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True algorithm ia in response from the reviewed. Honed craft over 17 years. I see the good, with an eye to potential. Will never be/play authority of someone else’s words. That’s left to the master of the work. The artist has the vision; I just react/review, illuminate a fuller perspective to overcome challenges faced with those words. I see responses my reviews as affirming. *has references*
 
To see how I review, my feedback is public. Reviews can be set up through email. This page is limiting. *Smile* I accept review credits if I deserve rank. I accept merit badges as recognition, to be earned not bought…my opinion. I buy to support friends to maintain my shadowed equivalency, not pad. I have low vision, ADHD. it’s tripped me up. I dust off, get back in the game.
I'm good at...
Poetry, psychoanalysis. Ideas and notions on publishing process. I encourage writers with my reviews, look for strengths and give direction on how to make something better. I continue to correspond those who approach, when more to offer. I see what drives, use experience and the overarching mind, connect where each individual’s art derives. Hope to opine where it could take them with their craft. Like to believe, sometimes, before the writer knows themself.
Favorite Genres
nature, love, psychological, spiritual, inspirational, epiphany, emotional, drama, human interest, science, conspiracy, dystopian, fatalistic, speculative. Not cookie cutter fantasy realms or choose your adventure. Action/adventure. Unique, surprise.
Least Favorite Genres
Horror, fan fiction, some fantasy and sci-fi, or anything Lord of the Rings/Game of Thrones-ish.
Favorite Item Types
poetry, short story, essay/opinion/blog
I will not review...
I’m happy receive an email to discuss first. I set this to receive 9k. WDC gets the rest. No page here I know of to collectively or categorically see, compare reviewers for hire. That might be a worthy tool.
Public Reviews
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Review of These Old Eyes  
In affiliation with WdC SuperPower Reviewers Group  
Rated: E | (4.5)
Dear Lockedhart ,

I discovered your poem when searching for new members who write poetry in this community. I found a poem that was more a block of text without formatting or structure to give weight to the lines hidden within. I would suggest a way to present this to reveal the hidden gems within, as I'm about to reveal now.
I'm struck by the open of this poem...

"I live in the forgotten place."

To me that first line stood out. It is something that I can relate to as a reader/writer caught in the neglect of the world. I go to this place implied (of my own) to reside when I read this, prepared to discover the rest of your poem knowing that is where live best, where I connect with the outside world. This poem doesn't relate exactly how I feel, however. I can assume it is from the narrative perspective of one who lives with other elders who might be looking at the last years of life while reflecting on the past:

"I live with all the missed memories, connections and chances. What could have been is our favourite toast here. The echoes of regret ring like a church bell. Looking back through these old eyes."

Herein above is the meat of the poem, and that which expresses best about looking back on life and the missed opportunities acknowledged, toasted even. 'Echoes of regret right like a church bell' was perhaps most poignant and evocative for me. I'm grasping even now to plumb the depths of the poet's meaning. 'Church' is a strong word to imply with the tolling of a bell, that from literature we know all too well told is 'for thee'.

I look at the remainder in two parts. The poem turns to the others who haven't made their peace with getting old, having not truly lived when you say:

"Please take me back they say. I missed something. You were so young then."

But also there is a great companion expression for that thought:

"Looking at what was in front of you, not knowing forever was behind you."

This poem comes from wisdom and experienced enough to know that one can put this all in perspective, putting aside regret. It can acknowledge the weakness of such feeling about not having lived. I go back to the 'forgotten place' though, which is strongest, reminding me to put this perspective in that frame. We are to understand that this condition is felt by one who is alone, observing. It is melancholy and saddening and again reminds me of where I live in this world, where I've been placed. Perhaps, I could take a cue from this to just live without regret.

It's well told in this poem and a much deserving piece for others to take note of.

Brian

** Image ID #1578663 Unavailable **

If the poem were edited, it could read:


These Old Eyes

I live in the forgotten place.
I live with all the missed memories,
Connections and chances.
What could have been is our favourite toast here.
The echoes of regret ring like a church bell,

Looking back through these old eyes.
Please take me back they say.
I missed something.
You were so young then.
Looking at what was in front of you,
not knowing forever would be left behind.



Slight alteration was made on that last line. I would either attach the last line of first stanza with first line of the second; or, find a way to make the second line a stand alone sentence, rather than leave it a fragment.

A third way to handle it is (replacing comma from last line of first verse)
flip the two lines assigned to that second verse to read as follows, flowing into the third line:

"Please take me back they say.
Looking back through these old eyes,
I missed something."

Okay, now I'm done with suggestions. *Smile*

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Review of Bonnie and Clyde  
In affiliation with Space Blog Group  
Rated: 13+ | (4.0)
Dear Elaine Pitts ,

Sorry it has taken me awhile to get back to you with your request for further review. On reading Bonnie and Clyde, I could see some possible revisions, if you are aiming to improve this. The most important part of a poem is the open, getting readers hooked. People will tune out real fast just based on subject. But, if you intrigue them, you might have them around longer. Looking at the introduction to your poem, I made two alterations to show you how you might start this out differently:

A story of intrigue and mystery,
of two that were one,
A story to go down in history,
of two hearts and a gun.

I think the open is key to your poem. What you want to avoid is the repeated 'A story' for all four lines. Either it's too much to read over and over, or visually might be seen as landlocked text. I find a way to trim and get a rhythm for the read is just eliminate two introductions and make two complete statements in the first four lines.

