XPost: alt.arts.poetry.comments   
   From: ggam77@net-kooks.org   
      
   On Thu, 3 Mar 2005 21:07:39 +0200, "David Hamilton"   
    wrote:   
      
   >Sad film   
   >   
   >Dad never visits.   
   >He wants to,   
   >that much he and I share.   
   >But it isn't enough.   
   >   
   >He wiped his eyes   
   >that September night   
   >as we watched   
   >someone's view   
   >of life after death,   
   >love beyond the grave,   
   >man's search for more.   
   >Mother cried too,   
   >But more openly,   
   >unafraid of what we might think.   
   >She was crying for him,   
   >as I guess   
   >he was for us.   
   >I knew   
   >death wouldn't walk the boards   
   >for a captive audience.   
   >Shy Thespian.   
   >Better to savour empathy,   
   >choose the moment   
   >when the theatre has emptied.   
   >   
   >Foul broacher of promises   
   >curse your inevitability.   
   >But, your secret, so un-secret   
   >as to announce itself.   
   >Death, you have such a poor memory,   
   >heavy work load,   
   >and tight schedule.   
   >   
   >Should remembering sadness   
   >this way bring warmth?   
   >Because it does.   
   >It isn't just poets that find emotions   
   >in flowing ink.   
   >It isn't just the living   
   >that hope for a life beyond death.   
   >Ask dad.   
   >But, please, tell me what he said.   
   >   
   >(c) David Hamilton 4 Mar 05   
   >   
   >   
      
      
   For the love of christ, don't read this schlock to the nice expat   
   ladies in Cyprus.   
      
   Learn what imagery is.   
      
   Avoid cliches and abstractions.   
      
   Read a million poems before you attempt to write another one.   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)