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The Playwrights Forum > The Art & Craft of Writing > Poet's Corner : Critique my Poem > 1951

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1951  Rate Topic 
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 Posted: Wed May 13th, 2009 02:42 pm
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blackjohnnie
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Mana: 
lovely poem, Timmy.

tap me on the shoulder if you need anything.

john

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 Posted: Fri May 8th, 2009 02:02 pm
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in media res
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"Honor Thy Father."

You certainly have.

I am sending my kind and sympathetic thoughts your way.


in media res

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 Posted: Fri May 8th, 2009 01:32 pm
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DWolfman
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“love,” you say, “is all about opportunity”

I have no doubt you made the most of all of your opportunities to demonstrate that love.  My condolences to you and hopes that the empty spot will continue to fill with treasured memories in farewell.

-DW-

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 Posted: Fri May 8th, 2009 03:13 am
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Potabasil
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Timmy

The first poem I ever wrote  was about my sister.  She had dementia.  I now know.  And I know by sitting here and going through all the poems you have published to this forum it got me through all the tears and pain.

My heart goes out to you

Imelda

Last edited on Fri May 8th, 2009 12:44 pm by Potabasil

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 Posted: Fri May 8th, 2009 02:16 am
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Proboscisbunny
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Oh, Timmy...what a beautiful poem.

I lost my Mom to Alzheimer's this past September. It's always harder on the family. Mom was happy as a clam until the very end, it was the rest of us that suffered. I thought that I'd already lost her to the disease, but when she finally passed it was a whole other kind of loss.

I'm here if you need...

So sorry for your loss...

Vanessa

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 Posted: Fri May 8th, 2009 02:04 am
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timmy
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To those of you who know...

I appreciate your thoughts very much...

"1951" was written when my dad retreated into dementia and I could no longer ask him questions he understood...

timmy

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 Posted: Thu May 7th, 2009 11:55 pm
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Potabasil
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So so beautiful Timmy

I will be thinking about you and your family tomorrow

You are in my thoughts and prayers

Imelda

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 Posted: Thu May 7th, 2009 09:25 pm
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timmy
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In honor of my father who passed away this week:

this is a poem

about missing

 

*

 

about arms needing to reach

out to brush grass from your back,

telling you everything you will ever

need is here, will always be here

and green & budding like spring

and you not quite believing this

 

*

 

about a voice, a throat pink

and smooth, speaking of Betty,

the dancer, clicking her heels

at Bar Harbor to Rosemary Clooney’s

“Beautiful Brown Eyes”

or Jonnie Rays “Cry”

 

about eyes picturing a ripe summer,

telling her she is beautiful without

speaking, thinking of a rose,

instead offering a white daisy

 

“love,” you say, “is all about opportunity”

 

*

 

about words so far apart they are

more like fireflies, blinking messages

and you saying after the music stops,

“let’s go lean against my car and look

at the stars until we both go blind”

 

*

 

about tongues and red licorice

and how they sweet and curl

and how you still liked both,

even after forty-seven years

of marriage

 

*

 

this is a poem

about missing

all these things

 

 

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