This is a most beautiful piece. You do such free verse very nicely. Inspiring to me. I love the spare feel. Particularly because when one is outside–among nature, as it were, one feels so small–so vulnerable. Yet, on the one hand, so much beauty surrounds us; on the other hand, it can harm, or even kill us. Part of nature’s charm is in its danger, and it is, I believe a good part of why we feel so satisfied when we tame a small portion of it.
Author Archives: David Emeron
I Stand In Awe…
I wish I could convey all this, and more, and feel I am hardly adequate to do so.
Of course, inventing a new form of Sonnet…
…is very like inventing a new form of buggy whip. I have two–among many more such–friends who think it’s wonderful that I write sonnets, but who are unable to apprehend them. Public education has–and in my very humble opinion, quite very deliberately–failed these dear souls; something for which I would like to see the guilty pay the appropriate price. What would be the price paid for destroying a mind? Lobotomy, I think, if the universe were fair–which of course it is not.
When I click “like”…
…on one of my posts, it is not only because I like it very much, but also, because I have decided I am finished, absolutely and positively, with any and all lucasing. (still, there may be prequels though)
Even givinn this, I still feel a bit funny or guilty clicking on my own work. But so far I haven’t gone blind. And anyway, I have found that if one wants ones own blogs to appear in ones “reader,” then one must “follow” one’s own blog as well. I have done so, and haven’t gone blind from that either.
Now, here’s where, if I were already blind, I would admit it. But upfront, I’ll let everyone know that that is not the case; I am not blind.
A few changes…
…this morning’s rain-related offering. It occurred to me that It would be quite easy, quite nice, and quite wonderful to make the final couplet:
Older she, than land they rest; her crops
Are they; if brick, or straw–so unrequited.
be a compressed version of the other three quatrains. Continue reading
My heart is just…
…not in it today….
So it occurs to me that…
…this entry (spaces removed):
as i slept
by a veranda
open to the sea
on a cool night
just right
to letthe wind
and moonlight
and the stars
blow quietly
past me
as i slept
… is rather a sonnet of sorts if two (acutally quite releveant) lines are added to each verse:
as i slept
just inside
by a veranda
open to the sea
on a cool night
just right
to letthe wind
and moonlight
and the stars
blow quietly
past me
caressing
as i slept
