Sad News

[Angeline]

There was more love in that man than the world could hold.

My heart goes out to all who knew him, who loved him, and to those who will never have the privilege...He was an incredible poet, photographer, and friend. I cannot imagine the sense of loss his family and daughter feel, or his co-workers.

The last time I heard from him was May 5th. I replied and was waiting to hear back...

The world dimmed the night we lost our Doug.

Kat

Welcome back dear lady--I'm so sorry it's for this.

 

[KatPurrs]

I still can't believe it, Angeline. It just won't sink in...

Your terzanelle is lovely. I meant to say that.

Thank you,

Kat

 

[Angeline]

I still can't believe it, Angeline. It just won't sink in...

Your terzanelle is lovely. I meant to say that.

Thank you,

Kat

 

[WickedEve]

All the poems are lovely I'm sure. I can't read them. And don't think badly of me for not writing a poem for Doug right now. I wrote Doug poetry while he was alive. He read them.
Kat, I'm sorry that this is what has brought you back here. But I am glad to be in touch with you again. The last time we emailed about Doug was 2 years ago when he was in the hospital. I remember the relief when I found him and he was going to get better and come home. We were both relieved. I miss that relief.

 

[KatPurrs]

Eve

All of the poems are wonderful, Eve. Everyone understands why you cannot write a poem for him right now. No one will think badly of you. How could we. We all have to deal with this in our own way.

Know that you are constantly in my thoughts.

Love to you and all here at Doug's "home",

Kat

 

[echoes_s]

muse confused

 

[Angeline]

Poetman

I made this for Doug months ago from a photo he sent me. When he saw it, he laughed and said "Who IS that guy."

Peace, dear Douglas.

 

[Somme]

xx's

 

[tarablackwood22]

originally posted by Angeline

____________________________________________________
I made this for Doug months ago from a photo he sent me. When he saw it, he laughed and said "Who IS that guy."

Peace, dear Douglas.
____________________________________________________

The aura of kindness that surrounds him in the picture is not surprising. It's good to have a face to go with his incredible words.

Good to see you writing and posting, Angeline.

Be well.

 

[Angeline]

originally posted by Angeline

____________________________________________________
I made this for Doug months ago from a photo he sent me. When he saw it, he laughed and said "Who IS that guy."

Peace, dear Douglas.
____________________________________________________

The aura of kindness that surrounds him in the picture is not surprising. It's good to have a face to go with his incredible words.

Good to see you writing and posting, Angeline.

Be well.

Thanks Tara.

I found that last night and wanted to share it--his sweet personality really comes across in it, I think.

 

[Debbie]

Bejewelled

Shiny tiara thou is pretty and shiny
but I find this worthless trinket more worthy
of my attention and respect.
Sentimental value is priceless
whilst a bejewelled tiara is just a
thing I place upon my head that sparkles.
Small trinket you make me smile
my heart it warms while I remember
what you mean to me.


I remember him fondly. And he was worthy of rememberance.

 

[WickedEve]

About Dogwoods -- D. Dixon
For Doug
We were rooted in friendship, deep and strong.


One o'clock twice this night. Asleep
again, awake, your name soft
in murmur. Then you are here--my dogwood,
too many dogwoods.

Yours, bitter-growth, beneath rays
of sadness, watered with why
him, my need to bend.

You were ashes when they became
sudden, without blooms. At one, I see you
on branches, full bloom, rising from white.
Those eyes.

Our roots deep, desires
branching away from loving petals.
Your eyes flower over
broken limbs, knowing, with roots.

You were never that fool.
There was never a cage.
You too were in custody of the loving branches.

 

[JCSTREET]

So many ppl we meet on the Net

could die or
disappear
forever without us
knowing, I

always ask friends to tell
someone
my name so that
if they disappear

someone will apprise me

Carl

(in business at the same address for at least the last 17 minutes)

(wishing he had some Kellogg's Corn Flakes in the House)

 

[WickedEve]

Burning Messages For The Dead

editing this poem

 

[darkmaas]

And so we talked
of skin and dentistry
of geologists
and whether plate tectonics
meant the earth did move

words unsaid
poems unread
vapours on a page
that turns before we finish...

