How sad that all things must change. I can relate in some ways just walking out my front door and seeing rows of houses where once woods where we played sat. All my childhood friends left when they heard of other boroughs moving in. They were right. I can imagine how hard it must be for you to go back and see a different world, one not so loving.

This poem is full of gentle nostalgia – the raspberries, the cows, the hills all bring the past vividly to life. It’s quietly profound, and I could almost step into that memory myself. Beautifully done, j

Phenomenally penned, Jacob. Love the nostalgic flavor, and the memories in a small corner of a past universe. Excellent write my friend. Appreciate you.

Damian

Some say you should never go back. Not me, I am a great one for nostalgia. Things change, not always for the better, but memories last a lifetime. Fabulous poem and your latest book title too. I love our bovine friends. Can remember walking through meadows myself as a child.

Chris

That is a horrible feeling when you think about it. You had it in your hands to write then it gets dashed away.

Did you ever have a really great idea, but you are driving somewhere, and by the time you get where you are going….abracadabra….poof.
the thought has left you?
Ugh!
Thank you, Fia.
j.

Yes, the mojo being torn away or lost. Often it’s the frustration of knowing what could have been that really hurts.

If we weren’t poets, we would probably just say “Oh well.”

But we are, so it hurts deeply when we lose good ideas…and at my age, I really have to catch them fast.

We have all been. I was black coffee with three sugars for years. I cut the sugar and the coffee and many other desired tasty stuff. Sucks. But, I’m only 9 years away from the ages my parents were when they died. I want a bit more time.

Cleverly penned, Jacob. The life of a writer, I think we’ve all been there. Great storytelling my friend. Appreciate you.

Damian

If you lose an idea you will always have another. If you have it brewing it will resurface or it will fly on.

A very vivid scene painted with few words

Regards James

I have always found a cup of coffee to be a great conjure of thought. Just like a rainy day that puts you in the mood for film noirs at TCM. Somehow, I just can’t imagine you ever being at a loss for words!

Interesting write. I found it quite intriguing.

You painted a picture in perfect detail of places I once visited.
👍

You just nailed doom to this particular page .. enlightening all those passing through on the off chance and those intentionally visiting while simultaneously de-coding a significant percentage of what is left of mystery .. I’m glad I swung by this way Betty .. Warmly yours, Neville

Such a sad tale. Addictions kill and pull people into the gutter only to die. Your poem encapsulates the experience as though Satan were in the room with them.

Great images in this Betty. Great poem.

If you can shove aside the exhaustion, this is what it’s like to be awake for 24 hours. All times of day have their beauty and their enchantments. I truly believe you’ve captured the delights of the lark and the owl. Much enjoyed!

Clay