knowing other poets like sighthounds are to other dogs— wholly different, aware, intuitive so poets are to other people noticing detail hearts more attuned, deep radar for awe may blessings pour upon you, oh poets who have felled me to my knees
Didi, I love this comparison. Sighthounds to other dogs—and poets to other people. ❤️ Perhaps poets simply have a different kind of radar, picking up details that the rest of us walk past without noticing. And sometimes one poet's way of seeing wakes something in another. Thank you, Didi.
Dear Chota Bhai—That radar is just what makes sighthounds so different. I have shared life with 2 Irish wolfhounds, 1 Scottish deerhound, 2 salukis, one whippet, and now our sweet lurcher Jazz, who is 50% greyhound. 12 % saluki, 7% Scottish deerhound, and 25% Airedale terrier. (I had her DNA done) Yes, "sometimes one poet’s way of seeing wakes something in another." You and I perhaps?
Yes, YES! Dear Choti Bhai, when you opened your tender and good heart to me in your comments—those two, besides your observations, awaken me. By the way, my friends Moudi and I—we call each other Habibi (beloved friend) so I may forget and sometimes call you that! Please take no offense at the Arabic.
And dear Choti Bhai, that photo is of me, brought to my knees. My sweet husband of 38 years took it yesterday for this post. He’s Dutch, by the way—born and bred—and yet he has edited for me in English. Stunning, I think.
Oh, Didi. ❤️ Then I shall gladly accept Habibi whenever it slips out. No offense at all—only affection.
And yes, that photograph is beautiful. There is something very moving about knowing your husband took it, after 38 years together. Perhaps that is another kind of seeing—someone who has known you for so long still looking at you closely enough to make a photograph like that.
And now I understand the title a little differently. You really did bring us to our knees. 😊❤️
Thank you, Dave, for responding and reading. Because of the physical structural pain I've been in, my poems are not what they used to be. I'm coming back... it's just slower than than I had hoped.
Oh friend, and thee for me!! Tomorrow a second steroid spinal epidural, this time is L5/S1. After that, when I'm not as this short poem expresses, could the three of us zoom again? I miss you!
radar sends out invisible sound waves and measures what comes back when they strike an object. poets might send invisble waves into the world/universe/heartscape and respond to what returns to our sensitive selves.
Didi, I love this comparison. Sighthounds to other dogs—and poets to other people. ❤️ Perhaps poets simply have a different kind of radar, picking up details that the rest of us walk past without noticing. And sometimes one poet's way of seeing wakes something in another. Thank you, Didi.
Dear Chota Bhai—That radar is just what makes sighthounds so different. I have shared life with 2 Irish wolfhounds, 1 Scottish deerhound, 2 salukis, one whippet, and now our sweet lurcher Jazz, who is 50% greyhound. 12 % saluki, 7% Scottish deerhound, and 25% Airedale terrier. (I had her DNA done) Yes, "sometimes one poet’s way of seeing wakes something in another." You and I perhaps?
Yes, Didi. I think we have woken something in each other. ❤️
Your way of seeing makes me notice things differently, and perhaps my little observations sometimes send something back your way.
Maybe that is one of the nicest things about finding another poet—not simply being understood, but being made to notice again.
Yes, YES! Dear Choti Bhai, when you opened your tender and good heart to me in your comments—those two, besides your observations, awaken me. By the way, my friends Moudi and I—we call each other Habibi (beloved friend) so I may forget and sometimes call you that! Please take no offense at the Arabic.
And dear Choti Bhai, that photo is of me, brought to my knees. My sweet husband of 38 years took it yesterday for this post. He’s Dutch, by the way—born and bred—and yet he has edited for me in English. Stunning, I think.
Oh, Didi. ❤️ Then I shall gladly accept Habibi whenever it slips out. No offense at all—only affection.
And yes, that photograph is beautiful. There is something very moving about knowing your husband took it, after 38 years together. Perhaps that is another kind of seeing—someone who has known you for so long still looking at you closely enough to make a photograph like that.
And now I understand the title a little differently. You really did bring us to our knees. 😊❤️
And thee to mine.
Oh younger brother, is there a shorter way to say Choti Bhai? Didi rolls so wonderfully off the tongue.
Didi, please see today’s essay. I’m dedicating the window in the image to you. Enjoy the world through it. ❤️
This is so lovely, Amrita...
Poetry is its own kind of sight, of things most people disregard, and of all the strange associations of existence.
Best Wishes - Dave :)
Thank you, Dave, for responding and reading. Because of the physical structural pain I've been in, my poems are not what they used to be. I'm coming back... it's just slower than than I had hoped.
Thank you for being "deep radar" for so many if us!
Oh friend, and thee for me!! Tomorrow a second steroid spinal epidural, this time is L5/S1. After that, when I'm not as this short poem expresses, could the three of us zoom again? I miss you!
taking pain medication exactly as prescribed
I am a drunk poet
too high still
the ache, throbbing
scours me
call it tanked, pickled, blitzed
no longer intermittent
my familiar is ever-present
all that’s left: greet it
again, again again
Yes, that would be nice! Let me know a time that works for you.
radar sends out invisible sound waves and measures what comes back when they strike an object. poets might send invisble waves into the world/universe/heartscape and respond to what returns to our sensitive selves.
Yes, I feel this is so true!
My low back, dear Felice , is shockingly painful. Epidural on Wednesday morning. Struck down twice in six weeks—phenomenal happening. Oh life!
What a delightful series of comments this post has provoked. I feel like a lucky bystander--in just the right place as a parade walks by.
Namaste!
hearts more attuned, deep radar for awe - this is how it is with poets :)