 

[JCSTREET]

You have a fine voice

tectonics--no <h> you need to know this if you're submitting it--it's not a put down at all

And so we talked
of skin and dentistry
of geologists
and whether plate techtonics
meant the earth did move

fine metaphors--delicately and confidently deployed

Carl

 

[RazzRajen]

I read something at the end of a novel a very long time ago. I think it was a Leon Uris book and it made an impact on Me then. And I find it so valid even more so now that people I grew up with and people I have come to know along My travels, are leaving us behind and carrying on their iown travels in elsewhere and elsewhen....

" To live in the hearts of those we leave behind, is not to die."


That is all any can hope for and all I would hope to receive.


Razz

 

[annaswirls]

Another one I could not believe never got an H

Most of his poems just came out, some he really worked on, this is one he struggled with and was actually happy with the results:



the cabaret owner

oxalis

blue, a dusty Sunday morning hung over
fog and horns
shutters need raising
butts litter where dancers caroused
lifting spirits, skirts, lids,
trousers drop, there were tubas,
his minor key eyes
need sweeping.
there are few bodies buried here

green, beyond the study windows
vast square yards fescue and sod
during day lit life squinting
seeking shade, children singing
under epithermal rain

gray, dinner out of box
no more cigarettes, no wine, no TV
moon is free
cheapest entertainment
next to conversation, if you can find some
at the Cabaret

clear, missing stanza:
owner has cleaned, band is due, they are razor dressed,
kind but serpent like with messages rarely
in agreement,
dripping venom
out spit valves
blessing resolved discordance

red, they each touch him
his palm
his shoulder kneels,
walking talking, brass and wire,
weightless soft shoes
tapping
behind the bar
at the Cabaret


”salt n pepper,
keep on doin it”

 

[eagleyez]

these words reveal the lament.

good morning Anna.



reminds me of the Saul Bellow novel "More Die Of Heartbreak."

so it goes.

 

[Angeline]

I read something at the end of a novel a very long time ago. I think it was a Leon Uris book and it made an impact on Me then. And I find it so valid even more so now that people I grew up with and people I have come to know along My travels, are leaving us behind and carrying on their iown travels in elsewhere and elsewhen....

" To live in the hearts of those we leave behind, is not to die."


That is all any can hope for and all I would hope to receive.


Razz

That is a lovely quote, R., and true. Yes. True.

 

[Sweetwife]

Very sad. He was a wonderful man.

He is in our thoughts.

Sweetwood and wife

 

[Sweetwife]

people pass through our lives

gentle wind in the trees

soul-stirring words touch us

-however briefly

quiet now

 

[annaswirls]

In my life, I see forshadowing everywhere.
This poem is lovely.
I hope this is how it was for him.


smooth sailing, no resistance


no wake
by 2rivers ©

blouse up
pants remain
pass hand
down flat
find smooth sailing
into calm bay
on mellow
musky night

no resistance

 

[SeattleRain]

all of these poems make so much more sense now that I am not in any hurry to gobble them up as they come...this one makes me want to um squint a little bit and pinch the little brat right on the soft space under bicep that never gets tan, hard. Followed by tickle torture with help from some friends I know.

ceremonious

by 2rivers ©

shape and size
your hair falling across your mouth
eating it, not caring
a condiment for your feast,
roughage

sometimes laying for it
other times pulling, grabbing, throwing
masked affirmations against brick,
straw bale, rammed earth walls

physical answer
constantly missing things that would have changed my life
upset all the factors in my life, let them all know about the others
throw them all in the air and watch to see which ones scramble,
cling to my seeing eye stabbing cane
not in church with three tier pipes
foot pedals loaned out to local jazz ack ack blues junkies
making the worlds turn and flow and jig

notice the forever hum
best felt during completeness

 

[annaswirls]

Many people have said that they miss his poems. He often left poem comments as a little gift to the poet since he felt he did not know anything about poetry except how to write it.

Some have probably not been read comments left, so here is one I thought was pretty-- found under "York Road."



If I gave you a day of my own
04/22/04 by oxalis

would you chalk it up with dust
blow the filings of my life into order
cause little tornados on my mirror like coming baldness
hot from ear to hot ear
as we whispered
driving away from and straight at, full spin


~~~~~

if he gave me a day of his own, I would keep it for an hour, just to see a piece of what it was like, and then I would give it right back to him. He deserved at the very least, one more.
It isn't fair! Wah! I am immature and I don't care, I am gonna yell, It isn't FAIR! Give him BACK!!!!



harumph. I guess the universe needed a full time word smith, and he was busy doing other things too.