The Tangled Branch Discussion Forums

I then read Colm's response. And also didn't read the essay.

The title combines the plausible domestic event with an implausible SF or magic realist suggestion, which brings in whatever suggestions Neptune has (to me calm, blue, peaceful and sea-gods, which gets picked up later in the poem) The poem jumps into a view that feels to me like a drive along a free...

Sure enough In 1961, after a failed Bay of Pigs invasion, the United States moved American Jupiter ballistic missiles into Italy and Turkey. This put American missiles within range of Moscow. In response, the Soviets sent nuclear warheads to Cuba. ... The presence of Jupiter missiles affected Turkey...

. Presque vu Strange, how the Cuban missile crisis started as a Turkish missile crisis.   I added the title back into the quote as without it the poem doesn't work. I know absolutely nothing about the Turkish missile crisis, so the poem causes me to look out for that and to learn what that was abou...

Colm Roe wrote: ↑

Sun Jan 23, 2022 11:37 am

Hi and welcome, bruise.
Two very different funerals, both well explored. I especially like 'engulfed by a secular fire'.
An excellent first poem, and I'm looking forward to reading many more.

Thank you for the welcome and the response. Very much appreciated.

Wonderful writing.  I found these sections to be well-written and emotional. Not like, emotional writing, but text which induces the reader to share the emotions.  This is not easy to do, and you didn't take this over the top, as is so easy to do. Thank you. I was trying to leave a lot to the reade...

Critically, I'm not convinced the title lives up to the more delicate writing in either singular or communal form. I'm guessing a quick re-titling for the post here? Not a re-titling to post here, but probably not enough consideration of titles. Your comment caused me to add an -s! Funeral Fires I ...

Thank you so much for taking the time to read, and read so carefully and thoughtfully. Thank you for the welcome.

Lots to think about, thank you.

I remember black flowers, a low-slung coffin and priestly incantations. I stared at my boots as they buried their girl, killed in a car crash. Sent by school, I stood awkwardly between the Head and the driver - neither family, nor believers – three aliens. I watched the fisted handfuls of dirt and g...

Would I wash the car if I sipped time, instead of gulping most of it  in surreal gorges that plummet  untasted, forgotten, wasted, or just recorded by ennui's blank expression.  Too late, Dali has softened my clocks. Gladys gets cremated tomorrow, time for time to melt and harden. Time to wear a su...