Oh Paul, how disheartening this world has been, through wars and all the suffering. We have lived through quite a few wars, but sometimes now, I wonder how close we are to the end. Let’s celebrate each day, and savor every bite and sip, every breath, every sunrise and sunset, every conversation and hug. Life is but to live, so let’s embrace it wholeheartedly with passion! Thank you for writing this, it reminded me of Burkowski. Did I spell his last name wrong? 😇❤️
Good Saturday, Jo-Ann. Thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts on this piece. Life wouldn't be life without a few bumps on the way. I think Bukowski knew that!
Thanks, Gary. If I remember correctly, this was written during the last week of March and early April. I don’t recall the impetus for writing it, though, but it grew sort of organically over those days.
This feels less like a poem and more like a prophetic vision unfolding through images. I was especially struck by the tension between tenderness and devastation—the same voice that longs to feed with words of grace also wants to become the burning building itself. That movement gives the poem its unsettling power. It doesn't offer easy answers; it compels the reader to remain inside the fire long enough to ask what still deserves to be saved. Thank you for sharing such an uncompromising piece.
I feel your rage here, Paul. I love the longer stanzas and how they increase in anger and even volume. Greed, power, war, rage, our loss of humanity and decency. Loss of direction. So very sad.
As I sloshed throng the slough of words silently chewing mangled snips I wondered what the world has wrought upon a black and blue night terror scream that shouts out but no one is there.
Thank you for sharing this, @Kathleen Hobbs
You're welcome, Paul
Thanks for sharing this, @Gary Spangler
Thank you for restacking this, @Maureen Doallas
Thank you for sharing this rant, @Chen Rafaeli
I think it’s a poem. Poems can be rants, of course✨✨✨
Thank you, Chen. There are times when I wonder what it is I'm doing.
Thanks for this restack, @Stanley Wotring
Good Friday, @Portia, and thank you for this restack. Enjoy the weekend!
Same to you, Paul, have a great one!
Having seen in black and white on clay paper, I have seen what you speak about. I was left speechless by paper, you have colored with your words.
After all the examples we’ve seen from the 20th Century, you ‘d think we might have learned. Thank you for reading and commenting, Patricia.
Thanks for putting up with my strange posts! 😉
True!
The poet’s is a hard road
It’s not always sweet hearts and violets, Earl. Thanks for reading and commenting.
Oh how you whisper in my ear the tragedy of commons the hard hitting truths of history. Jeremiad is wicked good Sir Paul😊
Thank you, Lady G!
Rich in image and anguish, friend Paul.
There is so much of both in this, but better that than mindless distraction...
Best Wishes - Dave
Thank you, David—Best Wishes to you and Meg!
Oh Paul, how disheartening this world has been, through wars and all the suffering. We have lived through quite a few wars, but sometimes now, I wonder how close we are to the end. Let’s celebrate each day, and savor every bite and sip, every breath, every sunrise and sunset, every conversation and hug. Life is but to live, so let’s embrace it wholeheartedly with passion! Thank you for writing this, it reminded me of Burkowski. Did I spell his last name wrong? 😇❤️
Good Saturday, Jo-Ann. Thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts on this piece. Life wouldn't be life without a few bumps on the way. I think Bukowski knew that!
He certainly did know that, Paul!
What a powerful lament. <3
Thank you for reading and commenting, Petra.
“With the power of ten billion butterfly sneezes!”
Borrowed from the Moody Blues song, Higher and Higher on the album “To Our Children’s Children’s Children”
Quite a salvo, Paul Wittenberger, from 2024!
Thanks, Gary. If I remember correctly, this was written during the last week of March and early April. I don’t recall the impetus for writing it, though, but it grew sort of organically over those days.
Quite a poem, Paul, regardless of time of year. Harnessed energy and nothing to sneeze at!
Thanks, Gary, I appreciate it!
This feels less like a poem and more like a prophetic vision unfolding through images. I was especially struck by the tension between tenderness and devastation—the same voice that longs to feed with words of grace also wants to become the burning building itself. That movement gives the poem its unsettling power. It doesn't offer easy answers; it compels the reader to remain inside the fire long enough to ask what still deserves to be saved. Thank you for sharing such an uncompromising piece.
I think your comment captures the flavor of the piece, Antonio. Thank you.
I feel your rage here, Paul. I love the longer stanzas and how they increase in anger and even volume. Greed, power, war, rage, our loss of humanity and decency. Loss of direction. So very sad.
Thank you for reading, Gayle, and for sharing your thoughts about this piece.
As I sloshed throng the slough of words silently chewing mangled snips I wondered what the world has wrought upon a black and blue night terror scream that shouts out but no one is there.
The smoke has not cleared. Gotten thicker. Can’t breathe, can’t see hand in front of face. Scratch my head. Flakes fly or are they drones?
Maybe Jeremiah felt the same way 2,500 years ago.