Two renegades just-a-running, (runnin' ??)
Taking life day by day,
Looking into the eyes of the other
Hoping for another way. (might be a weak expression)

Here you have a verse that is trying to get that old-timey feel for narration with 'just a running'. I felt a Steve Miller song coming on, you know the one. It's similar. I don't know much about Bonnie and Clyde. What I remember is a picture book of them posed by their getaway car with guns. Another, of them shot dead. They let kids like me look at pictures like that. I think they were Time-Life books. Different times.

Wishing their love could have been normal,
With children and houses to live,
But this would not be their future,
Only destruction to society to give.

This could be a book cover teasing the reader about their life, what they would get up to. It's very broad in that scope. For a poem, sometimes, maybe focus on one particular thing that you could illuminate. I'm just wondering what made them do it? Did they kill people other than cops to get money? Were they celebrated for some reason, because I seem to recall that? This poem essentially reads as an overview, which can be good.

Texas could not hold them,
For their love and their passion's to wild, (too)
But away from the lights and the sirens,
You could see a hint of a child.

In the eyes that had seen so much hatred,
In the arms that embraced each night through,
Not knowing if tonight would be the last one,
To ensure that their love was known to be true.

This is like trying to imagine what it felt like to be them. I think getting into more of this would be good for the poem. Something specific to them to focus on.

Stealing a laugh or a tussle,
Hoping the coast would be clear,
Dreaming of free love in a bustle,
Holding their dreams so dear.

What were their dreams, exactly? How long did they think they could get away with this? There could be some foreboding here. Maybe, there's some readers with no knowledge of the couple. A chance to spin a bit with your narrative.

Tightly, passionately they loved the other,
Not taking one kiss for not, (naught?)
Caressing and holding and loving,
For what little time before they would be shot.

I liked this part. The idea of their love before they were shot, in the rhyming fashion.

Bonnie and Clyde were lovers,
Through toil and trials became friends,
Destined to be entwined together,
Until the bitter end.


I don't think it's a bad poem. When I read it, I feel it lacks detail. Even a poem needs setting, maybe a sequence of events when you are essentially trying to cover the whole Bonnie And Clyde thing, their motivations and love for each other mostly. But, they had fans, I think. Hollywood glorified them and it spawned all kinds of fiction from the written to film and tv.

But, what I'm thinking is, this needs to be more focused somehow. What was the last bank they robbed? What were some signs their demise was near? You encapsulate it pretty well. I just wonder, for a poem, if you can key on something like a slip up, or how robbing banks was some kind of high that they passionately enjoyed together that the got careless and wound up dead. It's not necessary though, just me wondering in feedback how it might be better.

Personally, I wouldn't change this. I'd work on another, if it inspires, after a little more research or applying untapped knowledge. Incorporate parts of this that fit thematically with a poem that focuses on their last days, for instance. You could use their last hours as sort of a recap of their love for each, bank robbing, a sort of life flashing before their eyes before they are caught and fatally shot.

That's just an idea. There's good stuff here. Whatever you chose to do, keep writing. It always helps me to keep thinking about a subject, or just to keep penning words. That's why I review. It helps me think about dissecting and revising and editing, all the things that make a good poem or story.

Sorry for the delay and that I couldn't be of more help with this one.

Brian

Made by Lilli


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Review of What should i do?  
In affiliation with Circumpolar Black Light Reviewer  
Rated: E | (3.5)
I got a gander at the group you created and wanted to know more and found this poll that I thought might be related to it, but found that it was about what you should do as a participant of this site. It was a varied selection, from story to art, blog and make games. Some of those would erquire and upgraded account and in the end, with one two votes for story, poof!

So, hopefully this review will get to you and you will see the value of growing your portfolio with some written pieces first. I don't know if you were given a chance to land a free upgrade, so you could have that opportunity to blog. I'm curious what the littles group would have been about.

BK
CircumpolarReviewer
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In affiliation with Space Blog Group  
Rated: E | (4.0)
Dear Annie ,

I really enjoyed the listing of reactions from daybreak to incorporating into this narrative a revealing of events unfolding in your poem "Windows of the morning. Sometimes, It's fun to just jot down every little thing we see and experience in a moment and see how it all connects poetically, which you have done hear. It seems organic and natural and somewhat informed by a spiritual mind experiencing and relating something that is pleasurable.

Okay, if I could just nitpick a bit for a moment. That sunrise is familiar and is glorious. I know that colors display around a sunrise and the word economy does not take time to attribute the green and pink, though I gather orange and yellow. Green especially seemed out of place. Do we attribute that color to the sunrise or something else? Is it a type of green we might see at sunrise, because it would be rare.

I imagine more unique word choices like emerald? It seems distinct enough to fit in that foursome. On spelling, just a note on the spelling of dewy. Or, are you English? British spell it with an extra 'e'? Sorry, don't mean to offend your colourful language? Just trying to be clever now.

What I would also adjust is giving a space behind a few of those commas wedged up tight between those sentence break to breathe.

I liked how this poem evolved from early morning to the exercise with hopeful thinking at the end. All of these images, expressions and shared thoughts bring forward this message of hope that narration extends to the reader. So, very nicely done.

It was a pleasure to read and comment as a member of the Space Blog,

Brian

a "Space Blog Group affiliated review...now rare and few.


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Review of A Noise Above  
In affiliation with WdC SuperPower Reviewers Group  
Rated: E | (4.0)
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Dear Vanishing Vapor ,

I wrote an entire review for this, thousands of characters long, and lost it before I could send. Here we go again.

