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Acquainted with the White — 14 Comments

  1. What if Frost was born with a name like Brimestone? How might that have affected his poetry…

  2. In anticipation and preparation for the White….

    Haiku For Autumn

    An old alley cat
    sharpened his claws on a tree
    then pissed on brown leaves

  3. Knowing Neo

    I used to think her name was prob’ly Cleo
    Her name would rhyme to show a poet’s class
    And so it just makes sense that she’d choose Neo.

    But Sunday morn when I walked out of Mass
    I search the sky and then began to think.
    A rhyme like that was surely much too crass.

    She has the kind of guts to face the brink
    She pulls no punches, says what’s on her mind
    The name she chose was just to make us think.

    If nothing else we know she’s truly kind
    She doesn’t write like one who’d drop a bomb
    Her virtue is she has an active mind.

    She writes for us with knowledge and aplomb
    I think she may be just a loving Mom.

    Mark

  4. Some people say I shovel it out pretty good.

    I dont think they were talking about the snow though.

  5. The white is a difficult thing to change?

    Beautifully done. I’m shivering with pleasure. Thank you for inviting us inside and fixing us a treat.

  6. I prefer the snow on Mauna Kea; nice to look at, and I don’t have to shovel it…

  7. Neo, your poem is beautiful and much more articulate than mine… but my poem is warmer, is warmer, is warmer.. Hat tip to Gertrude Stein.
    ———————-
    Y’all take the snow, cold winds that blow,
    we’ll fish our lake till sundown red.
    We’ll watch the Ocean eb and flow,
    and slap a ‘skeeter on our head.

    Are skeeters better than frozen ears,
    or tiny broken, crystal tears?
    We’ll take the year-round cozy days,
    and pray you out of that icy maze…

    ExPreacherMan in South Florida.

  8. Neo,

    You have pinpointed exactly why, thirty-six years ago, I decided not to go to Dartmouth (Medical School), and instead headed for California, and have never regretted the decision!

    A lovely poem.

    Nel mezzo del camin di nostra vita
    mi ritrovai per una selva oscura
    ché la diritta via era smarrita.

    Ahi quanto a dir qual era é¨ cosa dura
    esta selva selvaggia ed aspra e forte
    che nel pensier rinova la paura!…

    Jamie Irons

  9. A very nice poem. I’m certain that the words have a deeper meaning, but for now I just want to remember the snow, the harsh cold of winter, and the reward of warmth.

    I love my home in Florida, but my heart is still in the Mid Hudson Valley region on New York.

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