Your bliss is not my bliss
and yet perhaps
if I tell you my bliss
there may be a place
where we can meet
beyond words
My father
used to meet that small him
who was me
every afternoon from school
in the green park across from School
he had no job then,
it got him out of the house
One day
which lives in bliss
he had this tiny
black and white bundle
straining on a new brown leather leash
overjoyed to see me
though we'd never met
Confession, CJ - i'd been reading Carol Ann Duffy and admiring the way she slips in a 'distancing' pronoun into her autobiographical... glad it works, anyway! Michael *_*
(Clapping) Delightful, Michael. I especially love the line, 'My father used to meet that small him who was me'. Truly a genius phrase. Well done. Well done, indeed. Warmest regards, CJ
This written after reading Wallace Stevens' 'Modern Poetry' on this site - poetry as 'the search for what will suffice'. Worth the read.
How extremely fortunate I am to have known (unfortunately not personally) the multi-talented Michael Shepherd. How sincerely sorry I am to have learned of his passing. He will not pass this way again. Goodbye my friend. Jerry Hughes
What a beaut it is... your bliss! It evoked memories of past where my father used to flip whenever we brought the new stray dog home. Yes, we did meet at a place to share your bliss- see?
I share this bliss Michael as I too have experienced the same for the same reason, and will always remember that day.. Love to you Fay.
Dear Michael, Unconditional love rears its black and white head again. Bliss indeed. love always, Allie
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
wow there is lots of poems over here....I hope I can read more of your work..This very inspiring poem...different approach