they overarching theme of green is magnificent. and the avoiding of sickness becomes es more apart as you get towards the end. wanting a live green like the grass versus the hospital green.
That's interesting. If I had to choose between poetry and prose, I would choose prose because of the narrative weight your writing has. Look forward to reading more!
I spent a decent amount of time with forbidden grass when I was 19 too. So I really related to this one.
Seriously though. You took me back to a jazz festival I went to at a park in Paris as a 23 year old. My hostel buddies and I had ourselves a nice little french picnic on the grass. Half my face got sunburned.
Thanks for the flashback (despite the sad ending).
If they don’t want people to sneak onto the forbidden grass, they should really try and make it less tempting! Calling it ‘forbidden’ just makes it sound like a challenge. Haha. The ending – I also wanted to emphasise the small and large ways that strangers can heal us, perhaps without ever knowing it <3
Oh yeah. It was great. My apologies if it sounded like I was being critical of the sad ending... I was trying to balance the joy the story gave me sending me down my own memory lane while still acknowledging your piece's narrative. But I worded it poorly.
Really enjoyed this piece (including the sad ending...)
I'm somewhat of an apology addict and the day here is wrapping up and I'm short on my daily apology quota, so I'm afraid you are going to have to let me have this one. Thanks.
“In The Sopranos, "3 o'clock" is a recurring, symbolic phrase originating from a message Christopher Moltisanti delivers to Tony and Paulie from "hell" (via Mikey Palmice) in Season 2, episode 9, "From Where to Eternity". It generally signifies danger, betrayal, or a specific, fatal direction originating from the right side. “
Amazing. The deep deep beauty in this one. I do not wish to reduce the work and tender love in this to a brief comment or a small pink heart. Know that I will carry the story and care of your words and work with me, for a long time, as I wish for my own to be carried. Thank you always for moving me. Judi
The lady praying really holds the weight, rough hands, noticing her consistence and wondering which side of the street to walk on…the grass contrasting as a silly rule, a shine of light through melancholy and how both can exist within us simultaneously. Beautiful work
Dat hat mich sehr behruert. When I was growing up, my paternal grandmother lived with us,. She was the only adult I knew that I was sure loved me. She wasn't affectionate or demonstrative, but reserved and dignified. What mattered was, she always saw me for who I was, and gave me the freedom to be true to myself. That still defines love for me. When she died, I was 19 and far away, and I sometimes feel she fared forth into the next life being owed a great debt by me. Maybe I can repay that simply by giving a taste of my verison of her unclinging brand of love to others.
I have learned to try not to weep for the dead, though. There is a scene from part two of the Old Norse poem "Helgi Hunding's Bane" where Helgi's young widow goes out to the burial mound in the darkness before dawn and meets up with her dead husband's revenant, who is riding back to the mound with his fighting men. She asks why there is frost all over his hair. He says, "This is what you do to me when you weep over my death."
And Deer Girl, I love the eloquence and insight and precision (so typical of your work) of your assertion that "invisibile or exempt or in love" all feel the same when one is young. If I may, I would like to add to that, in the aftermath of Valentine's Day, one of my favorite jokes, so we can at least still laugh, if cry we must:
You know that tingly feeling you get all over when you're falling in love?
Photo: my own, bronze fennel growing wild in the garden.
they overarching theme of green is magnificent. and the avoiding of sickness becomes es more apart as you get towards the end. wanting a live green like the grass versus the hospital green.
Thank you – love this observation! <3
This is really an incredible piece. I like how you tied together these disparate images. Of grass and kneeling on cardboard. Well done.
Thank you very much L! :-)
I really like how your words walk the line between poetry and prose.
Thank you Christian. I always think of my words as prose, but others call them poetry – I think you’re right that they walk that line!
That's interesting. If I had to choose between poetry and prose, I would choose prose because of the narrative weight your writing has. Look forward to reading more!
Fabulous, D.
Love this line: I loved you, but not far enough past the edges of myself.
