Damn. So beautiful, Oliver. I'm not sure how you feel, but sometimes it's hard for me to write about anything but my son and so often it's melodramatic, but this poem reinforces my belief that love poems about children can be done and can be done well. A beautiful balance of nature, nuture, and magic, a sublime mixture of high lyricism and home-bodied narrative. Lovely!
Thanks Gary!To be truthful, the poems I've been writing about my son terrify me, which is why I know I need to write them.Generally I start by writing about nothing in particular--an objective correlative if you will--is the trigger point and then . . . it just happens. For the case of this poem, it quite literally started when I looked at our empty bird feeders while carrying my son. I'm around my son much of the day. He's more or less the materials I have to work with.I hear you, though. I'm always concerned about the pathos-meter. I am my own pathos-police, and I can generally be pretty harsh on myself.
Great poem. I don't know how you keep it up with a little one.
Thanks Martha!The answer's simple--Meredith.It doesn't take me long to write a poem these days. Namely because I write so little during the academic calendar (I'm lucky if I manage to squeak out one poem during school time). So I've had poems in my head that haven't been put down on paper for nearly 9 months. I've also become a faster editor over the years.
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