Thank you, Habibi. That means a lot. We were never close, which made his loss when I was 33 even harder. Lost opportunity. He was a closet alcoholic and had no concept of how to share his feelings. No wonder he dropped dead of a heart attack!
I loved this! The calligram is an interesting form, to say the least. And, the poignancy of the poem moves my heart. Thank you, once again, dear Amrita.
Thanks, Jan. I first wrote this as an essay--it fit on one page. 299 words, if I remember. Then as a prose poem, and most recently as a Calligram. I'm just glad that my father had a few visits with my physically-disabled son, who was four when he died. I lived in CA, and they lived in Cincinnati. Dad always said that Bird would walk, and he turned out to be right--even though the doctors were hesitant to say he would, Bird's been on his feet ever since, and is now 51. He figured out walking at six and a half.
Actually, I've never written about my dad's comment and prediction--only the poem about when my son walked for the first time. Making a note to do that! THANK YOU!
oh dear friend, I love tone, the shape, the heart in this poem
Thank you, Habibi. That means a lot. We were never close, which made his loss when I was 33 even harder. Lost opportunity. He was a closet alcoholic and had no concept of how to share his feelings. No wonder he dropped dead of a heart attack!
I loved this! The calligram is an interesting form, to say the least. And, the poignancy of the poem moves my heart. Thank you, once again, dear Amrita.
Thank you, Julie!
What a remarkable container for your loss Amrita, the story fits so perfectly. I will be carrying it with me.
Thanks, Jan. I first wrote this as an essay--it fit on one page. 299 words, if I remember. Then as a prose poem, and most recently as a Calligram. I'm just glad that my father had a few visits with my physically-disabled son, who was four when he died. I lived in CA, and they lived in Cincinnati. Dad always said that Bird would walk, and he turned out to be right--even though the doctors were hesitant to say he would, Bird's been on his feet ever since, and is now 51. He figured out walking at six and a half.
What a gift that your Dad and your son met and that his prediction was so true - sounds like another poem (which I'm sure you have already written).
Actually, I've never written about my dad's comment and prediction--only the poem about when my son walked for the first time. Making a note to do that! THANK YOU!
A staggering first line. A sad story in the middle. And then here we are again. A tight weaving in a compact case. Beautiful.
Love this new form... the Calligram! Brilliant poem and suit(case)ably suited to its form!