The blue needle

I can feel this one... weaving itself... like silken threads, blending with my heart strings. And your poem's silken threads... have a lovely voice. Raven

Sometimes, only a few lines from a poem hit you hard, but a rare few have an wholesome efect. The entire poem transits you to a state. I like this very much. I've been pricked by the blue needle. Cheers, Ganga

You have skewed this feeling of loneliness, of being lost.... of impending winter, of the homeless and nameless on the streets, of the millions without shelter, hungry, walking in a daze, (perhaps drug-induced)...barely existing. The camps worldwide of those displaced by war, by hate, by a world that really doesn't care. Is that what you meant to do? Because reading it when you first posted it, and reading it again now... I feel it is an *unfinished* poem. As is the fate of those who live inside your blue needle. I can't award stars because your poem goes beyond its necessity. I suspect you already know that. ~A "If you have come to help me, you are wasting your time. But if you have come because your liberation is wound up in mine, then let us work together." Aboriginal Activist Group, Queensland, 1970's

More often than not, our plans are usurped by bigger ones... universal ones... much like serendipity and being the hands of *skillful means*. It's always in the eyes of the beholder, and championed by the Lover who acts on behalf of the Beloved, knowingly or unknowingly.... ;-) Love. ~A "If you have come to help me, you are wasting your time. But if you have come because your liberation is wound up in mine, then let us work together." Aboriginal Activist Group, Queensland, 1970's

There is a certain quietus about this piece that defies description. The ponderous tempo suggests the gradual inevitablity of the coming of Winter. Said so succinctly and powerfully - kudos to you! well done Boni