!), she was trying to teach me in operatic style & I was more into folk & blues, she was unable to modify & I was unable to translate what she was offering in a way that made any difference to my singing.... Of course now after many years of singing, performing & finally having gone back to study music (including singing coaching), I pull from a little of waht she offered along with a huge range of workshops & masterclasses with various tchniques & singers when I teach myself.... Anyway, my point was that you had much structure & input & refined your skill from an early age, where-as I developed my own style & technique until only 10 years ago when I went back & legitimized my role as a singer & consequently, singing teacher after that. I suspect the same may be true of our writing? I haven't read enough to say at this point, feel free to elaborate. I don't feel either way has more merrit over all, it's the individual experience & what we do with it that counts... is that what you call the transition? I call it the process & ongoing results (since nothing is static).

So do you still sing? Is it something you loved or was it a parental ambition?... I love the language you choose, "dreadfully curious has such a richness & passion within, & I must say I had a chuckle since I had a cat whom I named "Keenly" since I went looking specifically for a kitten who was "Keenly interested" in being my cat (after having a cat that seemed to hate everyone & everything & I have no idea why). The phrase was from a very daggy one off Australian film called "Yahoo Serious", & the scene was him getting carted away to the luney bin with a bunch of contemporaries of brilliant minds (can't remember exactly but the likes of Einstein, Da Vinci, Newton etc. ... don't ponder the inconsistancies of time/georgraphy etc. it was a weird & quirky film), Yahoo was describing some brilliant theory he'd been testing to end up certified, & the one of the other inventors leans in exclaiming "I'm keenly interested", Yahoo, in the expected cliche of bizarre humour, shakes his hand & replies, "Nice to meet you, Keenly". Bad humour aside, I loved the moment & the phrase stuck. Perhaps because I love honest curiosity, or perhaps moreso an enquiring mind, it gives joy to life I think.

Anyway, if you have time (apologies for waffling) let me know what (if) you are singing. To answer your dreadful curiosity, I'm a bi of a musical floozy really, I began in the folk world, even celtic focused for a while, then moved to actually performing my own songs, probably contemporary folk in essence, but I always gravitated toward blues as well. Where I studied the emphasis was on jazz & pop (though pop was never on my agenda). So you can see I am a bit of a musical chamelion, probably country is the only style I have avoided, & I have never had any real operatic training, though I d use some operatic techniques in my teaching & choir directing.

& it's probably more appropriate to PM regarding such things (though I do find it fascinating to have more insight into other writers histories (adds such a depth of understanding, frames the reading just a little, I think). I am intrigued about the horse training reference. I spent my younger years completely horse obsessed (though I never got one & consequently I remember deciding I would ride a motor-bike as a poor second when I got old enough (which I did for many years until I was pregnant)... no, I wasn't a "bikie", I just loved the freedom of riding a motor bike. Anyway, horses, do tell?

I've waffled enogh for today, I have to go facilitate my choir.

Cheers
Anni

Cheers
Anni

My dear friend always told me "Water the seeds of joy first"

author comment

Hmmm, & I didn't respond to your comment yet, apologies... I will, it is a good one. A

Cheers
Anni

My dear friend always told me "Water the seeds of joy first"

author comment

Hmmm, & I didn't respond to your comment yet, apologies... I will, it is a good one. A

Cheers
Anni

My dear friend always told me "Water the seeds of joy first"

author comment

I took lessons when it became obvious I was one of those mutant children who sang like an adult. Vibrato and volume. Music has haunted me all my life. I continued with the lessons when I decided I was to be an actor. I stopped taking lessons because I became an actor (Equity Union card and all). Then I had a nervous breakdown and went in another direction. I have been a lead singer in a heavy metal band, lead in a barbershop quartet (seriously... we competed. Did okay too, though we weren't going to set the world on fire) and sang with the West Side Opera Co. out here for three seasons.
Unfortunately I am manic depressive (text book) and solved it for a couple of decades with bourbon.
A lot of bourbon.
I mean a really hulking amount. At my best I could drink half a gallon straight with no chasers on an empty stomach inside of three hours... and still take a shower without killing myself.
Amounts like that over the years tends to destroy one's voice. I can still sing and if I put myself to it I suppose I could bring it back, but for now it involves a lot of coughing. My favorite sort of singing was choral. Preferably a small group. My high school madrigal group was so special that we toured the west coast of California. It wasn't because we were particularly well skilled (or even got along, ah the fights we had). For one of those reasons only the gods understand, when the twelve of us sang together we produced a sound unique, beautiful and (oddly enough for high school) marketable. We cut an album. Somehow, if you took one of us out of the equation the whole sound fell apart.
For the last 26 years I have been training and showing horses professionally. Everything from Dressage to cattle work. I have always been a gifted teacher (any subject I understand) and have taught voice, theater workshops, ballroom dancing and now horse back riding.
I have even been invited to teach here (go figure).
I was watching "Sixty Minutes" one evening and they were doing a bit on Pavarotti when it came to a practice session. I nearly passed out when I saw that short, mean Bulgarian yelling at the tenor the way he yelled at me. I had never been privy to slightest clue until then.
Weird.
wesley

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

Learn how, teach others.
The NeoPoet Mentor Program
http://www.neopoet.com/mentor/about

Ah "If you know the secret entrance,"
in the dell where the down is comforted and made up,
s Spring lost among the tangles of society
to be found growing again after the rest...

in you green eyes, I have a cabbage a
patch in my blue ones!

Just add this but must read all the above.
Sun shining and the WIND is whisping all into dust devils today,
ice laden from the north!
Exhilarating.

Nordic cloud., only me.

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

Love your additions as ever Annushka.... You have left me with images of snuggling with a doona in a little grotto of bluebells & sycamore trees or something with the made up down thing... yum, I love this writey stuff! PS, not cabages, IRISES!!!!

Wesley, what a life eh? Lucky for you, lots to write about, all of it quite facinating... How's the book going, add it to the list "Author"

Cheers
Anni

My dear friend always told me "Water the seeds of joy first"

author comment
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