The poems were lovely, especially as someone whose's as well spent many a strange hours on muni (if I've got that city correct, perhaps our paths have even crossed,) but I must say, the personal touch at the end was quite good in its pain, its relatability, in its hope. Well done.
Your patience for the process of writing is honorable. To reverence the words as a gift wrought from faithful practice-- that's a rare quality. And the reason why your poems are so Good. Thank you for them.
You're so kind, Ann. My patience is far from perfect -- I have a grade-A worrier living right under my skin. But she and I have agreed that practicing at being patient, at least, is honorable.
I aspire to Good with a capital G! Thank you for the generous accolade, and for reading so faithfully.
Thank you, I love both of these poems. Your bus ride adventure where you simply got on and kept going sounds awesome! I would love to do that. I live in a tiny town and we have one itsy-bitsy bus that drives folks to surrounding towns so I can't get the same kind of ride. I am always thrilled when I'm in the city and can take public transport! The people! The neighborhoods!
How wonderful you are getting into your groove as the poems keep coming. Hopefully by publishing here on Substack the Muse is entertained enough to keep showing up for you.
Thanks so much, Donna. Wishing you many creative adventures in your own tiny town!
I started my Substack after a few months of regular writing practice, and it's been an amazing boost for me and the Muse. Writing is its own joy, being read is another; to be able to connect the two without having to wade through the crowded, competitive trad-publishing process is outright bliss. Grateful, grateful, grateful.
A lot of great stuff everywhere; glaring at the son of a bitch in the window (what a hoot), the ever present jacket from early manhood, that 'very scarlet curtain', the fears of never seeing or feeling that creative visit and the gratitude for all of it. thanks.
The first poem describes a man who is living a solitary life on the streets. (My take)Your descriptors
give us an eye into his existence: “the frown digs resting lines deeper"…
“Jeans and battered jacket are what he has worn like skin…”
I can just visualize him walking away under that blanket of fog.
Chef-d’oeurave!
Your second poem had me (to use your word) enthralled!
It just made me want to get on a bus and ride off to parts unknown!
Looocinda Loo, I just now saw your note on this post! Thank you for being the attentive. appreciative reader you always are.
Wow! What a wonderful description, in the second poem, of a feeling so familiar yet so difficult to put your finger on!
Thanks, Sydney! So glad you came by to read the poems. (Thanks for subscribing as well!)
Love the way the second poem ends!
except that the curtain was so very scarlet
next to the curved chair-back, against the old white wall...
The suchness of things ...!
Thank you for reading and commenting, Brian.
The poems were lovely, especially as someone whose's as well spent many a strange hours on muni (if I've got that city correct, perhaps our paths have even crossed,) but I must say, the personal touch at the end was quite good in its pain, its relatability, in its hope. Well done.
Happy that you enjoyed both the poems and the prose, HONP. Thanks for coming by for a read.
Your patience for the process of writing is honorable. To reverence the words as a gift wrought from faithful practice-- that's a rare quality. And the reason why your poems are so Good. Thank you for them.
You're so kind, Ann. My patience is far from perfect -- I have a grade-A worrier living right under my skin. But she and I have agreed that practicing at being patient, at least, is honorable.
I aspire to Good with a capital G! Thank you for the generous accolade, and for reading so faithfully.
Beautiful words.
Thank you so much for reading! I'm glad you enjoyed them.
Your bus poems are my favorites.
Auntie B
Thank goodness we get to ride the bus so often! Thanks for reading, Barb.
Thank you, I love both of these poems. Your bus ride adventure where you simply got on and kept going sounds awesome! I would love to do that. I live in a tiny town and we have one itsy-bitsy bus that drives folks to surrounding towns so I can't get the same kind of ride. I am always thrilled when I'm in the city and can take public transport! The people! The neighborhoods!
How wonderful you are getting into your groove as the poems keep coming. Hopefully by publishing here on Substack the Muse is entertained enough to keep showing up for you.
Thanks so much, Donna. Wishing you many creative adventures in your own tiny town!
I started my Substack after a few months of regular writing practice, and it's been an amazing boost for me and the Muse. Writing is its own joy, being read is another; to be able to connect the two without having to wade through the crowded, competitive trad-publishing process is outright bliss. Grateful, grateful, grateful.
*can’t get on a bus without writing a poem*
ngl it feels like that some days!!!! :-)
Thank you!
So glad you enjoyed the poems, Shari!
A lot of great stuff everywhere; glaring at the son of a bitch in the window (what a hoot), the ever present jacket from early manhood, that 'very scarlet curtain', the fears of never seeing or feeling that creative visit and the gratitude for all of it. thanks.
Thank you for such a detailed reading, Weston.