Wow, Diane! You really ARE processing well your dealing with your half-brother's situation. I trust that all three of you will find closure as you deal, hopefully together, with this great difficulty. My prayers are with you. At first I thought you'd totally missed the point of what 'blank verse' is... but when I read it through I was amazed at the flow of this, although you didn't arrange what you'd done 'correctly' on the page (formatting). For the most part you have iambic heptameter [ 7 daDUMs ], and you're VERY consistent with it. I've reformatted it here, making a few 'corrections' AND indicating some places where there are missing feet [da DUMs] in a few lines, which I've indicated with [ / / ] - each slash indicating a missing foot. This is really an excellent piece, Diane, especially in light of your saying it only took a short while to produce. I've been VERY impressed with what I've seen from your pen of late, my friend! diehard wrote on Sep 23rd, 2009 at 5:54pm:
Heavy on my mind
A brother and a half have I
and both of them are rich
in talent just as in ego.
Well yes, they’ve money, too.
The half one isn’t half at all
the whole one’s not so whole
and each of them, so full of self,
sport shoulders full of chips:
Oh “he said this” and long ago
the other walked away and each one closed the door
as well as mind and heart. Each thought “You need not contact me,
for I have friends (which you are not) and others who respect
the worth of such as I.” Each one proclaimed the other lacked
civility or sense or what comprises “right”.
It’s sad today how easily the unimportant climbs
to pinnacles, to point of focus, far from matters true.
When rage and anger’s kin block out the routes alternative
of patience, or just “count to ten”, or “what’s behind this?” view.
I’ve written this today because the brother whole implodes
at provocations minimal, and fury-full, strikes out responding to
my disagreeing with his point of view. It’s not so much his boldface
type or tone that worries me, but that this too short time we have
invective-full will kill what chances that we have, as three, the last of
living sibs, to say goodbye in wiser words, to reach out with a sense
of “okay, then, you had the right to be just who you are, and different, I
my thing did do, and he went his way too. “
So one of us is old and gay and one of us a crone and one of us
will need to know he’s not the only one who cares that family unites
before that enemy the scyther-guy, the reaper king laughs darkly at us all.
The older that we get we know we’re closer to the edge of what’s out there
for anyone, and fear is not of that. The fear or dread is in the now, the facing
up to facts: we’re given kin to know ourselves, we’re none of us perfect.
We’ll die. But let us do so, please, with such a sense that we did all we could
to be what we’d be proud of when we fly,
there at that edge
take off
with full-face smile as wings.
Carver 09/23/09 Heavy on my mind
A brother and a half have I[,] and both of them are rich
in talent just as in ego. Well yes, they’ve money, too.
The half one isn’t half at all[;] the whole one’s not so whole
and each of them, so full of self, sport[s] shoulders full of chips:
Oh “he said this” and long ago the other walked away
and each one closed the door as well as [ / / ] mind and heart.
Each thought “You need not contact me, for I have friends (which you
are not) and others who respect the worth of such as I.”
Each one proclaimed the other lacked civility or sense
or what comprises “right” [ / / / / / / / / ].
It’s sad today how easily the unimportant climbs
to pinnacles, to point of focus, far from matters true.
When rage and anger’s kin block out the route[']s alternative
of patience, or just “count to ten”, or “what’s behind this?” view.
I’ve written this today because the brother whole implodes
at provocations minimal, and fury-full, strikes out
responding to my disagreeing with his point of view.
It’s not so much his boldface type or tone that worries me,
but that this too short time we have invective-full will kill
what chances that we have, as three, the last of living sibs,
to say goodbye in wiser words, to reach out with a sense
of “okay, then, you had the right to be just who you are,
and different, I my thing did do, and he went his way too.“
So one of us is old and g[r]ay[,] and one of us a crone[,]
and one of us will need to know he’s not the only one
who cares that family unites before that enemy
the scyther-guy, the reaper king laughs darkly at us all.
The older that we get we know we’re closer to the edge
of what’s out there for anyone, and fear is not of that.
The fear or dread is in the now, the facing up to facts:
we’re given kin to know ourselves, we’re none of us perfect.
We’ll die. But let us do so, please, with such a sense that we
did all we could to be what we’d be proud of when we fly,
there at that edge take off with [ / / ] full-face smile as wings. deLightingly, Daniel 
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Blank Verse ~ FOM Sep 09 (Read 224 times)
