Snapshots

[PrinceMyshkin]

Thanks, Jer. I'm unhappy with the last line though. I may change it.

Last lines are sometimes the killers, aren't they, and sometimes they're the whole reason we wrote the preceding lines. Look at the dilemma Virgil created for me by proposing that I excise the last 3 or so lines of "That boy is still with me..."

[PrinceMyshkin]

The summer sun
brings out legions
of bare-armed, bare-legged
young women
with babies asleep
like amulets
across their chests

[kiz_paws]

The summer sun
brings out legions
of bare-armed, bare-legged
young women
with babies asleep
like amulets
across their chests

this one had me picturing the mothers with those baby-carrier-thingies and braving the heat heart-to-heart with their little one.

Sweet!

[PrinceMyshkin]

this one had me picturing the mothers with those baby-carrier-thingies and braving the heat heart-to-heart with their little one.

Sweet!

Exactly! I couldn't think of the familiar name for those things but concluded that even if I could, it might make the thing too literal, too weighed-down with detail. My object is always to give as vivid a picture as possible with nothing but the most essential details.

There's something about the seemingly effortless way those women carry their babies!

[kiz_paws]

My object is always to give as vivid a picture as possible with nothing but the most essential details.

And you are doing a fine job at that, Jer.

There's something about the seemingly effortless way those women carry their babies!

Maybe it has something to do with the fact that the weight of the little one is now evenly distributed between the shoulders (with lots of padding -- ever look at one of those 'thingies'?) AS OPPOSED TO the way that they naturally carried the infant in pregnancy (just their stomach muscles supporting the weight) ... or something like that.

I want to get one for my pet Pepper, but she is so noisy that I'd be doing a silly thing in that action. I am not crazy -- I saw a special one for pets!

[firefangled]

Exactly! I couldn't think of the familiar name for those things but concluded that even if I could, it might make the thing too literal...

I am happy you could not think of the literal name. Often this is what germinates the poetry of something, certainly in this case.

[PrinceMyshkin]

A young woman
–a girl, really
–perfectly shaped
in the proportions
of some smaller race,
wearing an unpretentiously elegant
brown flounce of a dress,
gets up from the table
and walks away
on tiny feet,
like the priestess of some cult
she knows nothing about

[CdnReader]

The last two lines of this one made me laugh out loud. Love it!!

[PrinceMyshkin]

A small, anonymous
Chinese woman
of a certain age
walks by at the usual hour
with her usual dog
and pauses, as usual,
to deposit something in the trash-can
before carrying on
to her - to me, at least
- unknowable destiny

[Sweets America]

A small, anonymous
Chinese woman
of a certain age
walks by at the usual hour
with her usual dog
and pauses, as usual,
to deposit something in the trash-can
before carrying on
to her - to me, at least
- unknowable destiny

This is strange, I'm somehow sure I have already read this, as if you had already written it before. I remember the Chinese woman and the fact that she threw something in the trash-can. Hum.

[kiz_paws]

A young woman
–a girl, really
–perfectly shaped
in the proportions
of some smaller race,
wearing an unpretentiously elegant
brown flounce of a dress,
gets up from the table
and walks away
on tiny feet,
like the priestess of some cult
she knows nothing about

I could see her! Wonderful painting, Jer!

As for the last two lines, I kind of viewed it as that she walked with the grace and elegance that were practiced by many, yet came natural to her ...

Lovely snapshot!

[PrinceMyshkin]

As for the last two lines, I kind of viewed it as that she walked with the grace and elegance that were practiced by many, yet came natural to her ...

Yes indeed. I was sure that if the sidewalk had feelings, it was nonetheless hardly aware of her footsteps.

[PrinceMyshkin]

A lazy, sunny Sunday
at the café.
A heavy-set man
urges his body up the street,
a helmeted woman cycles by
with an infant on the upper bar
of her bike, a smiling young woman
walks her dog,
two elderly women
whose comfortable companionship
is almost palpable

[paperleaves]

I love your works. All of them are so beautiful and revealing, the scenes you create are incredible. Thank you for sharing

[PrinceMyshkin]

The neighbourhood rag and scrap collector,
who lives as if he were homeless,
wheels his bike
around a tightly constricted route,
its handlebars draped
with overflowing shopping bags,
his chin
tucked permanently
so deep into his chest
you can barely see
the grime etched
into his painfully abstracted face