Thank you J! :-)
I spent a decent amount of time with forbidden grass when I was 19 too. So I really related to this one.
Seriously though. You took me back to a jazz festival I went to at a park in Paris as a 23 year old. My hostel buddies and I had ourselves a nice little french picnic on the grass. Half my face got sunburned.
Thanks for the flashback (despite the sad ending).
If they don’t want people to sneak onto the forbidden grass, they should really try and make it less tempting! Calling it ‘forbidden’ just makes it sound like a challenge. Haha. The ending – I also wanted to emphasise the small and large ways that strangers can heal us, perhaps without ever knowing it <3
Oh yeah. It was great. My apologies if it sounded like I was being critical of the sad ending... I was trying to balance the joy the story gave me sending me down my own memory lane while still acknowledging your piece's narrative. But I worded it poorly.
Really enjoyed this piece (including the sad ending...)
No, not at all – you didn’t sound critical or word it poorly. I just wanted to reassure that the ending wasn’t as sad as it seemed, that was all!
I'm somewhat of an apology addict and the day here is wrapping up and I'm short on my daily apology quota, so I'm afraid you are going to have to let me have this one. Thanks.
Sure, sure, sorry.
“In The Sopranos, "3 o'clock" is a recurring, symbolic phrase originating from a message Christopher Moltisanti delivers to Tony and Paulie from "hell" (via Mikey Palmice) in Season 2, episode 9, "From Where to Eternity". It generally signifies danger, betrayal, or a specific, fatal direction originating from the right side. “
Oh, interesting! I’ve been meaning to watch that for years. Thanks for sharing.
Amazing. The deep deep beauty in this one. I do not wish to reduce the work and tender love in this to a brief comment or a small pink heart. Know that I will carry the story and care of your words and work with me, for a long time, as I wish for my own to be carried. Thank you always for moving me. Judi
Thank you J, know how much I appreciate you <3
You’re welcome H, I am grateful. J
Elegiac love and guilt, from walking past to kneeling.
Love and guilt – yes!
The lady praying really holds the weight, rough hands, noticing her consistence and wondering which side of the street to walk on…the grass contrasting as a silly rule, a shine of light through melancholy and how both can exist within us simultaneously. Beautiful work
Thank you very much Gub 🖤
Dat hat mich sehr behruert. When I was growing up, my paternal grandmother lived with us,. She was the only adult I knew that I was sure loved me. She wasn't affectionate or demonstrative, but reserved and dignified. What mattered was, she always saw me for who I was, and gave me the freedom to be true to myself. That still defines love for me. When she died, I was 19 and far away, and I sometimes feel she fared forth into the next life being owed a great debt by me. Maybe I can repay that simply by giving a taste of my verison of her unclinging brand of love to others.
I have learned to try not to weep for the dead, though. There is a scene from part two of the Old Norse poem "Helgi Hunding's Bane" where Helgi's young widow goes out to the burial mound in the darkness before dawn and meets up with her dead husband's revenant, who is riding back to the mound with his fighting men. She asks why there is frost all over his hair. He says, "This is what you do to me when you weep over my death."
And Deer Girl, I love the eloquence and insight and precision (so typical of your work) of your assertion that "invisibile or exempt or in love" all feel the same when one is young. If I may, I would like to add to that, in the aftermath of Valentine's Day, one of my favorite jokes, so we can at least still laugh, if cry we must:
You know that tingly feeling you get all over when you're falling in love?
Yeah, well, that's your common sense leaving you.
🤣💥🤣
Thank you, there’s so much love in this comment – especially the wisdom of the Old Norse poem and the common sense leaving 🤣🙏🏻
Ah....Paris. 🖤📖👏
🖤🖤🖤
Simple, poetic, stirring....
Thank you Dianne!
Vintage Deer Girl ... I was left both empty and fulfilled.
Vintage Deer Girl – haha, I like that. Thank you :-)
Stunningly beautiful.
Thank you very much Fred! 🖤
In love with this!
Thank you very much Moth! 🖤