I feel this poem so much. Sometimes we learn harsh truths alongside the important lessons that shape us; actually, that's usually the way of things. There is no even split in the poem: It's the good and the bad all wrapped up together, which is exactly how life presents itself to us. I hope you come away from this year with the brighter memories shining, and the harder facts and observations fading a little bit in the distance.
This is amazing. I had similar feelings when the only bracelet a friend had ever given me broke in a pond, and it was lost to the fish. I hope you start feeling better soon Popcorn. I'm thinking of you.
I love the way you portrayed your message to the reader. I've had a similar feeling before and I could never describe it, but I think I just found out how.
The combination of colors you used is so unusual, but works so well together. I can't stop staring at this, I want to touch it or eat it as if it were candy!
There is such an immense depth to this eye, as if behind it resides a real personality, pain, secrets; I swear I can see it all. My favorite detail is the delicately gathered eyelashes, painted in reddish-brown, not black. Mine are just like that.
Ah, some think "seaside" and think "peaceful," but the ocean is a terrifying place, too: both a place and a being that can gobble you up whole. Without actually personifying the sea by name, you've made it a true character here, given it teeth. Your narrator's distress, with whatever the sea has "taken" from them in the past, is palpable.
I find your words deeply moving. This poem instills a great pride in me, to call Vermont my home, to claim I too am of the roots that extend outward toward a world that one day, we can hope, may know peace. Your wish for a more far-reaching celebration of diversity was an unexpected topic for me, and such a heartwarming thing to read; I suppose I expected to read about Vermont's future in the context of its physical environment, not its social one too. And yet writing from the perspective of an ancient, mighty tree could not be more fitting, more representative of both the land and the people too, somehow. Incredible work, it's obvious the amount of time and effort and HEART that went into this.
There is so much emotion coming through in such a short piece, wow. The opening lines on the phone set the tone for the entire piece exactly right. As the parent (I picture a mother) wanders the daughter's room, every detail orients us inside the very personal space and adds background and color to the relationship between them. My heart just kind of poured out at the end, how could it not, to read about her anguish at her loss but also her acceptance, too, and the hope she has for her daughter's future. This is a truly wholesome hug of a story.
I feel this poem so much. Sometimes we learn harsh truths alongside the important lessons that shape us; actually, that's usually the way of things. There is no even split in the poem: It's the good and the bad all wrapped up together, which is exactly how life presents itself to us. I hope you come away from this year with the brighter memories shining, and the harder facts and observations fading a little bit in the distance.
I would try Insignificant Events in the Life of a Cactus by Dusti Bowling, and Roll With It by Jamie Sumner
This is amazing. I had similar feelings when the only bracelet a friend had ever given me broke in a pond, and it was lost to the fish. I hope you start feeling better soon Popcorn. I'm thinking of you.
I love the way you portrayed your message to the reader. I've had a similar feeling before and I could never describe it, but I think I just found out how.
Thank you! :)
The combination of colors you used is so unusual, but works so well together. I can't stop staring at this, I want to touch it or eat it as if it were candy!
There is such an immense depth to this eye, as if behind it resides a real personality, pain, secrets; I swear I can see it all. My favorite detail is the delicately gathered eyelashes, painted in reddish-brown, not black. Mine are just like that.
Ah, some think "seaside" and think "peaceful," but the ocean is a terrifying place, too: both a place and a being that can gobble you up whole. Without actually personifying the sea by name, you've made it a true character here, given it teeth. Your narrator's distress, with whatever the sea has "taken" from them in the past, is palpable.
I find your words deeply moving. This poem instills a great pride in me, to call Vermont my home, to claim I too am of the roots that extend outward toward a world that one day, we can hope, may know peace. Your wish for a more far-reaching celebration of diversity was an unexpected topic for me, and such a heartwarming thing to read; I suppose I expected to read about Vermont's future in the context of its physical environment, not its social one too. And yet writing from the perspective of an ancient, mighty tree could not be more fitting, more representative of both the land and the people too, somehow. Incredible work, it's obvious the amount of time and effort and HEART that went into this.
There is so much emotion coming through in such a short piece, wow. The opening lines on the phone set the tone for the entire piece exactly right. As the parent (I picture a mother) wanders the daughter's room, every detail orients us inside the very personal space and adds background and color to the relationship between them. My heart just kind of poured out at the end, how could it not, to read about her anguish at her loss but also her acceptance, too, and the hope she has for her daughter's future. This is a truly wholesome hug of a story.