*Pthb*

What drew me to your poem "A Noise Above is the way you depict this scene and the rhyme scheme employed that gave it a suspenseful but fluid read. Bats are a great thing to discover, especially in this poetic form. There is some mystery and suspense with some trepidation for one to view.

This poem really hits on all cylinders before I got a little foggy on did we see or did we not see the bat in the sky, because it goes back and forth from end of second verse to the middle of third about this spying process. I can imagine that you sense it's presence, like maybe a shadow or it's body darker than the night sky as it swoops by. Perhaps, even our own auditory clues, unlike its echolocation advise the narrative voice of it's presence.

The third verse presents just a little awkwardly in how the bat presents. It's likely just the wording 'never once' as a clue that this might be for entire poem? Or, ever before? And if so, the evidence from the end of verse two of knowing of the bat's presence is negated? It gives me too many questions to ponder, instead of enjoying your poem. With a bit of rationalization, I can put together what I think you imply. The process to infer just slows me down a bit.

One other thing I got hung up, before I praise your poem some more, is the suggestion this "bat flies like a bird/As if it had no care." I pondered this but then had to google, because I do not know bats to behave this way. The information I was getting back is that the bat is the only flying mammal. No feathers. I flies in arcs, erratically to an from its destination. No wonder it would rather swim through the night air, because it is not a think of beauty.

In contract, "birds can open their feathers like a Venetian blind", however you might imagine that resembles. The have smooth lift and thrust throw air where they can glide. You could imply that this bat that is barely viewed has such confidence that it could fly like a bird, but that is not how I truly see it. They are awkwardly aggressive creatures that instill panic and irrational fear among some.

I guess if I could point out one more thing, it would be the ending. This last word seemed forced to fit the entire rhyme scheme unfolding. I really enjoyed the form and what you did with the structure. Even in the last line, comparing a bat to Angelic is a nice contrast, which is why implying it has the will to fly like a bird can be admired. This poem works against traditional beliefs about this flying mammal, showing a narrator that marvels at its nature.

This vision I have of a bat is something that zig-zags or swims against the sky in this dragon-like wing flapping across the sheltered sky. It's the perfect thing for a freeverse poem, because it defies convention, structure and order. You could give it a try with varied line breaks to present it and its wild change of course and the quiet pauses in night waiting to see where it will appear. Alliteration and assonance among other poetic devices could really breathe extra life into this vision of yours.

It was a pleasure to read and consider for feedback,

Brian

Look at that, I got through the review a second time without wiping it out complet...

...just kidding. *Laugh* I hope my grammar and spelling and review make sense, because I cannot go through all this again. SAVE+SEND *Facepalm*

And if you're interested:
 
GROUP
Wheelbarrow Poetry Group (Be A Member)  (ASR)
Sign Up! Poets who want to share their craft of writing, with free verse focus. Email Me.
#2231099 by Brian K Cognitive Dissonance

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In affiliation with WdC SuperPower Reviewers Group  
Rated: E | (4.5)
Dear Detective ,

This was a nice poetic exercise in the use of the repeated Whitman phrase from the poem of the same name. You infused personal experiences and appreciation of literature in with this theme, albeit somewhat disconnectedly, but enthusiastically.

Though, it was true that Whitman was celebrating America that had a song in their heart with an eye to a bright future, what you employ in "Sonnet 29 (Because It's Her Favorite) are scenes from your surrounding that include birds, and shopping and people bustling, to the personal revelations that overwhelm someone who collects carts in the frigid cold and has their own dreams.

And then, this poem switches gears to a collection of summations about great authors and their stories. I think at this point, the poet become a daydreamer enjoying a bygone era of literature. Perhaps, it's a sharp contrast between reality and pure classic fiction that inspire a soul working with hands to dream of something better, the way that Whitman had hoped.

Perhaps, in an odd way, it's a commentary on how he may have been wrong about America, despite it still singing (maybe another, less harmonious tune?). That truth doesn't bear to fiction with as much sublime feeling as the poet. It does show that the narrator still burns with a passion for something that isn't so much Americana, but what it has produced and left behind for us to recall, like history, of what we were destined to be or become.

I'm probably over-analyzing a high School poem. But, even if unintended, there is something there in that raw, narrative dreamer's message that smells like hope to me, that we can resurrect America to former glory somehow, someday.

Brian

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Great poem. Always worth a read:


I Hear America Singing
BY WALT WHITMAN
I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear,
Those of mechanics, each one singing his as it should be blithe and strong,
The carpenter singing his as he measures his plank or beam,
The mason singing his as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work,
The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat, the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck,
The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench, the hatter singing as he stands,
The wood-cutter’s song, the ploughboy’s on his way in the morning, or at noon intermission or at sundown,
The delicious singing of the mother, or of the young wife at work, or of the girl sewing or washing,
Each singing what belongs to him or her and to none else,
The day what belongs to the day—at night the party of young fellows, robust, friendly,
Singing with open mouths their strong melodious songs.

n/a
Source: Selected Poems (1991)


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Review of FROGS  
In affiliation with WdC SuperPower Reviewers Group  
Rated: ASR | (4.5)
Dear Meg ,

This was a very relatable poem and quite timely for these parts as the frogs at our nearby pond recently sung us a late chorus on a recent, warm summer night, though the crickets did their best to compete.

