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64 years old from

The latest comments that jim has written.

Life in the nursing home by Ann Wood

You always write clearly and sincerely. My closest friend is in a home with dementia. There are no activities. It is heartbreaking.

Lion in a Hat

I think it works both ways, too. With the first line it's a little more personal, you give us an insight into what you're seeing.

Sometimes Finds Me Feeling

me too, but i could never say it so well ~

racism in villages

It comes down to individual cases.

Calf injury

I hear you. I've had many calves with injuries. They bawl for mama most pathetically.


i wonder if you knew that you would answer your own question when you began this poem.

it's a good question.


i hadn't thought of the intuition-intelligence link like this. it's interesting to think about the connection.
thank you for this.


Every child should have such memories, happy, priceless memories, each unique to their own locales.

Again, as in Miss Lucille, you've evoked a scene that feels familiar, though it was nothing like my own upbringing. It is very real. The only line that did come real for me is:

"Cowboy fantasy envisioned"

That became my reality.

Bahama Meditation

I am incredibly happy for you that you've found this blue paradise, and were able to put it into words for us. I am transported from this chilly, gray midwestern day . . . almost! I need to see it and feel it to believe it.

It's good to hear from you again. The last we heard was during a terrible, soul-shaking, storm.

Her Name is Lucille

You have brought Miss Lucille to life. If I didn't know her before, I know her now.

Tremendously evocative. I will be in the Kentucky hills next week. I will think of her.


Part of the problem is that people tend to WATCH the media, and not READ the media. They absorb, passively, what they see without critical thinking.


You write of elusive, yearning emotions with such subtlety and grace. This is poignant. It takes me to a place that feels just out of reach, to some better, perfect state of being, going from the antiseptic room to:

You want to taste the sea
inhale that scent of salt,
roll it over your tongue,
Imbibe of the earth
fresh mown grass,
the fragile one day bloom.

Just beautiful, and a little heartbreaking.

Looky kooky

Ground Control to Major LFD3, you are cleared for re-entry at your discretion.

Actually . . . may I join you?


I like this. Anyone who writes odes to ice cream is okay with me. This is well conceived and written. I like the images, and the way they reflect upon you as a person and writer. This is thoughtful without being indulgent, and the final stanza circles back to the beginning nicely. It feels complete. Well done (as always).

Women (appreciations for the Leo full moon)

I enjoyed this, and wonder if I, or any man, could write something along the same lines. I don't think so. Perhaps brothers in battle could, but nothing in my experience leads me to think there is a male equivalency, not is such sweeping terms.

Lucky you.

These lines gave me pause:

"When we hurt the feminine in ourselves
We hurt each other"

I'm not sure what is meant.


the benefits are myriad, but no more so than enjoying your flow of words.


Oh, aye—

"It is that
And more"

and yes, you were one.

After All Has Been Broken

Love is a plague disguised as bliss.

Alternative Information

you managed to write an interesting poem on truth (or lack thereof).

pace yourself, it will be a long four years. yesterday meant something, believe THAT.


maybe that is a good thing (to see only blue?) ~


Your poems reflect the light of ideas, they are unfailingly thought provoking.


A compelling expression of something very hard to express. Simple and powerful.

the news

and the moral is . . .



Times New Roman

To say this is ace is an understatement. A *tour de force* is coming closer. I am so intrigued by this, and so happy to get lost in it, and emerge—yeah, the final stanza is ace. Ace all around.

Bookmarked, obviously.

Dabo ~


Humankind is biologically meant to cycle through quickly, and in the scheme of time we do, no more that a fleeting, procreating life, then gone. Short term or long, we fail and fail again to solve problems. Ultimately, whatever the cosmos is or does will absorb the detritus that was us.

Still, we have will, and can and do solve problems, but death, that still comes despite all. Maybe Trump can make a deal with Death, I'm pretty sure I can't.

Ramblings 379

i've read this several times, now while listening to the music. it's a poem that is cryptic, though a sense of it does come through. i don't know the "horizontal" and "vertical" mean, and i'm intrigued. i do understand the last two lines, that is clear (or is it?).

