"Mutual Admiration" by Anna Rose Bain‘A New Life’ and Other Poetry by Dusty Grein The Society May 30, 2019 Beauty, Culture, Humor, Poetry 18 Comments A New Life an English ode With the blending of two souls, in a dance as old as time a spark ignites, and a cell divides; a baby—hers and mine. Conceived in a moment of utter joy, a new and shining life begins to make it’s presence known deep inside my wife. Soon the little flutters start as miniature muscles twitch; the first kicks then are seen and felt causing skin to stretch and itch. The mystery is half the fun. A girl? A boy? Who knows? A healthy baby’s all we want and pray for as it grows. Watching as her tummy swells and trying out new names; Awaiting for new life to come but not the labor pains! How Small We Are an American trijan refrain Our Mother Earth—in blue-green gown— on whom we all depend, with rain will wash, and surf will pound; our sins she’ll slowly mend. As rivers flow toward distant seas, from human stains they will be free. __As rivers flow, __as rivers flow, so do the tears I weep for thee. In nature wonders still abound, despite the filth we send into her heart, she still astounds; her beauty knows no end. As breezes blow around the lee of rocks and stones, she laughs with glee! __As breezes blow, __as breezes blow, her hidden strength becomes the key. Her ageless wisdom can be found in stem and leaf and tree, while man’s great works will be worn down; gone in mere centuries. As forests grow above the scree, so do her mountains from the sea; __as forests grow, __as forests grow, she will, when we’re but memory. Season’s End a Welsh awdl gywydd (involving syllabic verse) Slowly fades the winter sun; __color’s done, now comes the gray. Darkness, painted on the snow— __shadows grow, and edges fray. Lifetime’s worth of memories __on cold breezes start to play; sepia hued monochrome; __faded tones of yesterday. Long before I was alone— __still unknown, the loneliness I’ve lived with since you had to go; __I didn’t know how I was blessed. In the springtime, we were young; __songs we’d sung, the sun above shone down on us from the sky, __flying high on wings of love. Summer found us dancing strong __Days were long and sun was bright Our family began to bloom __Beneath the moon, you held me tight. In the autumn we enjoyed __girls and boys—our grandkids all filled our lives with wondrous glee; __a strong tree, no longer small. Sadness as the seasons turned, when we learned you’d soon be gone. You faced the end, strong and brave; love you gave, second to none. Now grows darkest ebony, __calling me to you again; Missing you for days untold, __I’ve grown old, with wrinkled skin. Here I sit, end drawing near . . . __soon my dear, I’ll be with you. As the sun slips from the sky, __my goodbyes fade into blue. Dusty Grein is a poet, novelist, editor, and book producer. His written work has been published in numerous magazines, books, as well as print and online journals. He has had poetry translated into several languages worldwide, is the co-author of a book on crafting classical poetry, and his How To articles can be found reprinted in several locations. Dusty lives, works, and plays in the Pacific Northwestern United States. There he enjoys spending his time, whenever possible, spoiling many of his 14 grandchildren, before sending them back home to their parents. NOTE: The Society considers this page, where your poetry resides, to be your residence as well, where you may invite family, friends, and others to visit. Feel free to treat this page as your home and remove anyone here who disrespects you. Simply send an email to firstname.lastname@example.org. Put “Remove Comment” in the subject line and list which comments you would like removed. The Society does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or comments and reserves the right to remove any comments to maintain the decorum of this website and the integrity of the Society. Please see our Comments Policy here. Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window)Click to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) 18 Responses Alexander Ream May 30, 2019 Excellent, lovely, surpassing very much commentary on my part. Reply Dusty Grein May 30, 2019 Thank you Alexander. Reply Sally Cook May 30, 2019 Both heartfelt and accomplished, Reply Dusty Grein May 30, 2019 Thanks Sally. I think the best pieces come from the heart, and only get a slight filtering by the head. Reply Joe Tessitore May 30, 2019 Poetry at its’ best! Reply Dusty Grein May 30, 2019 Thank you Joe. Yours is the kind of comment that brings joy to an old poet’s heart. I truly like these three together, because they encompass the cycle of life—and they span time, geography, and culture in form and style. Reply Joseph S. Salemi May 30, 2019 In the last quatrain of the first poem, don’t use “tummy.” It is silly and puerile, and it spoils the entire effect of the piece as a whole. Say “full womb” or something else dignified. Reply Dusty Grein May 30, 2019 Thanks for the comment Joseph. The poem was originally a children’s piece, written for my unborn daughter, and I did modify it to read less like a child’s poem, for publication here. I suppose I could have changed the word tummy, but—in my mind at least—it is the perfect word for discussing pregnancy with little ones, who are at their best when a little silly. Reply David Paul Behrens May 30, 2019 You have some very good poetry here. Well done. Reply Dusty Grein May 31, 2019 Thank you. I really enjoyed crafting all of these. Reply C.B. Anderson May 30, 2019 Dusty, some interesting forms here of which I haven’t heard before. I don’t mind overly sentimental verse, but be careful where you send it. There is no sentiment as sweet as that enjoyed when a baby is in the oven. Sometimes I wish I could have felt it more than just twice. Here is what I think might be the ultimate poem on this topic: http://www.storyit.com/Classics/JustPoems/babydear.htm Reply Dusty Grein May 31, 2019 Thanks C.B. – I agree that not all poems fit well into all venues. I love that this particular forum exists, to share our creative classical forms, and read some amazing poems by the all the eclectic contributors. The forms here span the world, and I love exploring as many different cultural and historical styles as possible. Reply Eric Martell May 30, 2019 Hey, Dusty, Found you on Whatfinger. Way to go! Eric Martell Reply Dusty Grein May 31, 2019 Thanks, Dr. M! That is crazy, but kind of cool. I love that SCP gets extra exposure, and while I have a lot of poetry on the site here, this set is one of my favorites. Reply David Watt May 31, 2019 The wonder of Life: fragile, yet enduring, has been expressed beautifully. Reply Dusty Grein May 31, 2019 Thank you David. I’m glad that theme came through. Reply James Sale May 31, 2019 I particularly like How Small We Are – it has a lovely, wistful effect, and the repetitions in the last three lines of each stanza are very haunting. Well done. Good to see such work. Reply Dusty Grein May 31, 2019 Thank you James. The trijan form can create powerful statements with those repeating refrain lines. The form itself is supposed to have all three verses begin with a refrained line as well, but I am nothing if not original—and slightly askew. Reply Leave a Reply to Eric Martell Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.