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What happens when you show your writing coach (Irene Sherlock) a poem

July 26, 2011 at 11:41 am
Okay, you decide. When I emailed Irene Sherlock, my writing coach, my poem, she couldn’t help herself. This is what came back. Of course, I love what she did.
You? (revert to last post for original)

Coming home

Folded in my arms
my orange cat endures
my squeezes, my
high-pitched love calls
thirty seconds longer
than he can stand.

He hasn’t seen me in days,
and his wet food
beside the refrigerator
now ant-infested.

Three days away from home
and the yellow-headed cockatiel
allows me extra smooches
on his silk gray belly

blurts his whistle-squawk,

flies to the bookshelf
when he’s had enough.

The wee parrot
with few green feathers
plays ventriloquist
from across the room,
from his tiny beak
travels

an elongated kiss
in the dark,

pokes his tiny head
from the camouflage
pup tent
dangling from
cage

ceiling

the cyan blue devil,

her beauty the only reason
she still lives here,
parrots her green brother
vying for my index finger
which she will bite
to punish me for
sharing my affection
with lesser creatures.


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Comments (3)

3 Comments »

    Amazing! I loved the ending in the first version but also really appreciated Irene’s tweaks, seconds version seems more concise. Beautiful work, both of you xoxo

    Comment by AimeeJuly 26, 2011 @ 6:32 pm

    Love it! Love first one too; different feel to each. First one was kinda ee cummings, second one more . . . I don’t know . . . Rumi?!
    Anyway, you talk pretty. Your poetry rocks. And few things are as essential in life as a good editor, eh? xoxo

    Comment by Lisa McCourtJuly 26, 2011 @ 3:40 pm

    Wow!amazing what a little “tweaking” can do!Love it! xx

    Comment by Fredda PsaltisJuly 26, 2011 @ 2:43 pm

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