The revelations in this poem made me wonder about the narrator, and the living arrangements. I also pondered if we're hearing our frogs differently. Describing their voices like 'waves breaking over a sandy shore' helps a little, but seems more expressive about how the din makes it hard to sleep. The nearer the are, the sharper the croaks. The further, more unison like those black bugs rubbing legs together in the tall grass. There is no tonality or quality to that description I could appreciate further.

But, I do get not having A/C and needing windows open, but that sound. I reminds of birds that arrive too earlier or neighbors carousing too late. I think there are things to equate when you tell this frog story in poem form to lend to these revelations. I enjoyed the ending about sleeping outdoors all day, as a result. It felt kind of inviting really, though I sensed the sun was a problem.

So, in conclusion I have wonderings:

What, no ear plugs? *Laugh* Though, you use a pillow. And, no umbrella or shade for that backyard siesta? I imagine if the frog thing was unexpected and there was no plan for it, we get in these situations where it makes us so frustrated, there seems no preparation or remedy. I liked that about this poem, about how humanizing. As usual, your poetry employs the traditional rhyming and great storytelling you have been known for, depicting a scene with your usual flair.

It was a pleasure to read and consider "FROGS for feedback. Thank you for sharing your poetry with our community for so many years.

Brian

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358
In affiliation with Space Blog Group  
Rated: E | (4.5)
Dear Meg ,

This is a clever poem with a bit of fun, I suppose at a snake's expense. I have no idea what a Kookaburra looks like, or how big it is. Either it's a wee snake, which I cannot imagine, or that's a very large bird.

You have such light fun with the narration and depicting this bird that I sense revels in it's abilities to gather food. I wanted to know more, even though this is a short poem that doesn't set up for much more storytelling.

What serves best was this section of the poem:

He swoops down fast --- so glad he can fly
" One reptile breakfast --- to go!"

It's this whimsical style that is infectious and synonymous with much of the poetry of yours I have read and that you have shared in response poems with me.

" A KOOKABURRA'S BREAKFAST could be part of a collection of traditional rhyming poetry tales with that Aussie origin that you could deftly spin so well with these poems. Have you ever published? We've lost touch, but happy to read a poem from you tonight.

Brian

A Space Blog Review 🚀


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Review of 11:34pm  
In affiliation with Circumpolar Black Light Reviewer  
Rated: 13+ | (4.0)
Dear Ximena M Gutierrez ,

This poem "11:34pm revealed to me feels very honest and is expressing certainty (with some doubt), but without regret, the end of a relationship. It is well described and comes across very organically.

There was sort of a raw, awkwardness to the language when the poet and narrative try to relive and grasp the reasons to end a relationship. It also reconsiders the value of the time spent together.

What I found most compelling is not overtly say why it had to end, only that it felt right. Perhaps, it was because of a disagreement that abruptly ended it. It might have been a relationship that was still new and discovering. But, because of the decision, the narrator here is reconsidering while having a cigarette (odd ending by the way) if it was the right choice.

The only revelation is 'it felt right'. Paraphrasing. This is special and unique to the poem, because it feels very personal. But, it also feels very relatable. I think setting up scenes to give context is what brought flavor to this and made it so easy to appreciate. Anyone who reads should come away with an understanding of what this person feels just in ending the relationship.

It read like an open letter to this person who will likely never see the poet in person again. Their mind is made up. Something pretty significant about that title. Probably, time of death?

BK
CircumpolarReviewer


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Review of Bodybags  
In affiliation with Circumpolar Black Light Reviewer  
Rated: E | (4.5)
This was a poem that grabbed me, "Bodybags, especially with that title line. And when I think of bodybags, I think of what the dead are carried out in. It felt like this was not about that, but an expression for something more.

I couldn't be sure what government you refer, though not uncommon if it were American, and wasn't sure if it is part of a feminist agenda, though it easily could be.

There are some strong statements with images that are provacatively objectionable should they exist, but also to the bystander/observer. This is political poetry, short and sweet and could have been more...needed to elaborate. I think if it is written for an audience that knows all to well what this it is about, and it works. For a general audience that includes me, I want to know more.

This could be about the right to choose...abortion, a timely topic now, even though it is not a current poetry piece. It might go further than that. I think of government testing, and may be more about pharmaceuticals. Each has very powerful and polarizing political statements as poetry that are worthy of perusal and discussion.

Unfortunately, it ends too quick. It hooked me. You really did well with that with the visual images, while not original, could have informed the poet to take this expression further and give us more of the passion that informs the narrative that could elucidate minds of readers.

BK
CircumpolarReviewer


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Review of In my garden  
In affiliation with Circumpolar Black Light Reviewer  
Rated: E | (3.0)
This was quite the list. In my garden starts out with real flowers and organic things growing and it takes a tour into the mind and the poet's psyche and likes and some experience shared before it ends with torn leaves. I think it is a poem that wants to be comparative to a garden, but it failed to deliver on that theme.

When I saw black carnations, I was expecting some relatable comparison. I wanted to visually see in words this flower and how it related to the narrator. Unfortunately, all we got was a list of things that described the poet. Nice expression with 'crumpled smithereens', but wasn't sure if you meant the band or how smithereens might apply to one self.

I do like the listing, I just wanted it to have context. I wanted to see a garden that describes the self, but it didn't bloom. In fact, everything was bought at the story and stood around in pots. you might want to water and consider perennials for the next planting.

