The woman at the well draws water for her child, dreams of a husband taken by war The child waits for water drawn from the well, dreams of the cat curled in her apron The cat curled in the apron dreams of colors, but none of them are mine.
Paul, I prefer Dave due to a misguided attempt by the Philistines in Florida To ban books and Works of Art that they disapprove of. I also feel that I must warn you that my favorite Sport is Persiflage. I am a Black Belt Practitioner in that Discipline but have no Fear. I am a Professional and no Harm shall befall you.
Who are we hearing other than the voice of the man who has left, the young husband, the father of the thirsty child? The man’s soul standing in the doorway, dreaming of their random, longing wishes, and those that were his own.
“The cat curled in the apron dreams of colors, but none of them are mine. I want to hear…”
In music, one would call this a “bridge.” so, if it has a name and poetry, I’m not aware of it. But it strikes me as a very, very, beautiful transition. This is a wonderful piece of work.
Thank you, Sea. I guess it could be called a bridge, of sorts, or a transition out of one set of dreams into another. It definitely feels like a movement through one thing to another.
I hope so, Stan. I don’t spend much time on intentionality when I write; when I say “intentionality” I mean in the sense of sitting down with the intention of writing about a specific subject, like, “Let’s write a love poem,” or “let’s write a poem using the idea of birds as a metaphor for freedom.” Whatever I end up with is what I intend the poem to be, but that does not mean that the piece does not provide what one might call jumping off points that allow for different thoughts or ideas or interpretations, some that I might not even be aware of. Layered is a good word. Thanks!
And Thank you, Sea, for restacking-Much appreciated!
Love Eternal cannot be denied.
Always true, David!
Paul, I prefer Dave due to a misguided attempt by the Philistines in Florida To ban books and Works of Art that they disapprove of. I also feel that I must warn you that my favorite Sport is Persiflage. I am a Black Belt Practitioner in that Discipline but have no Fear. I am a Professional and no Harm shall befall you.
Thanks, Dave.
Who are we hearing other than the voice of the man who has left, the young husband, the father of the thirsty child? The man’s soul standing in the doorway, dreaming of their random, longing wishes, and those that were his own.
Who else is there, indeed? Wonderful insight, Patris.
My grandmother was a young widow of a man who died at war.
I was named for another Paul, a U.S. pilot lost over Corregidor during WWII.
I like to hope they get to come back and live good, long lives.
I like to think that eventually we all will.
Me too
“The cat curled in the apron dreams of colors, but none of them are mine. I want to hear…”
In music, one would call this a “bridge.” so, if it has a name and poetry, I’m not aware of it. But it strikes me as a very, very, beautiful transition. This is a wonderful piece of work.
Thank you, Sea. I guess it could be called a bridge, of sorts, or a transition out of one set of dreams into another. It definitely feels like a movement through one thing to another.
"The woman at the well... dreams of a husband taken by war" powerful!
Thanks, M.M.
Beautiful chain of thoughts in this one.
Thank you, Arjan.
So tender, so sad, so sweet - thank you Paul!
Excellent. It seems to me the last stanza is talking about prayers and their answers.
I think it can be read that way, Stan.
Your stuff is so layered there are multiple ways.
I hope so, Stan. I don’t spend much time on intentionality when I write; when I say “intentionality” I mean in the sense of sitting down with the intention of writing about a specific subject, like, “Let’s write a love poem,” or “let’s write a poem using the idea of birds as a metaphor for freedom.” Whatever I end up with is what I intend the poem to be, but that does not mean that the piece does not provide what one might call jumping off points that allow for different thoughts or ideas or interpretations, some that I might not even be aware of. Layered is a good word. Thanks!
That’s kinda like me I just write, I really don’t know enough about what I’m doing to intentionally “plan” it out.
Beautiful. 🙌🏼