I was just thinking about the day
that I blew part of my hand away.
September twenty, sixty-three:
that day will live in infamy.
...
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Hey Hairy-palmed Kim, Great Poet's Notes, and 'cute ending to poem. Yes,20 y.o. children. That's what you GOT for scaring maid.
Wow, this is quite a tale and well told - both in the poem and in the note! What an experience. You were very blessed to survive!
The story without the rhyming cannot hold a candle. Good boy. The pace the excitement are missing in the other version.
Oh.... My....! This is so terrifying and sad! Reading your other poem, I thought much of it was fictional! Now I realize how horrible the accident has been! I can imagine the trauma and ordeal you underwent! By God's grace, no other vital part of your body was involved. Accidents can happen anytime.Miracles too.... It was providential that you got a driver to take you and the doctor finall y conceded to do everything possible to save your life.! This is indeed an incredible story of agony and endurance. But I appreciate your spirit to say that now your work is lighter and you need clip the nails of just eight fingers! That's how we should look upon life! Top marks!
I thought the title was familiar. I occasionally study my various scars. Oddly, they bring back mostly fond memories
Incredible story, Kim. No doubt you study the hand, as much for the memory of its past as for its anatomy. (My major was anatomy and physiology in college) Wonderfully written. Thank you for sharing
Kim...Wow! Yes, I can relate to some of this...How do these things happen so fast? Why can I remember so many details, right down to seeing (in my mind) the event, years later...but I can't remember what I had for lunch yesterday? This poem is just...wow. A great piece.
I think one comment was jsut sent prematurely. I guess no one can now accuse you f bing 'heavy-handed', but maybe 'under-handed'?