Of Sticks and Stones . . . and Books (Free Verse)

thanks for sharing..

draws air of leather lounge
and coffee..
Loved that, Jim.
This piece is wonderful, but did remind me to sometimes lay the book down and and let myself be windblown.

Excellent as always....thanks for sharing!

Makes me smile, not sure why... ;-)

You're welcome, Larry.

I agree, Debbie; a good run will keep the images alive.

My pleasure, Stephanie; thank you for the compliment.

I'm honored, Amy. Thank you so much.

Hey, d m.--as long as you're smiling, I'm happy. Thank you.

Delightful, Jim!

Thank you, Cecile; glad you enjoyed it.

hey thanks for sharing with with us

Hi, Carol; my pleasure to be sure. Thank you for a nice comment. :-)

Exellent, Jim. The wonders of the places a good book can take us. You can travel the world and never miss your morning coffee.

Perhaps that's one of the things reading does for us, Dawn, help us anticipate the physical effects that await us when we open our front door. Thank you for your compliment and coffee-satisfying comment.

LOL Sorry, Jim. I should never try to type at 2am. It should read "Excellent."

Well, it's an idea, anyway. Thanks, Dawn.

Of Sticks and Stones . . . and Books, is another Rossian slight of hand. In one way this is an irregularity in Jim Ross's more common positive celebration of life as a naturalist and poet.
But here, with Juju like magic over the verb, Ross conjures mystic interfaces of the visual and the kinesthetic when he opens with, "Nor is sweat produced from relentless rays / On vistas, bluish-white-- / Neither will they make you squint.",
and again with, "Nor is sweat produced from relentless rays / On vistas, bluish-white-- Neither will they make you squint."

Midway, we are exposed in the development of Jim's photographic language to a reminiscent acquiescence to death's nothingness in the negative with, "Neither is the gleeful child chilled
As her bare, blue hands thrust snowballs
Skyward to ruthlessly fly . . . "

Then, with Rossian consistency, we are treated with a turnabout in the face of grief's void with a karmic view of eternal justice – we find we have been tricked again as we find comfort with "Draw(s) air of leather lounge", as we relax in our fate amidst auditory celebration, "And sounds of crackling embers / From the radiating fire, nearby; / For all, we all know, / Will be righted in "The End".

Brilliant, and one of my favorites Jim. Thank you for the wonderfullysublime treat.

Zing-Zang…Kapow!

Jim ~ This poem reads in the eyes like a musical medley plays to the ears. I think I just re-read a dozen or more books without leaving your poem (or missing my coffee...lol) Great verse!

Hi, Douglas--Thank you for the tribute; your review gladdened my heart. It's so nice to learn that one's words do more than merely populate paper.

Hi, DragonSoul. Your compliment brightens my morning and sends me to the keyboard with hopeful pursuit. Thank you so much.

Is that the swoosh when you sit in a leather chair?

Very nice poem, Jim.

It could be, Barbary, but since it comes during the read, I picture it more as the aromatic ambience of tanned leather. Thank you.

Thank you so much for sharing this! It's always a nice thing to read a poem and know just how the author feels, to really relate to it. All to often poetry is obscure, must be puzzled out, or can be understood only with intimate knowledge of the poet. Unfortunately that's what's made poetry so inaccessible to recent generations; they just dont feel connected to it.

This poem, however, appeals to any and everyone who ever sat cuddled up in a favorite spot, voraciously devouring their exciting new story and afraid to put it down before the end for fear that they should harm their new friends by not getting fast enough to that "happily ever after".

Thank you for that, Emily. It is indeed my goal to write accessible poetry, accessible with a passion for story and image that will leave a reader satisfied that the moments spent with the words are worthwhile. I realize I don't always achieve my goal, but I assure you it is the bedrock of this author's intent. I appreciate your very kind appraisal; as you can see, you have reminded me why I write the way I do. Thank you again for that.

Melodic excellence. It's like an unfolding story book of images. I love everything about this poem except the last line. It seemed rather harsh to use the word 'Will' to close out this splendid scene.

Hi, William--I'm glad you like it, and I truly appreciate the critique--they always make me revisit my work and study the choices made. The obvious alternative to "will be", of course, is "is"; I clung to the former choice to give the reader a sense of something yet unfinished, but waiting on the "last page". Ie., something to look forward to.

I'm new here and anxiously looking forward to devouring more of your verse, Jim. This one made me remember why it was I longed to be a poet in my younger days. Perhaps it's not too late...

It's never too late, Jodi. May your passion for poetry be requited multifold. Thank you for a wonderful compliment.

You write a good poem and this is one of your best I think.

Thank you for the compliment, Terry. I appreciate it very much.