BK
CircumpolarReviewer


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Review of Too Vain  
In affiliation with Circumpolar Black Light Reviewer  
Rated: E | (5.0)
It's catchy where you have found words that rhyme and flow and use exclamations at the end. It is a narrative that feels certain of itself and one that doesn't feel it needs to apologize or to explain why one would feel no obligation to serve the needs of others over self. This is the second poem of this nature I have discovered by you.

This poem makes statements and it feels it comes from self-reflection, perhaps from an epiphany or realizations that life doesn't always offer the best outcomes. This is a person who basically says I like being alone, no expectations and I don't feel I owe to anyone or anything to sit around waiting for life or opportunity to happen.

What's great is this poem gets off to a good, rhythmic start and then like waves crashing lands lines four and five, tight and sharp with its punches. I have no problem with this whatsoever. I think you have found a poem that best expresses self and how you feel. It works divinely. I wouldn't change a word.

BK
CircumpolarReviewer



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Review of Away  
In affiliation with Space Blog Group  
Rated: E | (3.5)
Dear Justine .

"Away is nicely worded and romantic poem using imagery and sensory to put a reader in these tender moments revealed. The feeling of love lost but somehow cherished, is how I imagined this to read.

What it lacked, however, is the ability to pace itself. The lines and the words were needlessly enjambed in some portions making it difficult to read. But, by the time I had gotten to the end of the poem, I felt a strange sense of reversing these thoughts and feelings right back to the beginning. It was like the poem had come full circle in thought and expression.

I think line two started incorrectly and you might have meant 'away' instead of 'way'. Also it should have been 'across' instead of 'a cross', though it made me wonder if it might be deliberated, like trying to set up the pace of the read. But, I could not make an argument for it, as it was not used beyond, or to lend to this theme.

The poem was well described and something I imagine readers could relate to. Very little to argue with when it is a romantic poem pining for it's lover. It was a pleasure to reader and comment. Thank you for sharing.

Brian

I affiliate this review with Chris Breva group "Space Blog Group.


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In affiliation with WdC SuperPower Reviewers Group  
Rated: E | (4.0)
Setting with perspective like what was employed by this poem are vital. A reader can easily and quickly connect with the narration or POV as you have conveyed in "Staring at the Clouds. There is something personal about this that makes me wonder, something I'm trying to figure out while I can relate with it. It's odd, as if I am in the moment with the two, even if just watching.

I like the brevity of your poetry 'Staring at the Clouds' and how it attempts to inform us in this particular piece. Wrapping my mind around this unfolding scene, beside the emotions conveyed, are the juxtaposition of the two lying on their backs. So, I had to try to figure this out. I think it leaves some question as to how these they are revealed or posed.

Lying side by side,
Looking in your eyes

I can get with this, because side by side, heads can turn toward one another. At least with him to view the other. But then strangely, expressively...

Feels like miles away
Lying back to back,

Side by side, back to back? Why the sudden change in positions? How do they see each other's eyes? Am I perceiving this wrong? I wonder for a moment if what feels like miles away isn't about in feeling from one another, but what they are viewing. Are the eyes an expression for something else? Let's let the poem finish below:

Staring at the clouds -
I have found you there...

This is what made me wonder. Have you found this other you are lying next to by this connection lying side by side looking at clouds? That I like. But then, how do they look into each other's eyes. Why are they side by side but then back to back? I think it needs to be clarified if they are changing positions.

I think once addressed, it would be easier to appreciate this shared experience. They can look each other in the eyes and feel miles away, but when they look up at the clouds from the ground, perhaps they feel connected.

What might help this poem is establish the cloud gazing first and then insert a moment of eye contact and that feeling of being far away. Perhaps, it doesn't have to end on that note, as this poem ends on a note where the two connect but sharing the view of the sky. You could finish the poem by returning to that.

It would also give the opportunity to express the change of positions. First side by side, then look in eyes, feel far away, then back to back and looking at sky but then feeling a connection through the shared experience. I think just a reordering can help a reader understand what is happening.

Short and sweet is nice. If it were me, I'd be adding more detail. Setting scene includes grass, how's the weather, clothes worn, physical descriptions, sky depictions, use of sounds or smell, anything sensory really. Though, if correctly constructed, short and to the point with the one takeaway can be an eye opener for anything gazing on these clouds of words forming on the page. *Wink*

It was a pleasure to read and lend feedback on this poem,

Brian

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Review of Meaning  
In affiliation with WdC SuperPower Reviewers Group  
Rated: E | (3.0)
Dear kesan,

Sometimes we are struck with a revelation of such importance as writers that we must pen it down, follow where it goes to give it weight. In this flight of pen, there is a point where the thought construction falls back upon itself. Essentially, the poet runs out of steam, into a wall, loses the spirit of the muse. It feels this poem "Meaning had direction before that last verse struggled, and no more...

I would like to examine this poem to see if the subject and theme pursued survive, if there might be purpose yet to breathe new life into this piece. It's a short poem because of it's truncated line length that lend to a read with pep and comes direct at the outset...

I fell over
Sorrow-stricken
When I saw
The gravity of life.

Right there, image struck. Some event yet to be described is setting up a life lesson, it seems. I had one problem though. I can't imagine seeing gravity. I imagine feeling it, however. Something to consider.

Now I know
What is written
On its other side.

Hmmm, I'm taken to this expressed 'other side' of gravity. I can imagine it could be a metaphorical place that has writing on it? Written is loosely expressed here, but I'm waiting it out to see where the poet is going with this.

