Lover's Blues

Wetter

       Than wet

                 In the Scottish wetness

                                       of home

Reminds me 

              of Irish puddles in the...

… in the

drunken nights with you

Reminds me

     of drunken puddles in the ...

… in the

Irish nights of Cork

Reviews

[John Alexander McFadyen]

So yer puddled and yer heed is soakin'? I take great interest in what the cumulus is doing and often wonder that anyone would wish to live in soggy old Northern Ireland and the west coast of Scotland lol!
Another interesting piece as it provides a fragmented forcast that reminds the protagonist of love in bygone days. Always interesting stuff gram, always interesting.

[gram linski]

Cheers, John, always an interesting review, but unfortunately for u, Cork is in Eire, the southern half of yon fragmented land, watch yer backstop, fella,

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Aye of that I am aware but most of the rain is across the noeth and over into western Scotland. You obviously got wet in the south, but we knew that lol! Backstop. The solution may be a united Ireland I have been told?

[gram linski]

My Uncle would say the solution is a big f**k off semtex bomb, we don't let him babysit any more,

[Coyote Poetry]

I loved the dance of thoughts. I had to read again my dear friend. Thank you for sharing the outstanding poetry.
Coyote

[Eilis]

This sort of makes me think of those tests where some doctor asks you to look at an image and say what it makes you think without thinking about it. The puddles of two places intertwined in memory to create an evocative sense of feeling which nevertheless remains only partly defined.

Sometimes I think those subconscious associations are more powerful emotionally than the experience itself. What lingers after time moves on from the memory seems to take on a life of its own.

With your poem, what struck me is that it is the rain that took center stage. The person being spoken to is only present by association with the rain that permeates two places. So this palpable kind of longing becomes a kind of weather itself. Something to dress the inner sky when a sense of something mostly undefined comes descending.

I like how you create a longing here that draws us all in. No idea who this girl is or what she looks like; what her merits are, but her association with a time past and ability to draw the speaker back with just a walk in the rain—this offers the sense that she made a lasting impression. So, that kind of automatically draws me back to my own points of reference where someone made an impression on me and it is the impression that has endured. Often unclear and maybe the better for it.

The view from afar lets the heart create the ideal picture. Puddles and drunken nights. The nostalgia of a space that is no longer accessible. But memory and imagination are landscapes of their own. Great little poem, Gram.

[gram linski]

hey, Eilis, thanks for the great review, the title is a slight misnomer, it was more a recollection of the experience of rolling about drunk in puddles, laughing in the rain, maybe why the rain is the central character, but again your thoughts and insight are really appreciated, thanks again for digging this one out from the archives, always a pleasure getting an Eilis review,

[Chris Shaw]

Sound pretty boozy to me gram. Are you reflecting and missing those drunken nights with a certain someone? Been to Cork, and yes drank alot there. They do like their drink. A short poem, which opened up several trains of thought for me.

Chris

[gram linski]

It was raining, we were drunk, great times did a poetic rant in the story teller's pub, can't remember actual name, she is gone and I am drunk and wet, lol

[jacob erin-cilberto]

puddles from the bottle, puddles from the sky....wet and dry...love's passion, or not....
but always the memories of.
j.

[gram linski]

Great review, j, were you there ?, lol,