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Kate Burnside

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For The Missing
by Kate Burnside

Monday, May 13, 2013
Rated "G" by the Author.
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... I guess this is a mothers' / fathers' day poem of sorts... xx


FOR THE MISSING

 

 

The past is cathedral ruins,

roofless wonder of strewn stone

inhabited by rooks of memory.

 

Here we sit in darkened corners,

rooms where even silence shudders

as it awaits the future, not knowing

whether its blazing fire will

consume surrounding forests,

or if its light’s the fragile lantern,

flickering faith of an unknown

father come to take us home.

 

Now is tailspin panic of The Lost, fear

of children who (once, in a busy street)

let go of their mother’s sleeve and

for whom tall backs of strangers

forever seize her from their gaze.

 


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Reviewed by Axilea MU 5/17/2013
Striking reflection here on hat anxious waiting that is part of human nature... anxiety and guilt define us, but also motivate our actions. Have we been abandoned by our mothers, missing her warmth in physical and metaphysical ways? Who is this father that we are all waiting for, the soothing embrace of transcendence?
Such a beautiful atmosphere in this poem, Kate, one that evokes the fragility of hope and longing and the fear and excitement of the unknown.

Axilea
Reviewed by Morgan Merriweather 5/15/2013
This could be read as are 'you" missing as you age, lose ourselves with each year moving farther away from what we may stand for or think we stand for , what we wanted to become /became. Luv the last stanza and how true that feeling is when your young and small. What have we lost as adults? I'm taken with the way you presented this Kate!
Reviewed by William Bonilla 5/15/2013
outstanding write Kate
to me to times of the past present and future
with subjects that slaps us with reality
Love & peace be with you

William
Reviewed by Andy Turner 5/14/2013
so fluent in translating emotions in each stanza. Fact from fiction. Fiction from fact, both are the transformation to truth in any situation.

Begins with the decimated ruins caused by Henry viii now such vile carnage is accepted as "ooo, must see that lovely ruin, Dolly"

Then the fragile future, The future has always seemed fragile right back to Grecian times.

- tall backs of strangers - such an artfully use of image and words - dark, yet powerful, so very powerful.

Ones mind turns to the missing street children and those that are traffiked violating every human remains of civilisation.

Much of what you first wrote was perhaps trashed just leaving the concise clarity. Of time past, ahead and present, though do we, can we ever leave the present period? xx
Reviewed by Ronald Hull 5/14/2013
Much said about the apocalyptic view of our times and the plight of children who can no longer play freely in the street without fear of abduction.

As strange as it may seem, and I haven't done any real research on the subject, I believe our children are far safer today from abduction than they ever were in the past when the media did not pounce on every missing child, there was no Internet, and no Amber alert.

Ron
Reviewed by Lily of Lough Neagh C. Dennis-Woosley 5/14/2013
Very powerful in the loss of a child...
the few we do not think about on this day
of our celebration over our happy healthy children...

Excellent reminder...


Love and Light
Lily
Reviewed by D. Vaineo 5/14/2013
Immensely enjoyed, Kate----one of your many Best!

Always,

Deborah
Reviewed by Linda Hill 5/14/2013
Kate,

Wow...I wonder about these children every day. They need our prayers.

Love and blessings,
+Linda
Reviewed by Mr. Ed 5/14/2013
Powerfully sad, Kate. (But nice to see you posting again.)
Reviewed by Ed Matlack 5/13/2013
Heavy write with deep thoughts...something to think about and allow to sink in..as well a scary posting...e
Reviewed by Amor Sabor 5/13/2013
Beautiful lines with this mysterious recollection that consumes everything and etched forever in their gaze.
Reviewed by Jon Willey 5/13/2013
Kate, we all will answer the roll call of, 'The Missing', in due time. The question,"in the fury of the moment when the fears of doubt ring out, who, who will answer?", was the emotion that came immediately into my wondering mind. There is for me a sense of resignation, closure in the emotions wending their way through this beautiful rendering. May love and peace be always with you my dear friend. Jon Michael
Reviewed by Roger Wayne Eberle 5/13/2013
much more than memorabilia here... a fuselage of recessed recollections not to be forgotten begotten of a blend between what once was and what may yet become suffused by the angst-ridden retina-held diurnal rumba we roil through day by rigorous day... tumult and turmoil, just a foretaste of forever unsung, neither heroic nor altogether banal, but most mordant malaise comes in knowing it's a bit of both worlds... (my own wet feet lap lake water from Spring's nether shores where we all miss you terribly when you're not writing, which is enough to make us cherish what you offer all the more)...
Reviewed by George Carroll 5/13/2013
As always your poetry involves more than just one reading and the core is what we face in this world where there are no longer any certainties.

George
Reviewed by Regis Auffray 5/13/2013
A deeply "involving" write that awakens thoughts and emotions, Kate. You have me thinking. Love and best wishes to you,

Regis
Reviewed by Mary Ann Biddinger 5/13/2013
~Kate~
Memory, unknown, and fear. If it light's the fragile lantern.
Enamored thoughts.

Lady Mary Ann
Reviewed by E. Phillips 5/13/2013
A glimpse of life through a dark lens leaving me to wonder "what, when, where is the moment of truth or enlightenment?" Is this the missing ending for the missing?
Reviewed by Amber Moonstone 5/13/2013
Deeply moving on this Monday morning. I shall go back to my philosophy, Always live in the present moment, let go of the past and don't worry about the future.
However, your "now" spins quite a tale to behold!

Peace love and light,
Amber
Reviewed by Budd Nelson 5/13/2013
so very sad but true
budd
Reviewed by Jerry Bolton 5/13/2013
Okay. You burnt a memory in my brain that will never go away. Taking the ruins and rotten buildings you made of the past will forever haunt you and cause you much regret. Eventually you are alone, waiting alone waiting for scripture-based hopes for a place with streets paved with gold. And there you are, young and fearless, mother's eyes are trained away from the ones who will take you away from her forever.
Reviewed by La Belle Rouge Poetess Of The Heart 5/13/2013
Deep thought Kate and emotive nuances. Well penned as always.
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