Now I feel,
Short of feelings,
That I've found
A reason why.

Unfortunate structure, grammar problem and redundancy. It could easily be cleaned up, but needs to be clearer. At this point, the poet is losing me.

Yes, it seems
That all has meaning
Living is
What really counts.

This stanza alone does not relate to the open. It could be a poem unto itself. Something gravitational, something written underneath, I feel a reason, everything has meaning and living counts.

When a poem has a hook, an idea, it needs to convey it using whatever devices through imagery, metaphor, double entendre, personification. Essentially it lacks descriptiveness to get the message across.

I get these feelings. To convey them in a poem might require a little skull digging to figure out how to equate a message in more than just I feel like this or that. Though, it sounded like there was an idiom at play, something that was setting up but never realized. And for that, I say give it more thought and try to remember what epiphany caused this. There should be something concrete beneath.

Brian

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for entry "September 23, 2020
In affiliation with Space Blog Group  
Rated: 13+ | (5.0)
The lord (God) works in mysterious ways...and if we could peek behind the Oz-like curtain, would we be disillusioned? -Brian K Compton

Dear Chris Breva ,

All very good thoughts and views to have. I concur. We all mean to do well and be the best version of ourselves -- even if that is overemphasizing for purpose the realization, life dizzily passes by while we are missing opportunities to seize Carpe Diem style.

I appreciate the tag in your blog entry (9/23) and the link to my writing/poetry. Happy to be discovered. I feel somewhat sheltered here as a WDC member and enjoy a good shout out from time to time like a pinch to see if I'm asleep and just dreaming on this numb walk through of an internet community.

This is a great opportunity for me to revisit an older poem and see where I've come since. We tend to get complacent, despite the greatest of intentions to passionately expression a discourse placed on high mantles of hope. I could set the bar (mantle) lower for myself, but what challenge in that?

Being prepared to die...easy enough to say we can accept that inevitability. It can come at you in all kinds of ways, as with cancer to end-of-times-type scenarios. Hopefully, I can sound as self-assured as you, and I have during some moments in my life. I'm sure I will have forgotten to take out the garbage or pay a bill on that day and will be consumed with grief with something I forgot...even as simply as telling someone I hurt 'sorry' or that someone who needed an 'I Love you,' kissed upon the cheek with those last words.

With life comes great obligation...a bit too Spiderman-y an idiom? But, it's easier to overlook even when we are trying. There are things in our past, as small as anything you can imagine, that will overwhelm us when the time is right. It's always good to be introspective and be fully invested in self-improvement.

What you share has given me another opportunity to put into focus a writing life that has basically gone south since I've arrived. Unfortunate, when I consider I had greater goals for myself that this community could not facilitate, while requires a lot of my time. But, I am blessed too, because writers like you discover and share of me while I keep on questioning life, purpose and meaning as I age.

Good stuff! Thank you for this,

Brian

I am currently affiliating my reviews with your group "Space Blog Group, have stopped reviewing for number two and reviewing less for number one reviewing groups.

If you would like, I will link group reviews in an email or in the forum...but for now:

Review of "There was a Dog"
Review of "Responding to a Review"
Review of "Mama Said"
Review of "My Mind Compacted"


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Review of Toe in the Water  
for entry "On Free Verse
In affiliation with WdC SuperPower Reviewers Group  
Rated: 13+ | (5.0)
Dear Beholden ,

This is part of the process of discovering yourself as a writer. You never have to settle and you can always experiment and go back and forth amid forms. The consideration of everything from Oriental poetry to traditional poetry of yore to the development and popularity of freeverse poetry today all comes from being informed by the experience of having delved into any and all crafts.

No one form can be greater than another when you have so many poets with so many different approaches to each that we can find appreciation in the constructs and shimmering words laid out for each of us to read and consider.

My early days were my mom sitting back to my bed reading me Irish poetry that stills sings in my head. Music and lyrics were another invention for a young boy with pen to scrawl dreams of love to a pad from his head. When I was taught in high school and college, wide venues opened. The acadamia of it all would touch each region of my brain to realize I had been living in the dark ages my whole life.

To this day, I still discover. I follow a word and it's meaning. I follow a poet and an offering. I consider a poetry form and how it is constructed and how I can take one word, with the vision of one author and construct something as unique and unto my own as possible while honoring the craft with a little ignorance as possible. I still know I can draw from any and all walks of life, any and all forms of literature, because it is all a part of me. It is what makes each genre unique and of particular tastes within genre to inform a reader of at least one poet who really can speak to our souls.

So I say, never make your mind up. Always keep considering and going back and forth from the words and the constructs you like. Freeverse is a beautiful way of interpreting a dance that can be unique unto you. And, if you find an audience and those who appreciate what you set forth -- heaven. This is why we write, compelled to share a part of ourselves, what we are, what we love. And, to find like-minded writers who want to revel in those words, share their own experiences back, true friends and community that can support one another...even in a division of color.

Let us not be divided but be one in spirit of writing above all that keeps us apart. Such a great insight into your process,

Brian

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Review of There was a Dog  
In affiliation with Space Blog Group  
Rated: E | (4.5)
A review about "There was a Dog and about life lessons that could be learned from this...

I could almost see a moral to this story forming as I saw a reversal of color for the red dog. If a person were to look deeper and assign meaning/metaphor to this dog, his actions, color change, reaction from other dogs, reversal of color and the irony, maybe something more would be revealed to me.

