I adore this poem. (Full disclosure: I also adore my husband, the poet who wrote it!). 🥰 I do believe this is one of your very best. Somehow you are able to capture such personal feelings yet make them universally understandable & relatable. I think this is what makes you a great writer; your work is accessible. This piece, in particular, manages to span the scope of your childhood, through your career right up to retirement & beyond. It chokes me up every time. It is truly a treasure. 💝
Sitting up here in Maine, on an island in this big hurricane Lee, water pouring down the picture windows and the twelve foot length of sliding doors. I did not expect to be crying this morning but that damn poem has chiseled away at me for 15 years since I wrote it. I hesitated posting it because I knew it would haunt me again like it did when it first arrived. I miss that dog every single day, he was such a love. More tears. Truly pathetic fallacy.
Wes, If you can, please take comfort in having reached others so deeply that they not only felt that bond and the love you had (and still have) but vexperienced the loss of a companion who connected more intensely with them and vividly remembered.
Swallowing hard here thinking both of the wrenching loss but also of the beauty of the gift they are.
The rain can’t help on those haunted islands, Wes. It’s beautiful here, but can feel it.
Just read through again and not one thing to add now to previous comments. Your Laurie says what is absolutely true. The words make sense to everyone reading it while you tell us what’s inside your heart. What facility you have to gather us into those places you take us.
Patris, At some point in January/February I want to start some kind of Zoom thing with 1/2 dozen other poets/substack people. Maybe meet once a week for an hour. One of us might start things out by reading a favorite poem from another poet, dead or not. Then someone else would share, by both print and reading, a poem they are working on. The rest of us offer suggestions. Let me know what you think about the format- the Zoom part, the readings, the size, the point of it. Wes
Thanks Malcom. I remember one of those books. We used a small 1/8" round gouge chisel to peel back a curl, which stayed in place while we set the trim nail and then glued it back. We usually had to tape it down while the wood glue set. This was for stain grade trim, not the paint stuff.
Well, you know how to make a man's day. Thank you for all of that. I wrote that about 15 years ago and when it was done, almost complete in its first writing, it had that effect on me, the tears, the wave of emotion. I have avoided emotion but these damn poems just keep coming and prying at my clam hinges. Aagh.
Losing that dog was one of the hardest moments of my life, he was such an exqusite creature, the very embodiment of love. I cry now remembering sweet Duff and our lovely walks, our 11-1/2 years together. He connected to every single person he met.
I adore this poem. (Full disclosure: I also adore my husband, the poet who wrote it!). 🥰 I do believe this is one of your very best. Somehow you are able to capture such personal feelings yet make them universally understandable & relatable. I think this is what makes you a great writer; your work is accessible. This piece, in particular, manages to span the scope of your childhood, through your career right up to retirement & beyond. It chokes me up every time. It is truly a treasure. 💝
How deeply felt this is. Created as you must build your creations of wood - and as lovingly as that sweet pup. Truly beautiful.
Sitting up here in Maine, on an island in this big hurricane Lee, water pouring down the picture windows and the twelve foot length of sliding doors. I did not expect to be crying this morning but that damn poem has chiseled away at me for 15 years since I wrote it. I hesitated posting it because I knew it would haunt me again like it did when it first arrived. I miss that dog every single day, he was such a love. More tears. Truly pathetic fallacy.
What a lovely and personal story told in a poem filled with kindness.
thanks Arjan.
Wes, If you can, please take comfort in having reached others so deeply that they not only felt that bond and the love you had (and still have) but vexperienced the loss of a companion who connected more intensely with them and vividly remembered.
Swallowing hard here thinking both of the wrenching loss but also of the beauty of the gift they are.
The rain can’t help on those haunted islands, Wes. It’s beautiful here, but can feel it.
I love this Poem written with a lot of log and good memories!
Thank you Bette, we carpenters do love our logs. Ha!
Just read through again and not one thing to add now to previous comments. Your Laurie says what is absolutely true. The words make sense to everyone reading it while you tell us what’s inside your heart. What facility you have to gather us into those places you take us.
Patris, At some point in January/February I want to start some kind of Zoom thing with 1/2 dozen other poets/substack people. Maybe meet once a week for an hour. One of us might start things out by reading a favorite poem from another poet, dead or not. Then someone else would share, by both print and reading, a poem they are working on. The rest of us offer suggestions. Let me know what you think about the format- the Zoom part, the readings, the size, the point of it. Wes
I think the point of it is perfect, Wes.
How lovely to hear, since that is always my goal. Thanks Patris.
My grandfather left me his set of Audel's carpentry books.
I remember something like "cut a small slice of the trim piece, carefully peel it back, set the nail, and glue the slice back over the nailhead. "
You have as carefully caressed your poem to a fine finish.
Be well
Thanks Malcom. I remember one of those books. We used a small 1/8" round gouge chisel to peel back a curl, which stayed in place while we set the trim nail and then glued it back. We usually had to tape it down while the wood glue set. This was for stain grade trim, not the paint stuff.
I have blooded my thumb with a 20oz framing hammer.
If it had a waffle head, it was always bad.
Glancing luckily
Written by a man who found love at an early age and continues to build life with his heart. Well done, Wes, well done!
Thanks a lot Paul.
I love the narration!
Beautiful poem! And what a strong ending!
some might say a very quiet ending... and thank you
Yes, well, quiet can mean strong in art.
You are so right
and that is why I have written smoochy poems.
Well, you know how to make a man's day. Thank you for all of that. I wrote that about 15 years ago and when it was done, almost complete in its first writing, it had that effect on me, the tears, the wave of emotion. I have avoided emotion but these damn poems just keep coming and prying at my clam hinges. Aagh.
Losing that dog was one of the hardest moments of my life, he was such an exqusite creature, the very embodiment of love. I cry now remembering sweet Duff and our lovely walks, our 11-1/2 years together. He connected to every single person he met.