Forget-Me-Not

I'm sorry I have not gotten back to this. Thank you for these very helpful suggestions. I have never used automatic writing to spur thought or encourage inspiration in writing, at least not deliberately. I can see, though, how it could be very useful. I also liked the idea of sitting and writing down everything one sees and hears and smells, etc. I tend to naturally take in my surroundings using the senses, being especially aware of them when I'm out in nature, but writing them down would be very helpful, possibly therapeutic too. I especially liked your example of automatic writing with my poem, the first line you wrote in particular. With having suspected elements of my poem having subconscious meaning where my life is concerned, the moment I read that first line you shared, I felt it almost prophetic and since then it now seems more so. Anyway, thank you. I think now I might be able to begin to write more of the poem and think I'll be able to give it the ending I want for it, as well. :)

That's very interesting, especially not knowing how other poet's stories unfold for them. Maybe I should try writing the ending of this one next, since I just don't want it to end sadly and I've been afraid it might. Then I can figure out what happened in between. I don't know if that will be easier or harder for me, though, since I've only ever written from the beginning onward to the end. Maybe I'll try it. :)

I seldom let others see a poem I have not finished, but this one tells enough of a story that I thought I would. Ordinarily I write most of my poems in one sitting, but this one was already quite long and far from finished when I had other things to tend to and had to stop. Poem - unfinished Upon a fair day long since past I wandered down the hill below And stepping lightly on the path Beyond where yonder heather grow I felt the breeze upon my cheek While breathing deep of sea foam scent And saw the whales as they breached Afar off and the waters rent Then sat I on the dampened shore With my bare feet thin caked with sand And spread the grasses by my side To pick the shells washed up in hand The gulls above they raised their cries While hovering on the air aloft With waves beneath that gently rolled To wet the sand and smooth it soft Then off down toward the cliffs abreast I glimpsed him walking fast apace His head was bowed low to his chest A growth of beard upon his face I wondered of this stranger tall With cap of gray pulled o're his eyes Where of he came in tattered clothes From down the shore neath fairest skies I watched him pause beside a rock And then bend slowly to the ground An object from his pocket brought Then dug a hole and put it down And covered where his treasure lay Then gently stood again to stare Upon the earth as if to bid A long farewell to one most fair The shells I dropped from out my hand And stood to watch him walk away Not quickly as he'd come at first But slowly in the set of day Watched I until he out of sight Beyond the jagged rocky crop In thought I tarried longer yet With wondering I could not make stop But light by then was dim with eve So to my cottage made my way To wait and see what I might find Beneath the earth another day I put me water on to heat And then my evening supper spread Of golden cheese and coddled milk And on my plate laid heavy bread I supped my fill and then did bathe To wash the sand from off my skin Reclined to rest in water warm Reflecting in the fire coal dim That night to bed I finally crept But slumber it did slip from me With thoughts of he I'd seen that day Intruding and were scarce to flee For days that followed life kept pull Where labors of their burden lay But thoughts I could not keep without Of what he planted on that day And too, of him, where had he gone When past the cliffs beyond my sight What place had he come traveling from There to return by dark of night But then upon an early morn When no work called to summon me I made my way down to the place Beside the rock along the sea Wence it had beckoned me for days But finally there I stood beside To wonder what was hidden there Within the ground above the tide Down to my knees I dropped to kneel And gently moved the earth away And there within the hole he'd dug Found I a small brown pouch did lay I lifted it and then untied The cord that held it knotted tight Reached in my fingers and withdrew An object wrapped in linen white And when exposed twas sure mine eyes Had not before such beauty seen A brooch of shell that set in gold Of lace design and costly gleam Within were found the purest shades Of blue as that of sea and sky Atop, by labored carver's skill In white and holding flowers nigh Beheld a lady... That's as far as I got. When a friend read it she said, "Finish it! Finish it! I want to know how it ends!" At the time, though, I wasn't sure I wanted to know the ending, afraid it might end badly. I don't know what other people see in their mind as they write, but usually for me I begin a poem without having any idea where it will go and only find out as it unfolds before me. For, example, I did not see the man's face to know what he looks like, other than that he has a growth of beard. I don't know if I will see him again either, to find out. I also have no idea yet what the brooch meant to him or why he buried it. Because of certain elements to this poem, though, I suspect there may be subconscious meaning to it, so I decided to wait awhile before attempting to finish it.

Thank you. I've had friends say I have a gift or talent and that I should publish, but I wouldn't begin to know how to go about that. Clearly, though, there is much about poetry to be learned that I had no idea of. I also do not know how to properly punctuate my poetry, having a tendency to place a comma at any slight pause. Because of that I usually remove most or all punctuation before posting, preferring to have none rather than to show all my errors, lol.

Oh my! That was mournfully beautiful.

Thank you :)

Thank you. This poem is one of special meaning for me, as is probably obvious. I wrote my first poem when I was 4 years old, though I could not yet write. But, the poem came to me one night as I was supposed to be sleeping and when it did I had to get up and go tell it to my mother and she wrote it down for me. I may have written a few little things in grade school as assignments. Probably also when making cards for my mother as a child I may have written a verse or two. But I really didn't start writing poetry until I was about 25 and then, still, infrequently. I've have not written that many either. I'd say, probably 35 or so is all and most of those are fairly recent, in the last few years.

