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And Wondered for the Day - A Poem

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  • David Roth
    And Wondered for the Day by David Roth © 2 November, 2005 Warm enough to remind me of Summer; Enough bite to forewarn me that winter lurked not far away, the
    Message 1 of 10 , Nov 2, 2005
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      And Wondered for the Day

      by David Roth

      © 2 November, 2005

       

      Warm enough to remind me of Summer;

      Enough bite to forewarn me

      that winter lurked not far away,

      the crisp autumn breeze stirred my senses.

       

      Were that not enough,

      a blizzard of colorful sheets

      like so many sticky notes

      tumbling and spinning gently down,

       

      reminding me, their measured insistence,

      drawing together in splendid chorus,

      of the changing days,

      and turning of seasons.

       

      I sit quietly on the hillside,

      captive observer

      of the firestorm of color

      consuming the horizon,

       

      aware of the special smell of autumn;

      of pumice and apple spice,

      and hickory wood smoke,

      lost in the sensual maelstrom.

       

      It seemed I closed my eyes

      but for a moment,

      and frost sleeved

      the tallow of field grass

       

      laid bare before the onset of winter.

      How long I lay there,

      I don't know. Minutes or months,

      the liquid flow of time and space

       

      moved in the secret dance

      of the universe,

      While I, the salient watcher,

      stretched van Winklien tallow

       

      and wondered for the day.

       

       

      "And sometimes, if I listen very closely, I can hear voices…"

      from Sometimes I Hear Voices

      my new book

      available at LuLu.com

       

       

      --
      No virus found in this outgoing message.
      Checked by AVG Free Edition.
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    • Diva
      My favorite passage: aware of the special smell of autumn; of pumice and apple spice, and hickory wood smoke, lost in the sensual maelstrom. It seemed I
      Message 2 of 10 , Nov 3, 2005
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        My favorite passage:
         
         

        "aware of the special smell of autumn;

        of pumice and apple spice,

        and hickory wood smoke,

        lost in the sensual maelstrom.

         

        It seemed I closed my eyes

        but for a moment,

        and frost sleeved

        the tallow of field grass"

         

         

        Words like this, that engage the senses, thrill me as the reader and challenge me as a writer.

         

         

        Marge

         

        ...er....

         

        Hebe

         

         

         

        (heh)

         

         
         
         


        David Roth <davidjroth2002@...> wrote:

        And Wondered for the Day

        by David Roth

        © 2 November, 2005

         

        Warm enough to remind me of Summer;

        Enough bite to forewarn me

        that winter lurked not far away,

        the crisp autumn breeze stirred my senses.

         

        Were that not enough,

        a blizzard of colorful sheets

        like so many sticky notes

        tumbling and spinning gently down,

         

        reminding me, their measured insistence,

        drawing together in splendid chorus,

        of the changing days,

        and turning of seasons.

         

        I sit quietly on the hillside,

        captive observer

        of the firestorm of color

        consuming the horizon,

         

        aware of the special smell of autumn;

        of pumice and apple spice,

        and hickory wood smoke,

        lost in the sensual maelstrom.

         

        It seemed I closed my eyes

        but for a moment,

        and frost sleeved

        the tallow of field grass

         

        laid bare before the onset of winter.

        How long I lay there,

        I don't know. Minutes or months,

        the liquid flow of time and space

         

        moved in the secret dance

        of the universe,

        While I, the salient watcher,

        stretched van Winklien tallow

         

        and wondered for the day.

         

         

        "And sometimes, if I listen very closely, I can hear voices…"

        “from Sometimes I Hear Voices”

        my new book

        available at LuLu.com

         

         

        --
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        Checked by AVG Free Edition.
        Version: 7.1.362 / Virus Database: 267.12.7/156 - Release Date: 11/2/2005


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      • David Roth
        Thanks, Marge. It s currently 68° here in the burgh. I walked outside a few minutes ago after being inside working all day, and there it was - that
        Message 3 of 10 , Nov 3, 2005
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          Thanks, Marge.
           
