|
By Katanga
|
|
05 October 2008 |
Hmmmmm! I write amongst rubble . . .
I really loved my uncle . . .
Cheers!
John X
Uncle Robin
My Uncle Robin never said goodbye -
he only ever said a bright hello,
until he gave up all pretence, and I
just wished him well to where his soul would go.
My Uncle Robin loved me so, and how
I miss him, more than these poor words can tell,
when all my heart is with him, gone, yet now
I talk to him and feel his heart would swell
with knowing he is with me as I write
about our kinship - never mind the pain.
It doesn't matter every line is trite -
but maybe, one day, I'll see him again.
Dear Uncle, can I ask of you one thing?
Will song-birds nest amongst us in the spring?|
Written by Bottleblondesurfer (3590 comments posted) 5th October 2008 | I notice you mention trite in the poem, I suppose it depends how you define trite. Even if it was, there is a place for it. Honest emotion can often come across as trite but I admire you for not trying to dress it up with overly "poetic" phrases and expressions to give it more literary credibility. This is direct and heartfelt, and is something we can all identify with [the more so because of it's simplicity] I also admire you for posting it up. I wrote a poem about my loss but would be mortified at the though of poets here reading it. So good for you; trite or not it was worth the saying
cheers
jane | Jane, thank you!
Written by Katanga (1537 comments posted) 5th October 2008 | What a lovely review!
You understand me, and that's what counts!
John XXX | And Jane . . .
Written by Katanga (1537 comments posted) 5th October 2008 | . . . why not post your own?
I, for one, would welcome it!
You can't lose, as long as you're reasonably thick-skinned!
Yo ho!
John again X |
Written by Josie (2847 comments posted) 5th October 2008 | | John, I can't call your poem "trite" in any way. I loved it. I liked the last two lines for you indicate that you feel he is not far away from you and will be sharing the spring and the nesting birds with you. My mother was the eldest of seven girls in her family. I had six adoring aunts who have all died. Now I feel familyless, but then when I see two little grandchildren grinning at me and playing tricks on me, then I don't. It would be a nice thought to think we might meet up again, but do enemies meet again also? That's the question. |
Written by grace (173 comments posted) 6th October 2008 | This is incredibly moving John.
Your words have a touching simplicity that convey how precious was every moment spent with your Uncle, whether mundane or special occasion. He would indeed be so proud to read your words and know how much he meant to you. . .Let's hope he does.
Beautifully written straight from the heart,
my sincere condolences,
Pamx |
Written by Brett (1001 comments posted) 6th October 2008 | An honest sonnet, John - not cheap in its sentiment, nor trite.
'until he gave up all pretence...' I think is the strongest line.
Cheers |
Written by Phil (6997 comments posted) 6th October 2008 | With Brett - until he gave up all pretence is the strongest line.
The thing about writing from he heart is - only the words that are in there will do the job properly. (Now that probably does sound trite) I don't suppose you set out writing this with much more in mind than communicating honest emotions - and it does that effectively in a well formed structure.
Easier to bare your backside than your soul - so respect too.
I liked it.
Phil
| Nothing . . .
Written by Katanga (1537 comments posted) 6th October 2008 | . . . in mind - all in heart.
Thank you, Jane, Josie , Pam, Brett and Phil.
You guys keep me at it, for better or for worse!
Yo ho!
John XXX |
Only registered users can rate and write comments.
Please login or register. Powered by AkoComment 2.0! |
