Yes! Entirely. I loved the idea of it, and I thought it was sound when I finished the first draft, but rereading it felt so empty. Realizing that it described something instead of expressing the feeling of it changed my approach completely.
I do remember many wonderful car camping adventures. They bring up such longing. I continue to love the idea of throwing camping gear in the car and taking off for a long weekend. This poem brought up that deep longing and a pensive heart. Your poetic wanderings are often felt with instant connection and head nodding affirmation of meaning. Differently this piece caused more befuddlement, rather inner searching for me. It wasn’t a challenge of your experience or meaning. It caused an inner pause and inner wandering, taking me to a place sitting “there” wanting/ desiring to be just there, discovering something still waited for. Make sense? Not sure. Memories of our family camping are treasures perhaps too guarded. I find I’m wondering if they’re really mine. Like artifacts one keeps, without really having them. Oh, now really getting nonsensical. Yet there I am still sitting by the stump, desiring…
Yes, let’s go camping some more; me and “my guys,” building fires, multitude of stars, skipping rocks, yummy pancakes, long talks…
Lovely! “What was guarded was never owned” - Yes! Do you subscribe to Dan Boivin’s Shy Guy Meets the Buddha? His last piece on the nature of self was pretty brilliant
I’ve reread The Hollow several times over the last couple of days.. trying to pinpoint what it is about your words, besides the rippling soft cascade of them, that keep me doing so, Glen.
The image of the hollow place open with remnants of what had been a viable living thing that had dwelled in that space before it left…that is what keeps speaking to me.
I find your words vesper soft and perfectly spare eliciting the memory of the life that the hollow sheltered ..speaking to a presence still felt/aspects of it still seen despite absence …personally meaningful.
This is a beautiful poem.
As you can see my words are completely clumsy disjointed musings…made clumsier still because I might be totally missing the intent of your poem…but I am going to leave them…as they lay…
because I had promised you earlier to come back and I didn’t want you to think that I had forgotten.
Interesting how re-reading stirs up old memories “wrapped in reason”. And how subsequent writing can help peel off the layers.
Yes! Entirely. I loved the idea of it, and I thought it was sound when I finished the first draft, but rereading it felt so empty. Realizing that it described something instead of expressing the feeling of it changed my approach completely.
See… what I mean?
Listening and rereading yet again. Here I am, weeping, cherishing an open broken heart. There said it.
Love you!
Many re-readings
Poem and backstory
I’m still sitting
Beside the stump
Feeling into the hollow space
Listening
Waiting
Wondering
Desiring to remember
Love you, Mom!
So many memories of Paul M. Dimmick campground coming up lately. 🤷
Do you get some of those?
I do remember many wonderful car camping adventures. They bring up such longing. I continue to love the idea of throwing camping gear in the car and taking off for a long weekend. This poem brought up that deep longing and a pensive heart. Your poetic wanderings are often felt with instant connection and head nodding affirmation of meaning. Differently this piece caused more befuddlement, rather inner searching for me. It wasn’t a challenge of your experience or meaning. It caused an inner pause and inner wandering, taking me to a place sitting “there” wanting/ desiring to be just there, discovering something still waited for. Make sense? Not sure. Memories of our family camping are treasures perhaps too guarded. I find I’m wondering if they’re really mine. Like artifacts one keeps, without really having them. Oh, now really getting nonsensical. Yet there I am still sitting by the stump, desiring…
Yes, let’s go camping some more; me and “my guys,” building fires, multitude of stars, skipping rocks, yummy pancakes, long talks…
Lovely! “What was guarded was never owned” - Yes! Do you subscribe to Dan Boivin’s Shy Guy Meets the Buddha? His last piece on the nature of self was pretty brilliant
Thank you, Eric. I think that was the only line that survived from the original poem. That's the core of it.
Yes, I do subscribe to Dan's newsletter; however, I haven't read his latest piece. I'll check it out. Thank you! Is it the "I'm Nobody, Who Are you?"
I like it!!
Thanks, Lorin 😊
So many thoughts .. too wordy .. so I will drop only one reaction to your work .. “beautiful”
Thank you, Kat. 🙏
I would so love to read your “too wordy” thoughts if you care to share. 😊
Then I will, Glen, in a more studied way upon my return from the rat race I’m about to step out into here lol
Peace to you 😊
Good luck in the race with those rats. And watch out for the ones that bite and scratch. 😉
Peace to you. 🙏
I’ve reread The Hollow several times over the last couple of days.. trying to pinpoint what it is about your words, besides the rippling soft cascade of them, that keep me doing so, Glen.
The image of the hollow place open with remnants of what had been a viable living thing that had dwelled in that space before it left…that is what keeps speaking to me.
I find your words vesper soft and perfectly spare eliciting the memory of the life that the hollow sheltered ..speaking to a presence still felt/aspects of it still seen despite absence …personally meaningful.
This is a beautiful poem.
As you can see my words are completely clumsy disjointed musings…made clumsier still because I might be totally missing the intent of your poem…but I am going to leave them…as they lay…
because I had promised you earlier to come back and I didn’t want you to think that I had forgotten.