          It's currently 68° here in the 'burgh.  I walked outside a few minutes ago after being inside working all day, and there it was - that distinctive, you know its gotta be autumn, fragrence.  Simply delightful.  Words don't even come close to describing it (but of course, we poets feel obligated to give it a try, don't we  LOL )
           
          Dave
           
           

          "And sometimes, if I listen very closely, I can hear voices…"

          from Sometimes I Hear Voices

          my new book

          available at LuLu.com

           

          -----Original Message-----
          From: ticket2write@yahoogroups.com [mailto:ticket2write@yahoogroups.com] On Behalf Of Diva
          Sent: Thursday, November 03, 2005 7:10 AM
          To: ticket2write@yahoogroups.com
          Subject: Re: [ticket2write] And Wondered for the Day - A Poem

          My favorite passage:
           
           

          "aware of the special smell of autumn;

          of pumice and apple spice,

          and hickory wood smoke,

          lost in the sensual maelstrom.

           

          It seemed I closed my eyes

          but for a moment,

          and frost sleeved

          the tallow of field grass"

           

           

          Words like this, that engage the senses, thrill me as the reader and challenge me as a writer.

           

           

          Marge

           

          ...er....

           

          Hebe

           

           

           

          (heh)


          --
          No virus found in this outgoing message.
          Checked by AVG Free Edition.
          Version: 7.1.362 / Virus Database: 267.12.7/160 - Release Date: 11/3/2005

        • Carol
          Hi Dave, Very nice poem and what a spectacular autumn. I cannot remember one lasting so long. It s November and 75 degrees out here in Nebraska. We ll surely
          Message 4 of 10 , Nov 3, 2005
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            Hi Dave,
            Very nice poem and what a spectacular autumn. I cannot remember one
            lasting so long. It's November and 75 degrees out here in Nebraska.
            We'll surely pay for this somewhere down the line.
            I really like the uniqueness of the "blizzard of sticky notes" for
            describing the falling leaves. A new train of thought there, my
            friend. I like to use those little tabs stickies for my lit classes.
            A few of my tricks when I write poetry are:
            1. Get the darn idea down on paper (or computer--usually paper first)
            2. Let it cool
            3. Get the thesaurus open to the section in the back called "tactile"
            Find some better sensual words--not bigger--just more concrete
            4. Share the work
            5. Revise, but do not edit out the voice
            Nice work, my friend.
            Carol

            --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, "David Roth"
            <davidjroth2002@y...> wrote:
            >
            > And Wondered for the Day
            >
            > by David Roth
            >
            > © 2 November, 2005
            >
            >
            >
            > Warm enough to remind me of Summer;
            >
            > Enough bite to forewarn me
            >
            > that winter lurked not far away,
            >
            > the crisp autumn breeze stirred my senses.
            >
            >
            >
            > Were that not enough,
            >
            > a blizzard of colorful sheets
            >
            > like so many sticky notes
            >
            > tumbling and spinning gently down,
            >
            >
            >
            > reminding me, their measured insistence,
            >
            > drawing together in splendid chorus,
            >
            > of the changing days,
            >
            > and turning of seasons.
            >
            >
            >
            > I sit quietly on the hillside,
            >
            > captive observer
            >
            > of the firestorm of color
            >
            > consuming the horizon,
            >
            >
            >
            > aware of the special smell of autumn;
            >
            > of pumice and apple spice,
            >
            > and hickory wood smoke,
            >
            > lost in the sensual maelstrom.
            >
            >
            >
            > It seemed I closed my eyes
            >
            > but for a moment,
            >
            > and frost sleeved
            >
            > the tallow of field grass
            >
            >
            >
            > laid bare before the onset of winter.
            >
            > How long I lay there,
            >
            > I don't know. Minutes or months,
            >
            > the liquid flow of time and space
            >
            >
            >
            > moved in the secret dance
            >
            > of the universe,
            >
            > While I, the salient watcher,
            >
            > stretched van Winklien tallow
            >
            >
            >
            > and wondered for the day.
            >
            >
            >
            >
            >
            > "And sometimes, if I listen very closely, I can hear voices…"
            >
            > "from Sometimes I Hear Voices"
            >
            > my new book
            >
            > available at HYPERLINK "http://www.lulu.com/DavesBookPlace"LuLu.com
            >
            >
            >
            > HYPERLINK "http://www.lulu.com/DavesBookPlace"
            >
            >
            >
            > --
            > No virus found in this outgoing message.
            > Checked by AVG Free Edition.
            > Version: 7.1.362 / Virus Database: 267.12.7/156 - Release Date:
            11/2/2005
            >
          • wings081
            Hi David Excellent. You have a way of depicting life in verse without the use of extraneous padding. It is a talent which makes for more enjoyable reading with
            Message 5 of 10 , Nov 4, 2005
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              Hi David

              Excellent. You have a way of depicting life in verse without the use
              of extraneous padding.
              It is a talent which makes for more enjoyable reading with each new
              entry to the site.

