The Tangled Branch Discussion Forums

Nostalgia Driving south on College Boulevard, Mystic Hill, which is an ancient volcano, stands alone on the left, the street curves right to run along the creek released from Calavera Reservoir-- I know this place from before, an earlier life I think-- seeing it again makes me inexplicably happy as...

I have been asked to introduce myself here. Apologize, thought I had been doing that in the poetry posts.

My name is George, even though it shows up as Binx on the screen because of my email. Sorry for the confusion.  

Enjoyed this George. Inventive (especially L4). The line break in L5 rather snaps the line, though I presume the intention was to reflect the sense of 'half'. If the latter, the device feels contrived in such a heart-felt write. best Phil Daughter I never had, tugging my arm-sleeve  hanging heavy a...

Tracy Mitchell wrote: ↑

Fri Mar 15, 2019 3:53 pm

This is wonderful, George. Beautiful.

T

Thank you, Tracy.

by George

Good poem, George. You have made this personal, intimate. Consider this and see what you think: Through the bedroom window, a A layer of new snow veils the field. Let me know if you want me to argue the change Thanks for posting. T Thank you, Tracy. Life is short. I only argue about important thing...

It has taken quite a few reads to really enter into the world of the poem but i am getting there. Is there any advantage poetically to calling a sleeve an arm- sleeve, which i admit is an expression i have never heard. Am glad you entered, Dave. Stay awhile.   Arm-sleeve is more common than you thi...

indar wrote: ↑

Thu Mar 14, 2019 9:49 am

Oh Binx,

what a beautiful poem--all I can say is: I love it.

Call me GEORGE, Indar.  Thank you. 

 

tips and rocks  on lily pad tiled water: green circles float succulent centers visited by nectar seekers that flew out from shore dizzy with sugar and sun sparkles. Emerald spires distant, dark and cool against burning blue, hovered over by hot-air-balloons blooming pastel in rising air. Written wi...

Daughter I never had,
tugging my arm-sleeve 
hanging heavy as an anchor
rooted to the tip of my tongue. 

I toss restlessly in half
sleep, a boat captain
throwing a lifeline, towing
you gently through my dreams.


by George

Rex Harrison a bit mis-cast, but I was young and didn't care.  

by George