« Dyed-in-the-Wool New Englanders | Main | Brief Update »

October 08, 2008

Comments

Ah, this is poetry! And such an amazing image and beautiful photo, Beth.

Cabbage as a metaphor, and a very beautiful one :-)
Your words no joke, and yes I know what you are speaking of.

Beth: this is powerful writing, evocative and sad yet full of hope.

(o)

Very beautiful

Gorgeous, Beth, utterly. And something I very much needed to read tonight, visiting as I am the unfamiliar southeast where Spanish moss hangs from trees and the air is damp and warm. Love to you.

Yes, this is poetry, or prose-poetry. You are working on your writing, working on language to make it meaningful rather than descriptive. You are also writing your life, a meditation on the daily details so that they become meaningful ... like an icon.

Great post, Beth - the photo too.

Ah, Beth; so touching. I want to reach out and share your pain.

In southern Missouri this is a hopeful season. Nature becomes hospitable again, after the pestilence of summer's heat and biting insects (chiggers and ticks) who have held us prisoner inside our lawn.. Work becomes pleasant again, possible. The cool floats me. I've been halted by the velcro of summer's friction. Now that it has been torn away I can sense how I've been impeded. I slide now on runners of ice. It feels great to move. Winds have come up.

Yes yes yes yess and yes. Thanks so much for this.

FA

Tena koe Beth,
Beautiful and timely. Kia ora.
Rangimarie,
Robb

With writing of this quality, you ought to be submitting to qarrtsiluni, Beth!

And the feeling that you capture so beautifully intensifies...

>>To feel the suffering of the world was never something I asked for or wanted, but now, in middle age, it's become ordinary.

Yes. And how amazing that this should be so for so many of us.

Your piece has been with me since you've posted. And look at those Savoys!

Beautiful.

This post seems to me like a wonderful example of wabi-sabi (what I understand of that term). Here we're in the opposite season, yet this feeling's been haunting me lately. Great writing, Beth.

The comments to this entry are closed.

My Photo

Who was Cassandra?


  • In the Iliad, she is described as the loveliest of the daughters of Priam (King of Troy), and gifted with prophecy. The god Apollo loved her, but she spurned him. As a punishment, he decreed that no one would ever believe her. So when she told her fellow Trojans that the Greeks were hiding inside the wooden horse...well, you know what happened.

MY SMALL PRESS