              Thank you for sharing

              As always

              Wings
            • David Roth
              Wings, Thanks so much for your commentary on And Wondered for the Day. I have come to expect honest, objective, sometimes difficult critiques from this group
              Message 6 of 10 , Nov 4, 2005
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                Wings,
                 
                Thanks so much for your commentary on And Wondered for the Day.  I have come to expect honest, objective, sometimes difficult critiques from this group of writers.  Not always easy to swallow, but always worthy of my consideration - even when I don't like what I'm reading about 'my baby'  LOL.  This, of course, is one of those when I look at the comments, and then re-read the poem, and wonder, after a bit of reflection, what the reader has seen that I missed.  I am not overly impressed with my own work, and greatly appreciate encouragement like this.
                 
                Dave
                 
                 

                Now Available: Sometimes I Hear Voices

                A New Poetry Collection

                at Dave's Book Place at LuLu.com

                $9.95 plus Shipping



                ----- Original Message ----
                From: wings081 <no_reply@yahoogroups.com>
                To: ticket2write@yahoogroups.com
                Sent: Friday, November 04, 2005 11:02:10 AM
                Subject: [ticket2write] Re: And Wondered for the Day - A Poem (25059 David Roth)

                Hi David

                Excellent. You have a way of depicting life in verse without the use
                of extraneous padding.
                It is a talent which makes for more enjoyable reading with each new
                entry to the site.

                Thank you for sharing

                As always

                Wings


















              • wings081
                Hi again David All critiques on this site,whether hurtful or complimentary, are offered,I m sure, with good intent among friends to encourage the writer to
                Message 7 of 10 , Nov 4, 2005
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                  Hi again David
                  All critiques on this site,whether hurtful or complimentary, are
                  offered,I'm sure, with good intent among friends to encourage the
                  writer to take one more step on the ladder of success.

                  The part of your poem which hooked me was:
                  "A blizzard of colourful sheets
                  like so many sticky notes
                  tumbling and spinning gently down"

                  This year,in my small acre of God's garden,the sycamores especially
                  have produced more leaves than I can ever recall.
                  Yesterday we had a wind approaching sixty knots, breaking
                  those 'sticky notes' away from their parent branches and strewing
                  the drive and lawns like crumbs on a table cloth.
                  The birds are delighted as they flick over each dead leaf in search
                  of grubs.Pity they don't carry them over to my compost heap.

                  Have a great autumn.
                  As always

                  Wings


                  --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, David Roth
                  <davidjroth2002@y...> wrote:
                  >
                  > Wings,
                  >
                  > Thanks so much for your commentary on And Wondered for the Day. I
                  have come to expect honest, objective, sometimes difficult critiques
                  from this group of writers. Not always easy to swallow, but always
                  worthy of my consideration - even when I don't like what I'm reading
                  about 'my baby' LOL. This, of course, is one of those when I look
                  at the comments, and then re-read the poem, and wonder, after a bit
                  of reflection, what the reader has seen that I missed. I am not
                  overly impressed with my own work, and greatly appreciate
                  encouragement like this.
                  >
                  > Dave
                  >
                  >
                  >
                  >
                  > Now Available: Sometimes I Hear Voices
                  > A New Poetry Collection
                  > at Dave's Book Place at LuLu.com
                  > $9.95 plus Shipping
                  >
                  >
                  > ----- Original Message ----
                  > From: wings081 <no_reply@yahoogroups.com>
                  > To: ticket2write@yahoogroups.com
                  > Sent: Friday, November 04, 2005 11:02:10 AM
                  > Subject: [ticket2write] Re: And Wondered for the Day - A Poem
                  (25059 David Roth)
                  >
                  > Hi David
                  >
                  > Excellent. You have a way of depicting life in verse without the
                  use
                  > of extraneous padding.
                  > It is a talent which makes for more enjoyable reading with each
                  new
                  > entry to the site.
                  >
                  > Thank you for sharing
                  >
                  > As always
                  >
                  > Wings
                  >
                  >
                  >
                  >
                  >
                  >
                  >
                  >
                  >
                  >
                  >
                  >
                  >
                  >
                  >
                  >
                  >
                  >
                  >
                  >
                  > Learn more about ticket2wite at http://ticket2write.tripod.com
                  >
                  >
                  >
                  > SPONSORED LINKS Creative writing course Creative writing program
                  >
                  >
                  >
                  > YAHOO! GROUPS LINKS
                  >
                  > Visit your group "ticket2write" on the web.
                  >
                  > To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to:
                  > ticket2write-unsubscribe@yahoogroups.com
                  >
                  > Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to the Yahoo! Terms of
                  Service.
                  >
                • Carla Gleason
                  Yes, Dave s poem was filled with wonderful imagery. I love fall. Lived in New England for awhile and literally miss it every single day. I want to move back
                  Message 8 of 10 , Nov 5, 2005
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                    Yes, Dave's poem was filled with wonderful imagery.  I love fall. Lived in New England for awhile and literally miss it every single day.  I want to move back and will as soon as possible.
                     
