Gary, I want to be clear: tinywords is not a workshop site. We're looking for responses to the haiku and micropoems published here, or for polite comments. Not critiques. There are plenty of other places to critique or workshop haiku.
I am so sorry for your loss. Even without knowing a little background, I would know this is a close member of your family.
Those first two words really hit hard and yet you do something magical with the next words. Haunting, poignant, and yet oddly uplifting as we make precious of what little time any of us have left.
I disagree with Gatry Michael Dault…"prognosis" is key to the authenticity of this piece. I'm also not sure it refers to the loss of a loved one. I took it to be about a literal change in some health related journey and how that now impacts the view of the future. Either way, I love the chosen imagery. Very nice.
Thank you, Karen. Yes that word was key. This referred to events leading up to the death of my youngest sister from cancer a few months ago. Thank you for commenting.
This was powerful for me too; anyone facing serious illness of self or a loved one knows those sometimes heavy, sometimes teasing, shape-shifting clouds, and that horizon of hope … thank you.
test results conclusive still I ask the same question
I’m pleased your weighty haiku made it in the early part of the new year, where hope abounds. In all of our bright hope, there are some who traveled into it with cloud disturbances trailing.
I'm so sorry about your sister's passing, Marion. This is a beautiful and deeply touching poem. Those first two words are so powerful…and then the magic comes.
January 2nd, 2017 at 11:03 am
""prognosis" won't do.
Too clunky.
final clouds
slumbering
on the horizon.
January 2nd, 2017 at 2:14 pm
Oh, how I wish it had been as poetic as this, Gatry.
Thanks for commenting.
marion
January 2nd, 2017 at 6:11 pm
A mix of different kinds of words is effective. Prognosis is powerful.
January 3rd, 2017 at 10:27 am
Thanks for that vote of confidence, Alison.
marion
January 7th, 2017 at 2:07 pm
Hmm, yes that's prettier – but to me it doesn't doesn't express the same hard to digest emotion. It's a 'nice' view of loss, expressed by an onlooker.
January 10th, 2017 at 3:52 am
You have nailed it here, Patsy – cancer is not pretty.
marion
January 10th, 2017 at 9:26 pm
Gary, I want to be clear: tinywords is not a workshop site. We're looking for responses to the haiku and micropoems published here, or for polite comments. Not critiques. There are plenty of other places to critique or workshop haiku.
January 2nd, 2017 at 11:07 am
.
final prognosis different clouds on the horizon
—MARION CLARKE
I am so sorry for your loss. Even without knowing a little background, I would know this is a close member of your family.
Those first two words really hit hard and yet you do something magical with the next words. Haunting, poignant, and yet oddly uplifting as we make precious of what little time any of us have left.
warm regards,
Alan
January 2nd, 2017 at 2:16 pm
I love your reading, Alan. Thank you.
marion
January 2nd, 2017 at 1:46 pm
I disagree with Gatry Michael Dault…"prognosis" is key to the authenticity of this piece. I'm also not sure it refers to the loss of a loved one. I took it to be about a literal change in some health related journey and how that now impacts the view of the future. Either way, I love the chosen imagery. Very nice.
January 2nd, 2017 at 2:54 pm
Thank you, Karen. Yes that word was key. This referred to events leading up to the death of my youngest sister from cancer a few months ago. Thank you for commenting.
marion
January 3rd, 2017 at 9:42 am
I am deeply sorry for your loss…thank you for sharing your words.
January 3rd, 2017 at 10:15 am
Thank you, Karen. I miss her so much.
marion
January 2nd, 2017 at 1:56 pm
Great monostich, Marion.
January 2nd, 2017 at 2:17 pm
Thank you, Maggie – so lovely to hear from you! Thank you for commenting.
marion
January 2nd, 2017 at 2:33 pm
ice storm
chemotherapy
postponed
January 2nd, 2017 at 5:33 pm
This is so hard hitting, Sue, thank you for sharing.
marion
January 2nd, 2017 at 2:55 pm
This was powerful for me too; anyone facing serious illness of self or a loved one knows those sometimes heavy, sometimes teasing, shape-shifting clouds, and that horizon of hope … thank you.
test results conclusive still I ask the same question
January 2nd, 2017 at 5:32 pm
Thank you, Jane. There was always hope, even when the prognosis seemed bad. That's why the end result still devastated.
Sorry you experienced this. Your monostich nails it.
marion
January 2nd, 2017 at 6:10 pm
Very moving
January 3rd, 2017 at 10:27 am
Thank you, Alison.
marion
January 2nd, 2017 at 7:05 pm
I’m pleased your weighty haiku made it in the early part of the new year, where hope abounds. In all of our bright hope, there are some who traveled into it with cloud disturbances trailing.
Jan Benson
January 3rd, 2017 at 10:26 am
Thanks for your kind words, Jan. Yes, cloud disturbances trailing pretty much sums it up.
marion
January 2nd, 2017 at 7:28 pm
This one touched me deeply, as do so many of your poems, Marion. Well done.
January 3rd, 2017 at 10:16 am
That's so kind of you to say, Barbara. Thank you.
marion
January 3rd, 2017 at 6:26 am
Deeply touching. What a difference a day makes. Thank you.
January 3rd, 2017 at 10:28 am
Thanks, Karen. Indeed.
marion
January 4th, 2017 at 9:23 am
I'm so sorry about your sister's passing, Marion. This is a beautiful and deeply touching poem. Those first two words are so powerful…and then the magic comes.
January 9th, 2017 at 5:13 am
Thank you so much, Mary.
marion
January 4th, 2017 at 1:04 pm
beautiful & thought-provoking.
January 5th, 2017 at 5:39 am
Thank you, Dawn.
January 7th, 2017 at 3:02 am
Well done, Marion.
January 10th, 2017 at 3:49 am
Thanks, Patsy.
April 17th, 2017 at 2:32 am
anyone facing serious illness of self or a loved one knows those sometimes heavy
May 13th, 2017 at 7:27 am
Thank you for commenting, hoa.
marion