hello dearest poet I paint and write much like you because I have to it is a passion I burn with great write❤

Stop, children, what’s that sound? Everybody look what’s goin’ round.

There are so many reasons to write…I am not exactly sure why I do, I just do. I feel like a conduit
meant to put the words down that come to me…and I have no idea from where they come.
But my pen is my brush…I feel like a Pollack when I write…I just throw the words anywhere they want to go.
And yes, Vol, “we do aim higher than our wings”—
Maybe part of our drive is to write the one great poem that will make us famous, or at least known.
j.

You have always had a way of searching and finding clues that make sense of emotions and what they can do to somebody’s life.. its glorious happiness, its intense admission that being can be lonesome at times.

‘We live in shallow waters, miles from shore
satisfied but afraid of being, afraid of depth.

We always aim higher than our wings’

From start to finish a gentle confession but the finish suggests more – aiming higher is the adventure and eageress of seeing what others tragically miss. Your pen is mightier than most, tis the gold that makes magic, sir.

Am more than ready to review and then offer my thoughts, sir.
‘It is all I can do to not paint
everything red as fire, or yellow as
a bobcat’s eye because the world
might end in Ragnarök after all,
we the people buried under sparkles
of glacial aquamarine, bleak as dreams.’

From start to final word, the above is a brilliant canvas, Vol

hello dearest poet I feel your passion here and yes the song doesn’t end until we die I just may meet a few people after that too great write❤

Well, thank you Crimsin, for taking the time… I am brand new here and this site has a learning curve…
Vol

Vol,
Tim alerted me of this. Before responding to comments by others, we need to hit reply. Otherwise they will not see our “thank you”–
If you hit reply first, you will know it worked because your reply to the commentor will be to the right, under the comment.
As for this poem, wow. The whitewater imagery is powerful, but what I really appreciate is what you have done opposite here. The whitewater usually controls us, but here we are in control. She dances blues and we man the paddle and dance along with her.
j.

Perhaps the tornado swept something from beneath your doormat, sir Vol! Whatever reached land seems to have drowned something either dear or dreadful. Perhaps this simple scribbler might have the metaphors explained, please.
‘roar and slam the rocks
past trees and cliffs,
infusion,
confusion’
Wish there was an NB to explain why such words came to be written. I know Welsh whitewater from the past, almost lost the thrill of what was invigorating but uncontrollable – just as life can be. But there again, people try their best to survive. Somehow. Don’t doubt those who know you well, will understand. You’re known for your compasssion, learned via the good book, of course. ‘Do unto..

Joy,
This is an old poem, a response to another poet’s reading back in Nashville. He was wondering about the lack of passion in his life… You cannot expect meaning from nothing,,, not to mention the darkness of boredom…
Vol

Once read that boredom is something created by an unknown to renew the human spirit – but only if the body has one! Said by an online poet, think Bryson! Still working on it 🙂

That teeny bug has been noticed by a man with imagination and humanity – what a delightful display of both, sir!

Well, I never went into that deep a thought about an insect that small. Very cool that you made me think about it.

Takes a gentle mind to notice what so many ignore or don’t even notice. Charming words, sir Vol.

Hello, Vol – So good to see you, thought you’d gone walk-about. No way of contacting you other than here and our time just don’t coincide, sadly. Feel free to say hi or something when you can, sir. Take care.

Lol, dear Vol, you and I must be on the same wavelength these days. Just the other day, I watched as an ant crawled on the ledge of my window sill. My impulse was to obliterate him, but then… I started writing a poem about him and his followers. Not to spoil it here, though. I will post it in due time. Meanwhile, I must say, I love seeing this compassionate man inside the poet. You could have squashed him, but decided to allow his itty bitty life to have purpose. My hero!!