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![Profile picture of kesnerfreds]()
kesnerfreds wrote a new post
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Read MoreGrief is a solitary room,a place you sit in alone. Over time that room stretches;grief becomes a shared landscape,the mourned being landscape itself—not gone, but part of the airthat settles around each connection. It turns into a kind of weatheryou move...
8 Comments-
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![Profile picture of kesnerfreds]()
Thanks, Peter.
That solid feedback truly helps🙏🏻🕊️
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![Profile picture of Knight]()
Beautiful words. Rich and full of imagery.
Regards
James-
![Profile picture of kesnerfreds]()
Thank you, James.
That’s made this day more lovable 🙏🏻🕊️
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![Profile picture of Fia Naturie]()
“Over time the room stretches” that is so true.
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![Profile picture of kesnerfreds]()
Thanks, Fía.
It’s the little truths that fill a day🕊️🙏🏻
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![Profile picture of FlatDaddy]()
Damn, Bricky, you may be right. It’s been a while since I’ve been anywhere where grief is part of the landscape, but I recall times when I have been among those who are helplessly lost in their grief at the loss of a loved one, and the air was palpably thick with it, cloying, making it difficult to breathe. You are absolutely correct, my friend!
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![Profile picture of kesnerfreds]()
There’s also our Charlie Brown days: “good grief!” Thanks, FD🙏🏻🕊️
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![Profile picture of kesnerfreds]()
kesnerfreds wrote a new post
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Read More“Nipper”A small dog waits beside the brass horn,ears lifted, body held in that soft readinessonly devotion can teach.Once a wanderer,he learned the shape of shelterin the warmth of a single voice.Cold metal greets him now.The horn’s rim carries a...
4 Comments-
![Profile picture of Styxian]()
Wonderful write. Vivid and truly engrossing. Well done.
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![Profile picture of kesnerfreds]()
Thank you Styxian. Most appreciated 🙏🏻🕊️
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![Profile picture of Fia Naturie]()
You showed what you were thinking about so well. Really good
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![Profile picture of kesnerfreds]()
Thank you so much, dear Fía🙏🏻🕊️
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![Profile picture of kesnerfreds]()
kesnerfreds wrote a new post
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Read More“between the leaves”Midday.A shaded path beside the stream.The grass glows in the heat.Damp earth rises — sharp, clean —with a faint scent of wet bark.A first gustturns.A curl of dust rises at my feet.The air carries a metal tang.The...
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![Profile picture of kesnerfreds]()
kesnerfreds wrote a new post
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Read More"hills to climb" A figure counted once,standing where the verge breaks open.Word intact, meaning thinned,a marker left upright by habit alone. Grass leans in, listening.Its tilt becomes direction,though the ground beneath itslides in its own quiet argument. Your craft appears sideways—a pattern...
4 Comments-
![Profile picture of Styxian]()
Nice.
I was told ages ago that it’s a flaw in writing to give inanimate things the ability to do conscious things, like the grass leaning to listen, as if it knew to.
Yet, I argued that in creative writing, comes a creative freedom to paint things in a different light. To give it that “as if”.
That’s what makes it more interesting and even unpredictable.
Well done poem here. I truly enjoyed it.-
![Profile picture of kesnerfreds]()
Took out the “as if” during the edit to tighten the line. It’s like jumping into coloured chalk floor paintings and let Mary Poppins take care of the rest. And yes, I was told that too. But then again poetic licence, freedom of speech and creative expression all say otherwise. Thanks for your much valued visit. Truly grateful for the word you left here as well. 🙏🕊️
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![Profile picture of Honoria]()
Dear K,
Even your summary waxes poetic. I enjoyed this piece because the inanimate had something to offer. It was a lovely image seeing and feeling the energy transfer from one thing to another throughout the write. Lovely piece. H🌷
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![Profile picture of kesnerfreds]()
Thank you, dear Honoria, for keeping that energy in transfer-flow. Now, even after the poem has rested from its reading a work it began continues on. Most appreciatively, K.
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![Profile picture of kesnerfreds]()
kesnerfreds wrote a new post
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Read MoreWe gather with the year still warmfrom all the hands that shaped it,passing cups across the tableas if the work might start againthe moment someone nods,each of us carrying this stretch of our yearin pockets, boots, and notebooks.A creak...
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Nailed it….👍