Monthly Archives: July 2016

Poet Lost – A Found Poem

We have lost a poet, a friend. Viv Blake, known to most as Viv In France, was a regular at many of the online Poetry forums. She was a regular contributor of fine poetry, and a dedicated reader of other poets work. She was one of the first to follow me here, and if I look at my stats page she sits at the top as my most frequent commenters, by a large margin. Always polite, always encouraging, forever finding a positive thing to say, even when it was clear she was less than enthused. She was also my most dedicated proofreader, making sure any mistake I made did not linger and cause me embarrassment.

I did not know her well enough to write anything for her, or about her, but there are pages upon pages in my comments with her name attached. I have created a found poem of her words. The following consists only of comments she has left on my work, and I think there is a kernel of her there. I hope she would find it worthy of stopping by. Goodbye Viv, you will be missed.

In Viv’s Words

Your memories make a sublime poem,
I just wish it wasn’t so real.

I know that feeling. Halfway between awe and shivering.

I like all your shelves of books and photos – we seekers need them to feed us.
I love this one.
This one brought a lump to my throat –
not a word wasted.
A story which is greater than the few words which contain it,
Poignant but beautiful. No regrets,
not a word wasted,
we mustn’t let those memories disappear.
I thank God that there are still books to be read.

I share your despair
at this unfair world.
I can only ask: Where
will it end?
Keep your chin up.

I would weep for a fallen oak,
loving and calm,
waiting for warmth, for renaissance,
to start living again.
When the cherry blossom falls in April,
I experience a similar lightening of spirit.
There are enough problems in this life
without spoiling the pleasures with guilt.
So glad I don’t live in a city!

Sad to say, this is profoundly true,
I can’t pretend that I care what happens to my ashes,
but the children assure us that it matters to them.
A sad truth, your last line will stay with me.

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July 4, 2016

Expressed in ​American Sentences

Independent no more, the freedoms of our founding are forsaken.

Celebrating with no respect for meaning; the fireworks are nice though. 

Politicians speak of greatness, tomorrow they will trample freedom.

Our President the globalist, no evidence of national pride.

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