                    Here is a poem I wrote about New England.
                     
                     
                    "The Thoroughfare"
                     
                    The thoroughfare--
                    my frequent outings
                    serve only as a reminder
                    of fondness; forever connections
                    on a road of timber.
                    Tall, erect, the lofty pines
                    take me away to Maine moments;
                    where green met blue
                    and life was more serene--
                    less challenged by the invasion
                    of circumstance, and hope
                    was easier met by perpetual shadows
                    of longing, casting no dim light
                    on my heart in a dual passion
                    over land and unfathonable affection,
                    making this distance all the more
                                                   unworkable.
                     
                    Copyright ©2005 CI

                     

                     

                     


                    Carol <carol_emt87@...> wrote:
                    Hi Dave,
                    Very nice poem and what a spectacular autumn. I cannot remember one
                    lasting so long. It's November and 75 degrees out here in Nebraska.
                    We'll surely pay for this somewhere down the line.
                    I really like the uniqueness of the "blizzard of sticky notes" for
                    describing the falling leaves. A new train of thought there, my
                    friend. I like to use those little tabs stickies for my lit classes.
                    A few of my tricks when I write poetry are:
                    1. Get the darn idea down on paper (or computer--usually paper first)
                    2. Let it cool
                    3. Get the thesaurus open to the section in the back called "tactile"
                       Find some better sensual words--not bigger--just more concrete
                    4. Share the work
                    5. Revise, but do not edit out the voice
                    Nice work, my friend.
                    Carol

                    --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, "David Roth"
                    <davidjroth2002@y...> wrote:
                    >
                    > And Wondered for the Day
                    >
                    > by David Roth
                    >
                    > © 2 November, 2005
                    >

                    >
                    > Warm enough to remind me of Summer;
                    >
                    > Enough bite to forewarn me
                    >
                    > that winter lurked not far away,
                    >
                    > the crisp autumn breeze stirred my senses.
                    >

                    >
                    > Were that not enough,
                    >
                    > a blizzard of colorful sheets
                    >
                    > like so many sticky notes
                    >
                    > tumbling and spinning gently down,
                    >

                    >
                    > reminding me, their measured insistence,
                    >
                    > drawing together in splendid chorus,
                    >
                    > of the changing days,
                    >
                    > and turning of seasons.
                    >

                    >
                    > I sit quietly on the hillside,
                    >
                    > captive observer
                    >
                    > of the firestorm of color
                    >
                    > consuming the horizon,
                    >

                    >
                    > aware of the special smell of autumn;
                    >
                    > of pumice and apple spice,
                    >
                    > and hickory wood smoke,
                    >
                    > lost in the sensual maelstrom.
                    >

                    >
                    > It seemed I closed my eyes
                    >
                    > but for a moment,
                    >
                    > and frost sleeved
                    >
                    > the tallow of field grass
                    >

                    >
                    > laid bare before the onset of winter.
                    >
                    > How long I lay there,
                    >
                    > I don't know. Minutes or months,
                    >
                    > the liquid flow of time and space
                    >

                    >
                    > moved in the secret dance
                    >
                    > of the universe,
                    >
                    > While I, the salient watcher,
                    >
                    > stretched van Winklien tallow
                    >

