Saturday, July 5, 2014

Black Iris Comments

Rating: 5.0

Dear guitar, my Cyclops, my raft,
my drunken casket, my doll
without arms, my willow, my ink,
...
Read full text

Bruce Bond
COMMENTS
Tailor Bell 05 July 2014

Another tremendous read. I love to ignore punctuation and read what I want into a great work...so for me this has several if not many interpretations. Aside from a resplendent dark vision with tones of shortcomings, rejection and unrealized goals, there seems to be a theme of restrained control. Excellent delivery without over-metered over-rhymed trappings. Must I go on... Bravo! -Tailor

0 0 Reply
Sandra Feldman 05 July 2014

The whole poem is outstanding, but the first stanza is pregnant with originality in the description of the guitar: My Cyclops, My doll without arms Fantastic! ! ! Long live poetry, ticket to the Stars.

0 0 Reply
Sandra Feldman 05 July 2014

The Spaniard say the guitar is shaped as a woman. Federico Garcia Lorca and other Spanish poets have poems dedicated to the guitar. El Concierto de Aranjuez is a corded Lament, that cuts open the Soul. These all are my guesses. of why the guitar may have that effect on you. I may be totally wrong, but this poem resonated with me, I love the guitar too, the noble wood that cries. and so Spanish.....

0 0 Reply
Bruce Bond

Bruce Bond

United States
Close
Error Success