Purposeful and Pure Dog Sense

Your writing conveys so much, so well, and with so much of your unique style.

These lines were powerful and timely:

"All live in accordance of harmony
When the leader remains strong"

Truly, it made me think we, all of humankind, have failed, become too complicated, too quick to willfully disregard what is good and natural.

This poem is about dogs, yes, but it, to me, is about potential—what we as a people, and we as individuals could be, or possibly can be.


This is well worth the wait, Elle—masterful and enjoyable, and all yours. Brava ~


I find this compelling. Thank you for the insight.

Hugging an Alligator

I don't know much about alligators, it was a croc that took Hook's hand, and a croc that gave Crocodile Dundee that love bite, but I do know this is a fun poem, and fair warning!


Suzanne's Dolly Gift

The gift of salvation came at five, and lasted a lifetime.

There is something wonderful in knowing this story is true, or a variation of true. It reads gently, and the rhymes give a sense of a children's story, appropriately. And then it reads like a nightmare. But the image of a 77 year old Suzanne reaching back to her five year old self is what lasts.

A Fragile World

Bleached like the coral? In my world the change is undeniable, the evidence is everywhere. Why bother to deny it, yet so many do.

Images of childhood make this even more poignant.

Autumn turn

I enjoyed this very much. Can you hear me? I'm shouting.

Happy Autumn ~

Dilli Bazaar

and what do you think of Devkota's poetry? did he get it right? is he still relevant in your world, in your life?

Thapathali Campus: A Burlesque of Life

In years and decades to come I expect you will look back at this poem as one that defines this time in your life. It is an epic recounting of a time and place, and the nature of change is in every word, and stagnation, the truth of both is apparent. the sense of change coming, for you, is strong, and this is a "looking back," poem, and equally forward looking.

the unstilted nature of you writing here is strong and honest, especially as it goes on after the first lines, gathering momentum, and ending thoughtfully. the final verse is one of sad triumph.

you separate yourself from the other students (sucking their beer bottles . . . ), and this separation, oh dear, may reveal that you really do have an artist's nature, looking in from the outside. the world needs artists, but it's hard to be the one looking in.

make sure to print this, and always keep it as a touchstone.

yet to be named

I've been reading your poems for many years now. Your voice has grown strong, you don't fool around with your words, you say it directly, and that's all to the good. It's good to see "montana" pop up again.

Take care,

weeping through the panes

There is good rain and bad rain (and purple rain, I suppose). This is the bad kind, that rains inside your mind. You've caught it perfectly. Brava!

Inside The Kingdom Of The Cheese

a little surrealism makes more sense sometimes than cold logic. I like this tearing up of reality, and reconfiguring it your way.

damn mice.

October Skies

I am not normally a fan of poetry about weather, but this is exceptionally gentle and vivid, and has caused me to rethink my prejudice on the subject.


A Rendezvous to Dine at Five

I love this, and identify as my world has "seniors" in it as well, and their youthfulness, humor, and insights making the time thoroughly pleasant.

Where did it go?

Your sense of humor and reality combine, again, to be spot on. It's always a pleasure to read your poems.



i love it!

Loose Screws

It used to be that when a screw was loose (metaphorical or otherwise), a little tightening with an ordinary screwdriver (metaphorical or otherwise) would fix it.

Now, you've got flat head, phillips head, square head, torx head, allen head, hex head—what's a body to do?

Kidding aside, robotic, unemotional limbs are no joking matter. How ones extricates themselves from such a tangle I don't know.

Wire cutters? Reverse polarity?

Good poem.


ah, you write for immortality!


One sharp image after another; again, you've put into words feelings which are usually too elusive to describe. I enjoyed both your poems today very much.

Safety Rope

The second line says so much, yet poetry is all about feelings. You describe yours very well.

The Lonely Mermaid

This is as lovely as can be, like reading a sunset.

The trick is to keep looking

i like the atmosphere, a place to be alone, whether you like it or not—a gathering of weary souls.

Twice fried Chips

I have felt the fear and relief. Your poem captures the intensity of both emotions.