tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2120442619950502271.post3076077287558808308..comments2024-02-13T07:05:32.433-07:00Comments on Of Poetry: An Elegy to Heather TriplerJohn W. Mayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10462966253651386355noreply@blogger.comBlogger7125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2120442619950502271.post-51454663631446155412013-03-10T10:28:05.070-06:002013-03-10T10:28:05.070-06:00
Thank you for writing this poem. I knew Heather ... <br />Thank you for writing this poem. I knew Heather and lost touch with her over the years. I was saddened yesterday when I found her obituary online. She had a beautiful spirit and loved her children more than anything else in her life. She had many people who loved her and tried to help her. Tragic that she passed on alone and homeless. It just illustrates the devastation of addiction, ever reminding me that some must die so that others may live. I will honor her memory by staying sober today. Shine on Heather, I will always remember you and share your story to help others struggling with addiction.<br />Bradley Clark <br />Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12636081991823279705noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2120442619950502271.post-77879719357425313632013-03-09T06:50:07.571-07:002013-03-09T06:50:07.571-07:00This comment has been removed by the author.Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12636081991823279705noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2120442619950502271.post-49822550692687973702012-12-04T18:20:31.703-07:002012-12-04T18:20:31.703-07:00That was my mother and I grieve for her I'm no...That was my mother and I grieve for her I'm now 13 and thank you for writing this.<br />-Chris Sessions Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2120442619950502271.post-63128565554345925722010-10-11T08:56:55.362-06:002010-10-11T08:56:55.362-06:00J,
One of the most beautiful things about our fai...J,<br /><br />One of the most beautiful things about our faith, is the sheer joy we will experience in actually having a relationship with those whom we love(d) here, but who never knew us.<br /><br />It's something I think about often. There are certain individuals I find myself drawn toward, who don't even know I exist. I've often wondered about the hows and whys. It's so very strange how you can become completely attached to another soul you've never personally met.<br /><br />You compose some of the most beautiful poems I've ever come across. You should seriously think about publishing them.cherylhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16583811501343752136noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2120442619950502271.post-69173389438108930152010-10-09T19:51:47.232-06:002010-10-09T19:51:47.232-06:00Moving & beautiful. Your heart and sensitivity...Moving & beautiful. Your heart and sensitivity touch the soul. The final stanza beyond words. Thank you for sharing this.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2120442619950502271.post-43187491282200899852010-10-09T18:45:57.362-06:002010-10-09T18:45:57.362-06:00Heather was a daughter, sister, mother and friend...Heather was a daughter, sister, mother and friend. She was never alone but may have felt that way at times. We miss you every day and I pray you are watching over us, especially your two precious children. Your life on earth was not nearly long enough but I am certain you are in the presence of our Lord and Savior which does bring me a sense of peace through the sadness. I love you!--- BethanyBethany Kisernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2120442619950502271.post-17514267339763833422010-10-09T14:59:13.306-06:002010-10-09T14:59:13.306-06:00Just discovered your blog today. Excellent blog. ...Just discovered your blog today. Excellent blog. My favorite poets are T.S. Eliot and Gerard Manley Hopkins. I have only had two poems published in my life. Here is one of them:<br /><br />SHILOH<br />By Tim Shey<br /><br />Brutal deathdance;<br />My eyes weep blood.<br />Pharisees smile like vipers,<br />They laugh and mock their venom:<br />Blind snakes leading<br />The deaf and dumb multitude.<br /><br />Where are my friends?<br />The landscape is dry and desolate.<br />They have stretched my shredded body<br />On this humiliating tree.<br /><br />The hands that healed<br />And the feet that brought good news<br />They have pierced<br />With their fierce hatred.<br /><br />The man-made whip<br />That opened up my back<br />Preaches from a proper pulpit.<br />They sit in comfort:<br />That vacant-eyed congregation.<br />The respected, demon-possessed reverend<br />Forks his tongue<br />Scratching itchy ears<br />While Cain bludgeons<br />Abel into silence.<br /><br />My flesh in tattered pieces<br />Clots red and cold and sticks<br />To the rough-hewn timber<br />That props up my limp, vertical carcase<br />Between heaven and earth.<br />My life drips and puddles<br />Below my feet,<br />As I gaze down dizzily<br />On merciless eyes and dagger teeth.<br /><br />The chapter-and-versed wolves<br />Jeer and taunt me.<br />Their sheepwool clothing<br />Is stained black with the furious violence<br />Of their heart of stone.<br />They worship me in lip service,<br />But I confess,<br />I never knew them<br />Though they are my creation).<br /><br />My tongue tastes like ashes:<br />It sticks to the roof of my mouth.<br />I am so thirsty.<br />This famine is too much for me.<br />The bulls of Bashan have bled me white.<br />Papa, into your hands<br />I commend my Spirit.<br /><br />Ethos<br />February/March 1997<br />Iowa State University<br /><br />www.wallsofjericho.50megs.com <br /><br />Genesis 49: 10: “The scepter shall not depart from Judah, nor a lawgiver from between his feet until Shiloh come; and unto him shall the gathering of the people be.”Tim Sheyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07931913325290043598noreply@blogger.com