Awesome story! One of my writerly quirks is loving reading about where other folks are from! I had a pen pal from the Philippines, when I was a kid. Lost touch around the time I was heading to college. She was from - shoot, can't remember other than it started with a B. Near Manilla, I think. I'm using this piece in this week's For Authors editorial picks!~fyn
Oh my!!! I remember picking up my mom at her 50th reunion. She introduced me to several of the gentlemen sitting next to her at the bar. Names that struck a memory bell. One, then an almost retired criminal attorney, was the 'class clown.' Another was voted the 'least likely to ever be anything.' He's the mayor of his city. Well spoken, dapper, and slightly drunk. The captain of the football team was now paunchy, bald, and the one who once told my mom that she 'wasn't pretty enough to date.' They were all sitting there and having a ball yacking.
Using this in this week's For Authors Newsletter! ~fyn
Yes, that indeed she is! Such a moment when the Berlin Wall came down. I'll always remember standing on the one side and hearing a rifle shot as a small bag was flung over from the other side...
Not sure exactly 'what' this is the beginning of, but be sure, I want more. I love how your writing is like three steps slideways from what anyone might expect. It just inexorably yanks you in and flat out refuses to let go!!! Yay you!
These three parts of longer sentences absolutely are just so, so fine! They open entire worlds!
--a caged leviathan digesting ambition and fear.
-- the detached precision of an archivist cataloging extinction
--A silent scream trapped in glass.
Whew! Using this in this week's For Authors Newsie! ~fyn
Hey there, my seemingly to have vanished friend that I can still SEE!
Consider this a very large
PUSH!
I'm using this in this week's For Authors Newsletter. As usual, you have written this so well. I wish you had the time (?) or inclination(?) to write more stuff!!!
Fyn here to fulfil your review request. !st read through gave me one true pause which I'll get to in a second.
Little-things wise-- Natures beauty his inspiration-->> Nature's Commanded by its humble form-->> by whose humble form? Nature's? The canvas? If the canvas then the painter's commanded. Might need some clarification because ambiguity does not work well here. A sketch revealed in charcoals wake--> charcoal's
The true pause--not sure if it is 'my' perspective or ... but the line With brush in hand he tells his Lies stopped me cold. Not in a good way. Is not the artist painting their truth? Their vision? Kind of like saying that all fiction is nothing more than a pack of lies. Which, given the rest of the poem, sits at odds with the methods, processes, thinking, and care the writer put into the ways of describing painting. To have it be a 'L' vs 'l', makes more of a case for art being nothing, worthless. I don't 'think' this is your intention. (?) Followed later by That humble calling we call art. again negates it.
On the positive side-- I really liked the ideas and images in
With every stroke the subject bends
Like time itself it never ends Excellent!!!
Had I just happened upon this piece, I expect, hitting the 'Lie' line, I'd have clicked away. You asked for a review so I'm being (perhaps) brutally honest. If you choose to do some revisions on this, email me and I'll rerate.
This reminds me of something I wrote years and years ago---
(cut paste) Overhead the Canada geese were shaftless arrows
shot from some instinctual bow
piercing the morning sky
with their raucous goodbyes. Your poem put me back in those moments! Thank you!
And he can write poetry as well. Why am I not the least surprised, ridiculously happy, and bowled over as well. This is what I would term 'an important piece of poetry.' And this to erupt when buried in pre-finals studying. Seriously well crafted. ~fyn
Annnnd...he does it again. Surfaces from resistors and transmogrified wires to write this. I love the way your perspectives see so differently, how you see to describe things the perfect way beyond what most might see. How one thing becomes several, completely different, and yet, and yet interwoven, intertangled as to make points abundantly clear and focused, especially in a character who may be merely rain or, perhaps, so much more. Kudos!
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