I must admit that I am surprised at the accolades from the throng of people that have... and are buying my book! I am somewhat taken aback by the response of those who enjoy reading and owning my book. One such individual wrote about the "Vigilant Leaf of Bedlam Farm", the poem from the book about a particular leaf as follows.......
The Vigilant Leaf of Bedlam Farm
As years before it happens always, in the spring right after thawing,
watched from a tiny bud it grew, all through the summer, for we knew,
when its life neared end of summer, before fall ushered into slumber,
and turned to red it’s changing face, still occupied my walkway place.
The morning breeze now carries on it, thoughts of winters freezing sonnet,
and all become surrendered forage, carried by this wind so torrid,
yet hangs this one on sunlit morning, even though the wind’s still warning,
tomorrow’s winter, frozen water, in which time you’ll fade and falter.
With winter chill it hung in there, still waving though the world is bare,
the morning of the last deep snow, I said “it’s gone” was hid below,
late that afternoon appear, its melted signal “I’m still here,”
Others left me till next summer; mine’s still hanging here in slumber.
Now it’s gone, from lofty perch, this ice was bad; I’ve looked, I searched,
just when I thought ‘twas gone for good, it reappeared, I knew it would,
yes, at my feet, encased in ice, remains my leaf, bright red still nice,
a picture there in natures frame, still shines for me and looks the same.
watched from a tiny bud it grew, all through the summer, for we knew,
when its life neared end of summer, before fall ushered into slumber,
and turned to red it’s changing face, still occupied my walkway place.
The morning breeze now carries on it, thoughts of winters freezing sonnet,
and all become surrendered forage, carried by this wind so torrid,
yet hangs this one on sunlit morning, even though the wind’s still warning,
tomorrow’s winter, frozen water, in which time you’ll fade and falter.
With winter chill it hung in there, still waving though the world is bare,
the morning of the last deep snow, I said “it’s gone” was hid below,
late that afternoon appear, its melted signal “I’m still here,”
Others left me till next summer; mine’s still hanging here in slumber.
Now it’s gone, from lofty perch, this ice was bad; I’ve looked, I searched,
just when I thought ‘twas gone for good, it reappeared, I knew it would,
yes, at my feet, encased in ice, remains my leaf, bright red still nice,
a picture there in natures frame, still shines for me and looks the same.
After receiving this email from this fellow, I looked at my own poem from a different perspective. That's the beauty of poetry... it can change its meaning or mood by changing perspective based upon ones feelings at the time of reading. Following are his words, verbatim... as I received them in reference to this particular poem.
"Three quarters thru “unpretentious notions of a minimalistic Man", reading when I have time to ponder,
I found that I loved the poem of the tenacious leaf from the farm called bedlam
And it even rhymes …lol
It reminds me of MANY things
But metaphorically it reminded me of loved ones
That are at one time in front of us and part of our daily sights and available to shade/shield/nurture us
But later they are frozen in time, their image encased….. in glass or the mind , so that we may think back
And recall when they were alive and waving at us daily
And because of that they will never truly leave us
Thanks for sharing"
This... my friends, was the result I wanted to achieve with my poetry. I wanted to publish a high end collection of my thoughts and feelings about friendship, love detestation, pain, grief, happiness, loneliness and many other sensory reactions to life and daily living. The diversity I was lucky enough to achieve has been cited by another reader that told me she really enjoyed each entry and looked forward to breaching the threshold of the next. I have had many queries about signing copies of purchased books and am more than humbled by such requests, for I never expected such notoriety as an author. Be assured that none of this is passed off lightly and I am very proud to have turned out such a collection of works so well received by all who have read them.
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