                    >
                    > and wondered for the day.
                    >

                    >

                    >
                    > "And sometimes, if I listen very closely, I can hear voices…"
                    >
                    > "from Sometimes I Hear Voices"
                    >
                    > my new book
                    >
                    > available at HYPERLINK "http://www.lulu.com/DavesBookPlace"LuLu.com
                    >

                    >
                    > HYPERLINK "http://www.lulu.com/DavesBookPlace"
                    >

                    >
                    > --
                    > No virus found in this outgoing message.
                    > Checked by AVG Free Edition.
                    > Version: 7.1.362 / Virus Database: 267.12.7/156 - Release Date:
                    11/2/2005
                    >




                  • David Roth
                    When I was a senior in high school (that would be about a hundred years ago) my girlfriend and I boarded a plane from Miami International to Logan to spend
                    Message 9 of 10 , Nov 6, 2005
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                      Message
                      When I was a senior in high school (that would be about a hundred years ago) my girlfriend and I boarded a plane from Miami International to Logan to spend Thanksgiving with her sister and brother in law in Portsmouth, NH.  We arrived several days early, stayed a couple of days afterwards, and spent most of the time on walking tours around New England, appreciating a late fall, and on one morning, an early freeze that sent ducks into a confused slide when they discovered that their approach pattern had frozen over in the night.
                       
                      Portsmouth and Strawberry Banks were beautiful, as were Kittery Maine, the Boston Freedom Walk, and the many other areas we walked.  Of special interest were the old gravestones.
                       
                      Thanks for reminding me of that wonderful weekend with this piece of yours, Carla.
                       
                      Dave
                       
                       

                      "And sometimes, if I listen very closely, I can hear voices…"

                      from Sometimes I Hear Voices

                      my new book

                      available at LuLu.com

                       

                      -----Original Message-----
                      From: ticket2write@yahoogroups.com [mailto:ticket2write@yahoogroups.com] On Behalf Of Carla Gleason
                      Sent: Saturday, November 05, 2005 5:47 PM
                      To: ticket2write@yahoogroups.com
                      Subject: Re: [ticket2write] Re: And Wondered for the Day - A Poem (Dave)

                      Yes, Dave's poem was filled with wonderful imagery.  I love fall. Lived in New England for awhile and literally miss it every single day.  I want to move back and will as soon as possible.
                       
                      Here is a poem I wrote about New England.
                       
                       
                      "The Thoroughfare"
                       
                      The thoroughfare--
                      my frequent outings
                      serve only as a reminder
                      of fondness; forever connections
                      on a road of timber.
                      Tall, erect, the lofty pines
                      take me away to Maine moments;
                      where green met blue
                      and life was more serene--
                      less challenged by the invasion
                      of circumstance, and hope
                      was easier met by perpetual shadows
                      of longing, casting no dim light
                      on my heart in a dual passion
                      over land and unfathonable affection,
                      making this distance all the more
                                                     unworkable.
                       
                      Copyright ©2005 CI

                       

                       

                       


                      Carol <carol_emt87@...> wrote:
                      Hi Dave,
                      Very nice poem and what a spectacular autumn. I cannot remember one
                      lasting so long. It's November and 75 degrees out here in Nebraska.
                      We'll surely pay for this somewhere down the line.
                      I really like the uniqueness of the "blizzard of sticky notes" for
                      describing the falling leaves. A new train of thought there, my
                      friend. I like to use those little tabs stickies for my lit classes.
                      A few of my tricks when I write poetry are:
                      1. Get the darn idea down on paper (or computer--usually paper first)
                      2. Let it cool
                      3. Get the thesaurus open to the section in the back called "tactile"
                         Find some better sensual words--not bigger--just more concrete
                      4. Share the work
                      5. Revise, but do not edit out the voice
                      Nice work, my friend.
                      Carol

                      --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, "David Roth"
                      <davidjroth2002@y...> wrote:
                      >
                      > And Wondered for the Day
                      >
                      > by David Roth
                      >
                      > © 2 November, 2005
                      >

                      >
                      > Warm enough to remind me of Summer;
                      >
                      > Enough bite to forewarn me
                      >
                      > that winter lurked not far away,
                      >
                      > the crisp autumn breeze stirred my senses.
                      >

                      >
                      > Were that not enough,
                      >
                      > a blizzard of colorful sheets
                      >
                      > like so many sticky notes
                      >
                      > tumbling and spinning gently down,
                      >

