jim

2026-09-04
Intriguing, the images forming something from something else, like the wood being turned from one thing to another.

2026-09-04
It must be a bittersweet feeling for you, going home to an empty house. I hope the experience fills your heart with fond memories.

2026-09-04
Thank you, Nils. You never fail to create a calming influence on me. It's something I truly appreciate.

2026-09-04
i feel it, too. Looking at the poems from the very early days of poetbay creates a sense of nostalgia for something I never knew and missed. Though, having said that, I joined in 2015 and it was a rich, supporting and lively community.

It still is. Just . . . different, there are so few young people. I guess other forms of social media have more appeal.

I cherish this place, and people on it. That never changes.

2026-09-03
First a poem of uprooting, then one of what has been lost.

I appreciate these two poem very much.

2026-09-03
Poems of home are inherently meaningful. Uprooting yourself is what I did—and I know why, but the word "home" evokes strong feelings place, One place. One street. One house.

2026-09-03
I find this wonderfully insightful, causing me to look at my writing in the light of your thoughts.

2026-09-01
A tale of innocence (or is it faith and hope) lost, inevitable and irrevocable.

All the sad young boys.

2026-09-01
Ok, there's some mystery here Rik. Rick. Griff!

Some people have all the luck.

Great, great poem.

2026-09-01
No need to reply.

Ever since we "met" on poetbay I've thought of you and remembered your poems and friendship.

I wish you all that you need to find you way back to health.

jim

2026-08-29
This is such a complete poem that it speaks for itself. There's nothing I can say, all is within the poem.

2026-08-29
Ok, this is going to be a stretch, but here goes. This poem brought to mind Vincent Van Gogh's orchard paintings for being ethereal and real at the same time. The words swirled to form images greater than the sum of its parts. That as close as I can come to putting into words the feelings evoked. Though, I could write an essay on your poem and Van Gogh.

2026-08-27
This is too cynical. Please don't assume no one cares. Since getting to know you and Bibek Nepal has become real to me, not just a distant place on a map. The contribution I made today may have been small, but it came from the heart. I am sure I am not alone in caring, the will to be generous is strong. My thoughts go out to those in need.

Having said that, I understand the cynicism. It, too, came from the heart.

2026-08-26
I think noir, and frightening. I think tragedy.

I don't know what to think, but i like the poem for all its mystery. Not everything needs to be knowable.

2026-08-25
It's frightening. Everything depends on the dice.

2026-08-25
I like reading without trying to suss out the meaning. The meaning comes or it doesn't, or it comes in a way unique to the reader, in ways you couldn't imagine, just as I cannot truly imagine what you're seeing and feeling as you wrote this.

I found it liberating to read in this way, freely.

2026-08-25
Makes sense to me. A day is what, a collection of moments, thoughts, images, sense & nonsense. Your words convey that very well—pike and clock and sock right down to the flocks.

As for the details, what means what, we each see your images in our own light, and that makes this poem very real to me.

2026-08-25
The concept, from my northern hemisphere point of view, of an August wind foretelling the end of winter, is totally disorienting. Once I turned my world upside down everything fell into place, the seasons changing and what that means and what it heralds.

I thoroughly enjoyed this, it's magical, the second stanza is a poem within a poem.

2026-08-25
Allen, I've read this many times since you posted. The images are amazing. i cannot grasp the whole of the poem, every time I read it I see it slightly differently. But dreams and poems about dreams and the dream-state are elusive by nature, so maybe the way I'm reading it is fine, the shape-shifting eludes my grasp. So be it.

2026-08-25
You write your lines so well, they flow naturally, the rhymes unforced—yet the tone of the poem is very forceful. It's a good combination: form and content compliment each other.

It is a strange cultural phenomena, celebrity children and their parents. I hope some of those children are doing it because they choose to do it. One can hope.

2026-08-23
Your poem brought a smile to my (rather dour) face. Thank you!

2026-08-23
A beautiful poem, thank you for sharing.

2026-08-21
My thoughts are with you.

2026-08-21
I envision this with Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward, very cinematic.

There's truth to it, the fade-out into one big THE END.

2026-08-21
It sounds like the perfect way to spend your evening.

