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Tactile Requiem
| Open Poetry #40 |
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Tactile Requiem |
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart 
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A woman of vivid past, having read a simple book, thought enough of it to write its author; and in doing so, two unfamiliar lives were renewed in kind, two lives’ passages, reviewed in new, through longhand cursive, fine, and true, with technology undeserved. The reader kindly sent her author snippets of thought, ideas, springboards for potential poems, and better yet, she forwards an unconditional understanding. T’was a heady scent, warm fingertips absorbed hint of forest, memories became limned in darkest green, with graphite black, and oh, the magic of tip to paper, white sheets, yellow pads, and even so, brown bags; where Number Two lead is imperial and dark, submitting the mind to material, where education, slated, slides up or down a scale, not equating to any nervous stomach, or sleight of hand. Pink erasers, silent prayers to never have need to smudge a line, as right or left hand learns an ease when a mis-drawn line requires a fine touch, some spare hint of grace, hoping another line will bury an earlier mistake. No. 1 pencils, finer line, easier to remove a thought, a hint of emotion, a sense of pride, but still, it has its own heady scent, warm feel between fingertips and thumb, ready to make its mark in time, and the art of underscore. My pencil, my life, my blood spilled forth in black cursive, as a teacher monitored my rounds, loops, m’s and n’s, o’s, her eyes following lines of p’s and q’s down to lines of demarcation, when she smiled, nodded approval, whispered in my ear, keep it up, for there is a writing contest at the end of the year. Mastering the art of k was the hardest, r followed in difficulty, for there was a need for something beautiful and sensitive, to underscore. My pencil drew my teachers near to me, my cursive curled around their hearts, and a Number Two pencil, slick orange paint topped by a pink, almost untouched eraser, smelling of forests and graphite, which would stain my fingertips just so, that at night, when in bed, trying to sleep, I could bring the tip of my fingers to my nose, and, with a tired breath, breathe in tomorrow. Thus, the gift of a newspaper clipping, from reader to writer, a simple remark, a prayer, perhaps, that stated, “Bet you have a poem for this!” And I do. Where’s my pencil and yellow pad? ~*~ Thank you, Eilleen H., for the inspiration. © Karilea Rilling Jungel May 1, 2007 " It matters not this distance now " Excerpt, Yesterday's Love ~*~ KRJ |
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| © Copyright 2007 Karilea Rilling Jungel - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Alicat Member Elite
since 1999-05-23
Posts 4094Coastal Texas |
Very nicely done, Sunshiny one. This work granted brief, albeit forgotten, memories of young schools where #2 ruled. And Crayola, but we shan't speak of them as eloquently. And yes, though I personally enjoyed slightly the scent of wood and coal, my true love was ink. And I miss it muchly...that dusky scent scrawled mayhaps haphazardly across brisk tree-pulp canvasi. Such a heady scent, and one this forced southpaw misses. |
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The Lady Member Rara Avis
since 2005-12-26
Posts 7634The Southwest |
and thank you Karilea for this exquisite piece of work so much treasure |
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iliana Member Patricius
since 2003-12-05
Posts 13434USA |
SIL, I haven't been around much lately (as you probably know). Tonight, I just wanted to take a peak and I am so glad I did. This is tactile! So expressively that you took me back to the 5th grade when writing was an art and we were graded on neatness, as well as content. I love handwriting -- I am a calligrapher -- or at least I earned my living that way for a couple of years in between jobs after leaving the legal field. Beautiful handwriting is a dying art. I'm thankful that putting together beautiful prose and poetry is not. Much enjoyed this penning. *hugs*....jo |
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latearrival Member Ascendant
since 2003-03-21
Posts 5499Florida |
I appreciate this for an entirely different reason. I have always had dificulty writing a fine script and yet I wrote endless letters since fifth grade to many friends and pen pals. I had a very small hand writing but it was legible. Teachers wanted me to write larger and in doing so the writing became a scrawl. I also tend to write fast and the faster thoughts came to mind the sloppier the writing. I was a candidate for penmanship classes but no one ever suggested this. I rewrote and rewrote but never was able to write one whole paper without making mistakes. Thanks to the computer I can write now. But I think the hand written letter can not be surpassed to show appreciation and love. So to those who have a fine script, I am one wh appreciates reading such. martyjo |
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miscellanea Member Elite
since 2004-06-24
Posts 4060OH |
Sunshine, I just had to peek in here to say, "Hello!" I read your first poem with a smile on my face, imagining the delight the author would have when receiving the note! As I looked at the time, I realized I'd better not read the second yet. I'll bop back here when able. Great to hear from you again! misce |
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Earth Angel Member Empyrean
since 2002-08-27
Posts 40215Realms of Light |
...SAVED faster than you can say "Wooden Pencils"!!! You are an absolutely amazing poet and you touch me deeply with every poem of yours that I have had the pleasure of reading. I adore this beautifully nostalgic poem on every possible level. Thanks for the memories!  Love & Sun Light, Linda |
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Gentle Spirit Member Patricius
since 2000-10-09
Posts 13989 |
ah lady....you have written a treasure in these words....Very Nicley done!!! |
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Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049California |
Sissie...You already know the pencils of my childhood, knawed on until they were a part of my breath. I love the kindness of your touch to yours...the flow so perfectly graceful.  |
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secondhanddreampoet Member Ascendant
since 2006-11-07
Posts 6394a 'Universalist' ! |
EXCELLENT! I find the following particularly fine!: "My pencil drew my teachers near to me, my cursive curled around their hearts, and a Number Two pencil, slick orange paint topped by a pink, almost untouched eraser, smelling of forests and graphite, which would stain my fingertips just so, that at night, when in bed, trying to sleep, I could bring the tip of my fingers to my nose, and, with a tired breath, breathe in tomorrow." I especially LOVE: "smelling of forests and graphite" MUCH applause!! |
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JL Member Ascendant
since 2004-04-01
Posts 6128Texas, USA |
You are a wonderful writer indeed… JL  Thomas, because thou hast seen me, thou hast believed: |
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SmartChick Member Rara Avis
since 2001-09-23
Posts 7081On A Journey To The Unknown |
A fantastic piece of work, Karilea. You are such an inspiration to us. Especially me! |
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paullallady Member
since 2007-04-03
Posts 262Michigan |
What a wonderful poem about simplicity and the beauty of things that have been set aside, for not necessarily better things. |
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LeeJ Member Patricius
since 2003-06-19
Posts 13296 |
I'm so happy to have found this and you...absolutely stunning....you have wowed me! This is truly a marvelous read...thank you for sharing. |
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