                      >
                      > reminding me, their measured insistence,
                      >
                      > drawing together in splendid chorus,
                      >
                      > of the changing days,
                      >
                      > and turning of seasons.
                      >

                      >
                      > I sit quietly on the hillside,
                      >
                      > captive observer
                      >
                      > of the firestorm of color
                      >
                      > consuming the horizon,
                      >

                      >
                      > aware of the special smell of autumn;
                      >
                      > of pumice and apple spice,
                      >
                      > and hickory wood smoke,
                      >
                      > lost in the sensual maelstrom.
                      >

                      >
                      > It seemed I closed my eyes
                      >
                      > but for a moment,
                      >
                      > and frost sleeved
                      >
                      > the tallow of field grass
                      >

                      >
                      > laid bare before the onset of winter.
                      >
                      > How long I lay there,
                      >
                      > I don't know. Minutes or months,
                      >
                      > the liquid flow of time and space
                      >

                      >
                      > moved in the secret dance
                      >
                      > of the universe,
                      >
                      > While I, the salient watcher,
                      >
                      > stretched van Winklien tallow
                      >

                      >
                      > and wondered for the day.
                      >

                      >

                      >
                      > "And sometimes, if I listen very closely, I can hear voices…"
                      >
                      > "from Sometimes I Hear Voices"
                      >
                      > my new book
                      >
                      > available at HYPERLINK "http://www.lulu.com/DavesBookPlace"LuLu.com
                      >

                      >
                      > HYPERLINK "http://www.lulu.com/DavesBookPlace"
                      >

                      >
                      > --
                      > No virus found in this outgoing message.
                      > Checked by AVG Free Edition.
                      > Version: 7.1.362 / Virus Database: 267.12.7/156 - Release Date:
                      11/2/2005
                      >





                      --
                      No virus found in this incoming message.
                      Checked by AVG Free Edition.
                      Version: 7.1.362 / Virus Database: 267.12.8/161 - Release Date: 11/3/2005


                      --
                      No virus found in this outgoing message.
                      Checked by AVG Free Edition.
                      Version: 7.1.362 / Virus Database: 267.12.8/161 - Release Date: 11/3/2005

                    • Carla Gleason
                      Hi David! WOW! I somehow missed this e-mail! Ohhhhhh ... I miss it so much there. Well, this is funny. I lived in Portsmouth, NH and walked across the
                      Message 10 of 10 , Nov 7, 2005
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                        Hi David!  WOW!  I somehow missed this e-mail! 
                         
                        Ohhhhhh ... I miss it so much there.  Well, this is funny.  I lived in Portsmouth, NH and walked across the Portsmouth Bridge frequently into Kittery, went to Boston as much as I could.  I intend to move back as soon as life allows.  This was amazing... Here is another that might prod a memory or two.
                         
                        Rye Harbor
                         
                        Riding down tree lined roads
                        on the way to your shores,
                        now distant, yet remembered-
                        the journey plesant while
                        it lasted, before a shift in the weather
                        made bicyclinig unfeasible.
                         
                        Recorded moments of days; months
                        turned to years, I wrote in my journals
                        while relaxing under a canopy of
                        clouds, blowing in and out
                        with the northeastern winds,
                        as the boats moved about your harbor.
                         
                        The sounds of a lonely gull,
                        the serenity of a picture etched
                        in my remembrance, of restful day
                        graced by New England tranquility,
                        Rye Harbor, though afar off,
                        You remain close to my heart.
                         

                        Copyright ©2004 CI

                         


                        David Roth <davidjroth2002@...> wrote:
                        When I was a senior in high school (that would be about a hundred years ago) my girlfriend and I boarded a plane from Miami International to Logan to spend Thanksgiving with her sister and brother in law in Portsmouth, NH.  We arrived several days early, stayed a couple of days afterwards, and spent most of the time on walking tours around New England, appreciating a late fall, and on one morning, an early freeze that sent ducks into a confused slide when they discovered that their approach pattern had frozen over in the night.
                         
                        Portsmouth and Strawberry Banks were beautiful, as were Kittery Maine, the Boston Freedom Walk, and the many other areas we walked.  Of special interest were the old gravestones.
                         
                        Thanks for reminding me of that wonderful weekend with this piece of yours, Carla.
                         