That's interesting, I guess I didn't realize there were categories. I mean, I've read and noticed differences with some poetry having a rhythm though no rhyme, while some rhymes though may or may not be rhythmic, etc., but I didn't realize the various forms involved much beyond either that which rhymes and that which does not. I know little about poetry, have never studied. I've just always loved poetry and it seems to be a natural means of expression for me. When I want to say something import or of deep or personal meaning, I tend naturally to revert to poetry in order to express it. I don't know why, other than my mother wrote poetry, as well as hymns, both lyrics & music.

I very much enjoyed your poem. I'm not good at free style so I like seeing how others write it. Also, though every season has things I love, I think I enjoy autumn the most and reading your poem was like walking through the woods along the river on a beautiful fall day.

I don't know if this was a, "Mormon Glow," but some years back while at a stake choir practice for conference, a sister I didn't know and had never seen before approached me in the choir loft excitedly saying, "I knew it! I just knew you were LDS!" She then proceeded to explain that some time before that she had seen me in town in some store while she was out shopping and said that when she saw me she was certain I had to be LDS. I remember thinking, "Wow, even me? Even flawed, imperfect, struggling me radiates something of the Spirit and the things of the soul to others?" It was a very humbling experience and I was grateful to think if that was so, maybe I was of more value and influence to others around me in this world than I ever might have thought.

Thank you, I appreciate that. I'm glad you liked it. :)

Thanks. I'd never thought to write a Christmas poem before but yesterday I just felt compelled. As often happens when I write poetry it came quite easily after I prayed for help, so I don't ever feel I can take much credit. :)

The Gift A wooden box came tied with twine And wrapped in shredded burlap old "Within a priceless gift you'll find" The writing on a note had told I wondered what could be of worth Inside a splintered box of wood So cut the wrapping and the twine And then in silence there I stood A small and simple manger found It lined with straw of dusty mold But laid within a gift beyond The cost of gem or purest gold Twas just an old worn figurine Of porcelain dull and chipped with time But nothing could have had more worth To touch my soul with love sublime My treasures I did gently clean And place beneath a costly tree But from that moment crystal balls And shiny ribbons did not see I saw instead His perfect glow And felt His warmth beyond compare Because He came a humble babe To cleanse my sins and sorrows bear How much the world and all its things Had stripped that beauty from my sight But now once more to see and feel The splendor of His perfect light The One who gave His life for me Whose perfect love my ransom paid The humble babe of Bethlehem Who in a simple manger laid

This made me think of my uncle and his wife. He met her while in the military and stationed in Japan. When they met she could speak no English and he only knew a handful of words in Japanese, but love blossomed even without a shared language, as well as without a shared culture or faith. He was Lutheran, she was Buddhist. Upon bringing his bride to America it proved to be a very difficult cultural change and adjustment for her and also very hard for her to move so far away from her family. But, love being what it is, or can be, she was completely devoted to my uncle. Fortunately, too, my uncle adored her and did all he could to see to it that she was able to travel home to see her family as often as possible. As much as she missed them, though, she and my uncle were very happy and though America was always a foreign land to her, it became her home because it was his. They had one child, who was their world. She was killed in a car accident shortly after entering the military and then some years later my uncle passed, but his wife stayed on in America for the remainder of her life, even though she could have gone back to Japan to spend several more years of her life with her family she so missed and loved. But I don't think leaving the place her husband and daughter were buried was something she could bring herself to do either. Love truly can conquer all, but it can sometimes be a difficult road of sacrifices along the way. I don't know how to advise you on ways to discuss things with your parents, though something like Loudmouth_Mormon's simple and forthright approach sounds best. Things such as marriage, religion, and having a child move far from home can all be difficult for families to accept sometimes, though, so all of this could be challenging for you, depending on their reaction, so I'd just say be prayerful and let the Lord guide your thoughts, words, and steps. As for leaving your country, if or when you do, I would suggest maybe finding a group or organization that reflects your culture and heritage to become involved with. That can be helpful in not feeling as much loss at the changes immigrating to a new country can bring. I would also think those kinds of ties, especially if family is not accepting of one's decisions and where estrangement sometimes occurs, can help keep one from feeling so adrift, alone, or abandoned in a strange land without ties with their family or friends. P.S. The temple work has been done for my uncle, his wife, and their daughter. :)

You Just ask of me, I'll walk a mile Nay, I shall make it twain Or call to me in dark of night I'll rush to soothe your pain Awake me from the deepest sleep I'll gladly ease your fear Cry out and I will run to you However far or near You're as a golden fleece to me A chalice fine and rare A treasured stone, a costly gem A pearl beyond compare And naught could dim you in my eyes No storm could have a part No loss of fortune, weakness, flaw Could tear you from my heart No suffering I would not endure No hardship, sorrow, grief To reach, to touch, to comfort you As balm for your relief Could never look away from you Nor see you without seeing As silver thread you're woven In the fibres of my being