These poems moved me, they are beautiful, as is your grandmother. I remember the women in my family--my mother, grandmothers, aunts--whispering to each other, rocking on our front porch drinking sweaty iced tea while we children played in the grass on summer nights. I miss these women ancestors.
I am practicing English conversation, but I am still in the first grade of elementary school. I can't hear or speak. I want to know the tricks, people laugh at me because I can't hear, but I don't mind, I had fun because I was with someone who understands Japanese, and I was very happy because of that person. I was filled with gratitude. The story of the beads is mysterious, they are scattered outside, seeds grow, and are reborn. I also have a lot of beads, and I want to sow them as flower seeds. Memories of my grandmother are treasures. It brings back fond memories of those days. Thank you for the beautiful poem.
Your work sparks so many memories of my own grandmothers...children of immigrants... and the lives they lived. I shall try to do them justice in my poetry this week. Thank you for your incredible memories.
My grandmothers—both of them, I am very blessed to be able to say—gave me so much of who I am, not just in looks, but also in my love for reading and writing, my fight for my Self, and my love for humanity and the creatures of this world. I just love the joy you share in what a grandmother gives us. Thank you.
Poem written beneath the kitchen table, at grandmothers' feet, and out in the sanctuary of the yard and in the shadow of tall pines. How the story of the storytelling reminds of my grandfather taking me out to the fields and into the barn, to check on how things are, how it is our grandfathers & grandmothers who show us the world, instill, enrich us with, everlasting wonder & play in our lives. I feel the sharing of tears on grandmother's cheeks, above her wide smile, on your face, an estuarial longing in my heart.
just wonderful.
Perfect 🙏
Who would I be without the tender love my grandmothers bestowed upon me?
Re: "Sometimes, the most sacred spaces are those that exist between words."
Wonderful, and eminently quotable!
Oh my gosh I just love the tenderness of these poems.
Those last two stanzas on the last poem. YES! Wonderful.
These poems moved me, they are beautiful, as is your grandmother. I remember the women in my family--my mother, grandmothers, aunts--whispering to each other, rocking on our front porch drinking sweaty iced tea while we children played in the grass on summer nights. I miss these women ancestors.
I am practicing English conversation, but I am still in the first grade of elementary school. I can't hear or speak. I want to know the tricks, people laugh at me because I can't hear, but I don't mind, I had fun because I was with someone who understands Japanese, and I was very happy because of that person. I was filled with gratitude. The story of the beads is mysterious, they are scattered outside, seeds grow, and are reborn. I also have a lot of beads, and I want to sow them as flower seeds. Memories of my grandmother are treasures. It brings back fond memories of those days. Thank you for the beautiful poem.
Thank you. Your work is amazing. I enjoyed all your poems.
Your work sparks so many memories of my own grandmothers...children of immigrants... and the lives they lived. I shall try to do them justice in my poetry this week. Thank you for your incredible memories.
Beautiful. Thank you b
"I think
she wanted
me to learn
that you can't tell
your own stories
if you haven't
participated
in your own life."
What a gift. Thank you for sharing this.
😂
“Tamales of Self-Protection” could be an 8th-level spell in the limited run Dungeons and Dragons Mexican edition.
Hahahahahhahahahahahahahaaha
My grandmothers—both of them, I am very blessed to be able to say—gave me so much of who I am, not just in looks, but also in my love for reading and writing, my fight for my Self, and my love for humanity and the creatures of this world. I just love the joy you share in what a grandmother gives us. Thank you.
Thank you, Rachael.
Poem written beneath the kitchen table, at grandmothers' feet, and out in the sanctuary of the yard and in the shadow of tall pines. How the story of the storytelling reminds of my grandfather taking me out to the fields and into the barn, to check on how things are, how it is our grandfathers & grandmothers who show us the world, instill, enrich us with, everlasting wonder & play in our lives. I feel the sharing of tears on grandmother's cheeks, above her wide smile, on your face, an estuarial longing in my heart.
This is a lovely response. Thank you, Phillip.
So moving. So compelling. Mmmm. My soul has been filled. Thank you so much for sharing.
Thank you, Mario.