[stylist] I too - RE: Hey! a non-rhyming poem from me take 2!

[Robert Leslie Newman]

I too enjoyed that poem! (Rare for me) Good job, Barbara!



-----Original Message-----
From: stylist [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of Lynda Lambert via stylist
Sent: Sunday, July 13, 2014 4:55 PM
To: Jackie Williams; Writer's Division Mailing List
Subject: Re: [stylist] Hey! a non-rhyming poem from me take 2!

Jackie hit it right on - this poem is excellent, Barbara!
I love it.

Lynda McKinney Lambert
Artist, Author, Educator

www.lyndalambert.com
----- Original Message -----
From: "Jackie Williams via stylist" <stylist at nfbnet.org>
To: "'Barbara Hammel'" <poetlori8 at msn.com>; "'Writer's Division Mailing List'" <stylist at nfbnet.org>
Sent: Sunday, July 13, 2014 5:39 PM
Subject: Re: [stylist] Hey! a non-rhyming poem from me take 2!


Barb,
I think your free verse poem is wonderful. My first thought was that you were referring to a Humanistic God what with his feet grounded in the land, but then other interpretations came to mind. Because of your dynamic language, the fact of not knowing exactly did not frustrate me at all.
I think you should no longer have a fear of writing free verse. I think you can be proud of your effort. It will greatly expand your horizons.
I have attached  a very quick reaction to one of my "poem a Day" e-mails that left me without a clue. I thought you might react the same on occasion.
Jackie Lee

Time is the school in which we learn.
Time is the fire in which we burn.
Delmore Schwartz

-----Original Message-----
From: stylist [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of Barbara Hammel via stylist
Sent: Friday, July 11, 2014 8:51 PM
To: stylist at nfbnet.org
Subject: [stylist] Hey! a non-rhyming poem from me take 2!

Okay, let’s see if I can alleviate the suspense about this non-rhyming poem I wrote and tried desperately to show but it kept getting eaten by the ether.
Barbara


  MAJESTY
by Barbara Hammel

You must be Atlas reincarnate.
You're old -- your hair and beard are white.
You stand there holding up the sky,
The weight of it has worn your shoulders bare, Bits of its azure brightness flake off And cascade in streams and falls over your body, Nurturing your robe of evergreen hue.
Sometimes your breath wraps around your head A veil of privacy for a while Hiding your eyes from the man-made things Where your feet are firmly planted.
Some day you, too, will tire of the burden.
You'll shrug, and the shift of weight
Will force your life-blood to pour
In torrents of flowing heat and fire.



Writing free verse is like playing tennis with the net down.--Robert Frost



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