The poem is simply and somewhat awkwardly laid out, with a storytelling style that might speak to younger people. Though, I feel it could be filled with something more that adults could relate to on another, deeper level. There was opportunity with this that will now be lost to the creator's passing.

What I feel is that we might identify with a red dog. It's bold and it's strong and it is an animal that has friends who are waiting to greet him. But, what happens along the way. He falls into a green bog and his red coat appears yellow when the two colors combine to form a new...which is not possible...but for purpose of story, which is most important...we have this. The friends see him and run. Are they scared of his yellow apparition when they see him, as they howl? It's not clear. The red dog insists he is not yellow. He is firm in self and belief of who he is. The other dogs essentially reject him. The irony comes when he runs back and falls in the pond again and the green washes off somehow and he is red again...and that is for purpose of story once more. But, what does it serve? There is nothing or no one other to see that he has not changed. He doesn't even seem to be aware of it. But...

Aha! The reader sees and understands what has happened. The purpose of the story would be...yeah, still unsolvable. But, this poem has something raw and undeveloped to it that was headed somewhere. I could sit here and do all the calculations in my head about purpose of story but I can't bounce off you now, can I? There are takeaways that are obvious. The most pertinent would be how people see us. And they don't see our True Colors. If I could relate and equate.

A person who is self-assured as a writer and shares his vision with the a writing community makes friends and they share associations and experiences with the craft. But, there perception of him is altered by a misunderstanding, by their ignorance and he is left alone because they won't play with a yellow dog. It could be about the shallow and alterable beliefs of these other writers/dogs who never truly saw him for what he is/was. Why is that? Why are they so afraid of him? He doesn't take a moment to chase after them or wonder why, just returns home. He's always the same color, underneath. Jumping in that bog made him different. Perhaps, the writer jumped in some sort of bog, and what does that imply?

Again, more math to calculate and equate the similarities to make sense. This is what comparatives are hard to use, unless they are simple and straightforward and perhaps why this perplexes as reviewer considering it now. It's unjust in any scenario and does show the weakness of others who don't stand with a friend, even while they are yellow. It informs that they were never friends to begin with. in fact, the are in league with one another rather than accepting him with a little pond scum altering his color. In fact, the act of jumping in the bog was an error and not an attempt to change who he is.

It reminds me that there is always an explanation for another's behavior if we approach and ask or let time give us an opening or an opportunity to see a fuller picture. A woman I worked with once was going too fast and forcing me to speed up and take shortcuts on the job I could get in trouble for. I felt a little put off by getting the bum's rush in my work area so she could finish and move on. Then, I learned later that day she was distracted with a family emergency, that she wanted to be with a family member, though she couldn't because of Covid and was waiting to see if she would have a chance to talk with them one more time. Work was keeping her mind off things. She couldn't stay home and wait for a call. So, I understood and it was because I wasn't standing in judgment of her. I was standing alongside her and allowing her to express grief and get through the morning however she needed. And once I understood, no longer in quandary. And I've learned, it's not necessary to stand in judgment of others. Give them space. In fact, support them more.

So, that's where I take all of this from a simple poem about the color altering coat of a dog who doesn't get to play with his other dog friends.

Brian
Red Among The Walking Dead

This review is affiliated with "Space Blog Group


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Review of There was a Dog  
In affiliation with WdC SuperPower Reviewers Group  
Rated: E | (4.0)
A review about "There was a Dog and about life lessons that could be learned from this...

I could almost see a moral to this story forming as I saw a reversal of color for the red dog. If a person were to look deeper and assign meaning/metaphor to this dog, his actions, color change, reaction from other dogs, reversal of color and the irony, maybe something more would be revealed to me.

The poem is simply and somewhat awkwardly laid out, with a storytelling style that might speak to younger people. Though, I feel it could be filled with something more that adults could relate to on another, deeper level. There was opportunity with this that will now be lost to the creator's passing.

What I feel is that we might identify with a red dog. It's bold and it's strong and it is an animal that has friends who are waiting to greet him. But, what happens along the way. He falls into a green bog and his red coat appears yellow when the two colors combine to form a new...which is not possible...but for purpose of story, which is most important...we have this. The friends see him and run. Are they scared of his yellow apparition when they see him, as they howl? It's not clear. The red dog insists he is not yellow. He is firm in self and belief of who he is. The other dogs essentially reject him. The irony comes when he runs back and falls in the pond again and the green washes off somehow and he is red again...and that is for purpose of story once more. But, what does it serve? There is nothing or no one other to see that he has not changed. He doesn't even seem to be aware of it. But...

Aha! The reader sees and understands what has happened. The purpose of the story would be...yeah, still unsolvable. But, this poem has something raw and undeveloped to it that was headed somewhere. I could sit here and do all the calculations in my head about purpose of story but I can't bounce off you now, can I? There are takeaways that are obvious. The most pertinent would be how people see us. And they don't see our True Colors. If I could relate and equate.

A person who is self-assured as a writer and shares his vision with the a writing community makes friends and they share associations and experiences with the craft. But, there perception of him is altered by a misunderstanding, by their ignorance and he is left alone because they won't play with a yellow dog. It could be about the shallow and alterable beliefs of these other writers/dogs who never truly saw him for what he is/was. Why is that? Why are they so afraid of him? He doesn't take a moment to chase after them or wonder why, just returns home. He's always the same color, underneath. Jumping in that bog made him different. Perhaps, the writer jumped in some sort of bog, and what does that imply?

