tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029797379711350813.post7122328399756407948..comments2024-03-29T06:02:33.720-07:00Comments on the prowling Bee: It would never be Common - more - I said -Susan Kornfeldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05384011972647144453noreply@blogger.comBlogger8125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029797379711350813.post-6365463680035845532023-07-16T07:05:28.064-07:002023-07-16T07:05:28.064-07:00It’s over. We had our bitter differences, but I’d ...It’s over. We had our bitter differences, but I’d trade that anyday for “Such bliss - had I - for all the years -”; “I walked - as wings - my body bore -”, “I dowered - all the World –”.<br /><br />But “suddenly - my Riches shrank -, A Goblin - drank my Dew -”. “I clutched at sounds –, I groped at shapes -, I felt the Wilderness roll back”.<br /><br />And now,<br /><br />“The Sackcloth - hangs upon the nail -, The Frock I used to wear -, But where my moment of Brocade -, My - drop - of India?” Not even a memento have I left, in memory of those yesterdays.<br /><br />Bipolar? Maybe. <br /><br />Abandoned? She has said as much. <br /><br />Wishing Wadsworth were still on her side of North America? Loud and clear here and in poems past (see comments, F310, F344) and, no doubt, more to come.<br />Larry Bhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02810899482852120751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029797379711350813.post-64157432749161958812023-07-14T18:41:17.937-07:002023-07-14T18:41:17.937-07:00This comment has been removed by the author.Larry Bhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02810899482852120751noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029797379711350813.post-27152899910676404862022-08-17T19:51:34.370-07:002022-08-17T19:51:34.370-07:00I think the sackcloth is her white dress, the one ...I think the sackcloth is her white dress, the one she wore once she devoted herself to poetry. Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029797379711350813.post-48445497739047943192022-08-17T18:52:38.815-07:002022-08-17T18:52:38.815-07:00Me too Me too Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029797379711350813.post-57706552581476841672020-08-12T18:46:26.777-07:002020-08-12T18:46:26.777-07:00Ach! I wrote 'boos' instead of 'boot&#...Ach! I wrote 'boos' instead of 'boot' to birds...<br />Corrected now and makes a lot more sense.Susan Kornfeldhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05384011972647144453noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029797379711350813.post-2048866685386615912020-08-12T18:45:54.881-07:002020-08-12T18:45:54.881-07:00Yeah, I imagine someone who experiences bipolar sy...Yeah, I imagine someone who experiences bipolar symptoms could identify with this poem pretty well.Susan Kornfeldhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05384011972647144453noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029797379711350813.post-76410528417871176352020-08-09T07:31:21.968-07:002020-08-09T07:31:21.968-07:00Aside from the biographical details that might sug...Aside from the biographical details that might suggest specificities, was there ever a clearer and more devastating picture of bipolar - the depressive then manic then depressive phases?Pphttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01023162636086533197noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4029797379711350813.post-4338153299676593342015-02-14T06:40:16.360-08:002015-02-14T06:40:16.360-08:00I read this as her relationship with inspiration i...I read this as her relationship with inspiration itself that leads her to write Gold to every Creature, and how, when it goes away she is bereft, yet still tries to clutch at sounds.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com