PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I woke in the middle of the: I woke in the middle of the night to find that this poem has posted; and as I have said for a couple of years now, a poem posted by Patricia is an event.  This poem embodies that excitement.  The supple slenderness of her brief lines reveals a profound depth of meaning that fully blossoms toward the conclusion of the poem. Her poems are, primarily, poems of process.  They are choreographies of those processes which, in her Poetry, normally take place on a cosmic scale or stage.  If she writes about a flower blooming in some meadow, you can assume that there is also, in some part of the galaxy, a star emerging from a nebula and igniting unto light and warmth.  Her metaphors and similes are very dramatic, and the crows like priests that do not know what vows are, is downright comical.  But whatever effect is rendered by her poetic devices, they are all carefully and skillfully directed to the same end:  to describe the connectedness of all aspects of existing in a community of all things that exist.  The blooming flower in a meadow on earth shares a fellowship with the newly emerged and glowing star.  Whiile this is Poetry, and no one can dispute that fact, it is also a fully functional Cosmology (but without all the tedious mathematical equations; one need not have studied Calculus to understand her Poetry). Like Wallace Stevens' Poetry, Patricia's has a deliberate center of gravity which is usually deep within the poem, and in this particular poem it is in the final eight lines.  Here she shows us the connectedness or community of all existence:  everything has to do with everything everywhere.  This is a cosmologically credal statement---as self-evident as any of Euclid's axioms, but even more essential.  The connectedness of all things is axiomatic because all things were created by God, the name of Whom was revealed to Apostle John (chosen appropriately from among them all) as Love.  And Love has given the task of explication to certain Poets . . . not every Poet, but only a chosen few, among whom is Patriciajj.

Thank you so much for your: Thank you so much for your kind words, and for visiting my YouTube channel, they are so appreciated. Not getting many views on YouTube sadly. Here is my poem to you, that has sprung from your beautiful compliment.   In whispered tones so softly sent, A compliment as heavens’ scent, Where words, like dew on morning's bloom, Illuminate the subtlest gloom.   O blesséd speech that thus imparts A summer's warmth to winter hearts! Thy gracious air, with charm replete, Makes every echoed pulse so sweet... 

I love how your variety of: I love how your variety of settings is as boundless as your imagination: here you set the stage in a museum where only the works of great masters are displayed, and here, enshrined on canvas and playing many parts (not unlike the figures in your plethora of poetic depictions), is the epitome of inner and outer beauty, gentle dignity, self-assured elegance and earthy playfulness right down to the unshod feet.   With a stroke of brilliance, you found a way to make your character so electrifying and, well, real, that he almost jumped off the canvas (as he, in many costumes and roles, jumps off the screen in your poems) :   ". . . The paintings sometimes seemed to move, being full of the most provocative vivacity."   Your subtle handling of eroticism erupts with far more power than explicit "telling" could ever do.   As in many of your Ad Astra poems, venomous, irrational judgement from society slithers on the fringes, but never manages to defile what is, in its essence, sacred and pure, because, what else can love be?   Love, being one of the many names of God.   And here's where we get to the lasting impact, the legacy, the intention of this series. In an age of censorship when neo-fascists want to erase an entire subculture (or anyone that doesn't look or think like them), you make the marginalized and too often silenced shine in their own resplendent truth. In your deft and compassionate hands, you make them feel seen.   As I glided through your supple, fine-crafted and stirring story (the pacing is always perfection) I was delighted by your cunning reveal: the old man was the model! Bravo!   Then you ended on such a heart-clutching note that I'm still impacted as I write this. Like all great poetry, one still feels it long after the last line is read.   Another success. 

Oscar Wilde, Moliere,: Oscar Wilde, Moliere, Appolonaire, Edith Piaf, Balzac, Gertrude Stein, Collette, Paul Eluard, Delacroix, Camille Pissarro, Victor Hugo, Marcel Duchamp and many others are also buried at Pere Lachaise.  It is an interesting and solemn way to pass a couple hours if you ever find yourself idling in Paris and need something to do.

thank you for reading and: thank you for reading and commenting.  The crazies do make life more interesting

powerful!: powerful!