                        Dave
                         
                         

                        "And sometimes, if I listen very closely, I can hear voices…"

                        “from Sometimes I Hear Voices”

                        my new book

                        available at LuLu.com

                         

                        -----Original Message-----
                        From: ticket2write@yahoogroups.com [mailto:ticket2write@yahoogroups.com] On Behalf Of Carla Gleason
                        Sent: Saturday, November 05, 2005 5:47 PM
                        To: ticket2write@yahoogroups.com
                        Subject: Re: [ticket2write] Re: And Wondered for the Day - A Poem (Dave)

                        Yes, Dave's poem was filled with wonderful imagery.  I love fall. Lived in New England for awhile and literally miss it every single day.  I want to move back and will as soon as possible.
                         
                        Here is a poem I wrote about New England.
                         
                         
                        "The Thoroughfare"
                         
                        The thoroughfare--
                        my frequent outings
                        serve only as a reminder
                        of fondness; forever connections
                        on a road of timber.
                        Tall, erect, the lofty pines
                        take me away to Maine moments;
                        where green met blue
                        and life was more serene--
                        less challenged by the invasion
                        of circumstance, and hope
                        was easier met by perpetual shadows
                        of longing, casting no dim light
                        on my heart in a dual passion
                        over land and unfathonable affection,
                        making this distance all the more
                                                       unworkable.
                         
                        Copyright ©2005 CI

                         

                         

                         


                        Carol <carol_emt87@...> wrote:
                        Hi Dave,
                        Very nice poem and what a spectacular autumn. I cannot remember one
                        lasting so long. It's November and 75 degrees out here in Nebraska.
                        We'll surely pay for this somewhere down the line.
                        I really like the uniqueness of the "blizzard of sticky notes" for
                        describing the falling leaves. A new train of thought there, my
                        friend. I like to use those little tabs stickies for my lit classes.
                        A few of my tricks when I write poetry are:
                        1. Get the darn idea down on paper (or computer--usually paper first)
                        2. Let it cool
                        3. Get the thesaurus open to the section in the back called "tactile"
                           Find some better sensual words--not bigger--just more concrete
                        4. Share the work
                        5. Revise, but do not edit out the voice
                        Nice work, my friend.
                        Carol

                        --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, "David Roth"
                        <davidjroth2002@y...> wrote:
                        >
                        > And Wondered for the Day
                        >
                        > by David Roth
                        >
                        > © 2 November, 2005
                        >

                        >
                        > Warm enough to remind me of Summer;
                        >
                        > Enough bite to forewarn me
                        >
                        > that winter lurked not far away,
                        >
                        > the crisp autumn breeze stirred my senses.
                        >

                        >
                        > Were that not enough,
                        >
                        > a blizzard of colorful sheets
                        >
                        > like so many sticky notes
                        >
                        > tumbling and spinning gently down,
                        >

                        >
                        > reminding me, their measured insistence,
                        >
                        > drawing together in splendid chorus,
                        >
                        > of the changing days,
                        >
                        > and turning of seasons.
                        >

                        >
                        > I sit quietly on the hillside,
                        >
                        > captive observer
                        >
                        > of the firestorm of color
                        >
                        > consuming the horizon,
                        >

                        >
                        > aware of the special smell of autumn;
                        >
                        > of pumice and apple spice,
                        >
                        > and hickory wood smoke,
                        >
                        > lost in the sensual maelstrom.
                        >

                        >
                        > It seemed I closed my eyes
                        >
                        > but for a moment,
                        >
                        > and frost sleeved
                        >
                        > the tallow of field grass
                        >

                        >
                        > laid bare before the onset of winter.
                        >
                        > How long I lay there,
                        >
                        > I don't know. Minutes or months,
                        >
                        > the liquid flow of time and space
                        >

                        >
                        > moved in the secret dance
                        >
                        > of the universe,
                        >
                        > While I, the salient watcher,
                        >
                        > stretched van Winklien tallow
                        >

                        >
                        > and wondered for the day.
                        >

                        >

                        >
                        > "And sometimes, if I listen very closely, I can hear voices…"
                        >
                        > "from Sometimes I Hear Voices"
                        >
                        > my new book
                        >
                        > available at HYPERLINK "http://www.lulu.com/DavesBookPlace"LuLu.com
                        >

                        >
                        > HYPERLINK "http://www.lulu.com/DavesBookPlace"
                        >

                        >
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                        11/2/2005
                        >





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