2026-08-20
This is lovely, I'm touched by the gentleness and understanding of your words.

2026-08-20
There's a word coined in the 1990's: polycrisis. Here's wikipedia's summation:

"A polycrisis is a situation where multiple distinct crises—such as economic instability, climate change, geopolitical conflict, and public health emergencies—occur at the same time. These separate problems interact and feed into each other, making the final combined damage much worse than the sum of each individual problem."

We live a time of polycrisis, and "The Great Destruction" seems more than apt.

2026-08-17
I think about silence a lot, and wonder if silence, true silence, would be a blessing or a curse.

We'll never know.

2026-08-15
I hear you, longing for what's coming: cooler, warmer, wetter, dryer—happier; not enjoying the moment, the moments drag, the moments fly by. So true.

Though, sometimes the moments are sublime.

2026-08-14
So good!

Thank you for your exploration in rhyme of Western thought in the cereal aisle. You have me thinking and smiling. The writing is so subtle and fun, I love it.

2026-08-12
Minimalism is a beautiful way of approaching poetry. Find the essence of what you intent to say, whittle away whatever is extraneous, and create something as fine as "between us".

Mr. Rockda and I were talking about this very thing yesterday.

jim

2026-08-11
This brings to mind a word I'm not sure I've ever used before: pithy,

"a statement or speech style that is short, direct, and full of deep meaning or substance."

Exactly what this is.

2026-08-11
This sounds like a random act of kindness, the kind of quiet interchange between two people, humans displaying the best side of humanity—kindness

"tiny agreements
that the world still
answers
in small increments."

2026-08-07
I was going to say it's lucky to have such friends, but it isn't luck, is it? It's cultivating those friendships, which isn't always easy. It's as much about giving as receiving.

I say this for myself as well as in response to your poem.

2026-08-07
I see this cinematically, in black and white, except for the Spangles. I see it play out until:

"Are we nearly there yet?"

Then, fade out . . . and, cut!

2026-08-07
in a nutshell? . . .
nurture your garden
it will nurture you.

2026-08-05
So very happy to read your words again. You've been missed.

2026-08-04
I feel the same way about poetry, it must happen, vital as the sun on overcast day.

You have a magical way with words, and kindness. The two go together beautifully.

2026-08-04
Brevity belies depth, this is beautiful in the most bittersweet way.

2026-08-04
I have no words, just a feeling of love and compassion for your and yours.

2026-08-04
There is no incentive to equalize the disparity. Wealth buys votes. Change is stifled at the top.

Ironically, and sadly, those most effected vote against their own interests all too often.

That can change.

2026-08-04
This is s beautiful tribute, absolutely lovely. The whole poem captivated me, these two lines seems to touch the essence of it.

'Witness to gentleness and intimacy
Writing its story with each caress'

2026-08-04
Optimism is preciously rare these days, but very much welcome.

2026-08-03
Thisl, and 'The Cove of the Unremembered', are tales (or realities) that light the way for others as mentor and protector.

They are romantic and lonely poems, poems of sacrifice. So it seems to me.

2026-08-03
Living inland as I do, I find poems of the sea and shore romantic and mysterious, a world I find very hard to imagine, because without the sound of waves, and the gulls, and all the things that touch the senses it is unimaginable. Your poem provides all I need to see it.

Though, it is still mysterious.

2026-08-02
A riddle? I see black and red in the shade.

2026-08-02
Or perhaps a knight, but the metaphor works for any seeker of independence I think.

2026-08-01
Lovely! It's rich, the words flow down the page naturally, it's a pleasure to read, and reread.

I see face on a wall, a photograph, with others like her. Whether or not that's the reality, I think the fondness for her is the point, not the details.

Thank you for sharing.

2026-07-30
This resonates with me, in particular

"In a society where “Made It”
Defines an abysmal view of greatness
That sucks all humanity into a vacuum

That lacks qualities of a teachers
Text of forgiveness, care and wisdom
Of all our peers that excludes no one"

~

That say so much, and means so much. Is truth.

2026-07-30
You and arquious both wrote about footsteps, "The shallow trench of your stride." Both about longing & reaching out for someone who isn't there.

"Some Days", yep.