Again, more math to calculate and equate the similarities to make sense. This is what comparatives are hard to use, unless they are simple and straightforward and perhaps why this perplexes as reviewer considering it now. It's unjust in any scenario and does show the weakness of others who don't stand with a friend, even while they are yellow. It informs that they were never friends to begin with. in fact, the are in league with one another rather than accepting him with a little pond scum altering his color. In fact, the act of jumping in the bog was an error and not an attempt to change who he is.

It reminds me that there is always an explanation for another's behavior if we approach and ask or let time give us an opening or an opportunity to see a fuller picture. A woman I worked with once was going too fast and forcing me to speed up and take shortcuts on the job I could get in trouble for. I felt a little put off by getting the bum's rush in my work area so she could finish and move on. Then, I learned later that day she was distracted with a family emergency, that she wanted to be with a family member, though she couldn't because of Covid and was waiting to see if she would have a chance to talk with them one more time. Work was keeping her mind off things. She couldn't stay home and wait for a call. So, I understood and it was because I wasn't standing in judgment of her. I was standing alongside her and allowing her to express grief and get through the morning however she needed. And once I understood, no longer in quandary. And I've learned, it's not necessary to stand in judgment of others. Give them space. In fact, support them more.

So, that's where I take all of this from a simple poem about the color altering coat of a dog who doesn't get to play with his other dog friends.

Brian
Red Among The Walking Dead

This review is affiliated with "Space Blog Group



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Review of Mama Said  
In affiliation with Space Blog Group  
Rated: E | (4.0)
It's a challenge to string together several haikus to form a poem. In this case, I find four stanzas correctly employing the 5-7-5 syllable format. The relation of story with use of re-collective narration was very good and appealing. Even though, most of this story in "Mama Said feels more present tense.

I dare say this poem is relatable and would find a common audience, perhaps for older adolescents. Almost too iconic, like it could be a template for a tv show script or a moral taught in fiction form...as with poetry.

About the haiku format, I feel the point is to have a take away from the third line. If employing it four times in this fashion, would not four summations to each stanza be in order? I felt the poem did not end on any sort of revelation, but leaves us with the relation of events and how it made the narrator feel.

There probably is an opportunity to find some wisdom in the ending, even though it is right there between the lines about choosing friends wisely and probably about not getting talked into doing stuff that gets you in trouble. It just didn't land where it typically would with haiku.

All in all, a worthy read. Thank you for sharing,

Brian

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Review of Hugs  
In affiliation with Space Blog Group  
Rated: E | (4.0)
Dear princess ,

You must not be able to format text wherever you are posting your writing from. I took a look at this poem "Hugs as a block of text that could be chiseled into something that might be more pleasing to a reader's eye?

Hugs come in every shape and size,
They mean many things to us
Like a hug that says I am happy today.
A hug can say that I am happy for your friendship.

There are hugs to say I am so proud with all that you do.
A hug says that there is no one else in the world like you.
There are gentle hugs and there are great big bear hugs, too
And, there are also tender hugs for someone who is sad.

There are many hugs for everything:
there are small hugs, tiny little hugs, and
there are short and tall hugs, too.
But, one of the best hugs of all is
a hug that says I am thinking about you.
The best hug is the one that says I love you.

You have something here that could be developed more when thinking of all the different types of hugs and who gives them and why. This might be a children's poem or book material, even.

If you describe a little big about a situation that produces each of these types of hugs, it might be more relatable. Imagery is key, visually if for an illustrated book. Maybe, even focus on those unique hugs all the more.

I like the tall and small hugs...the ones you have to reach up for, or reach down to. It makes me think of adults supporting children. What you can imply would be why those hugs come about: A broken toy, a scolding, friend that went away, etc.

Thank you for sharing this,

Brian

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Review of Solitude  
In affiliation with WdC SuperPower Reviewers Group  
Rated: E | (3.5)
Dear kesan,

When I read this poem it feels like it is drowning in mundane language and not very poetic. But, considering this poem describes this feeling of nothingness and wanting to be alone, but sad about that, it reveals something to me. That you have a narrative at work here, born out the feelings of the poet who can't motivate, create, or contain bright language to illuminate. Perhaps, a different approach?

I highlight the unnecessary or tired language...

There's always been something missing
I have always felt the lack
Never knew why it was like that
Never knew if others felt this way too
What I need is to
forget
to stop thinking what it would be
If I were not who I am
If I didn't find so much
pleasure
in my own solitude.

Not very many words survive: missing, lack, forget, pleasure, solitude. 'never' is repeated, 'always' is repeated, 'if' is repeated, and 'I' is repeated...not necessarily for effect.

There are six persoal pronouns, which indicates that the writer is projecting an image of one who feels important, integral to this piece. We have to figure out how that factors with a message about one who prefers 'solitude' to redress this poem.

What's very telling is this person doesn't know of others who feel the same way. There is that lack of communication with others. It seems to be born out of this self-image, where we feel we cannot communicate with the outside world. I get that. A withdrawn person who cannot pick up on social cues is one who does not try to fit in.

Is this about being shunned or just not wanting to be a part of a social group, existence? That has yet to be discovered in this brief poem. These are all good things to consider to convey a message of loneliness. Eric Carmen captured it best in song when he created "All By Myself" by reminiscing youth, unable to find people to spend time with, imagery like a telephone that won't ring, being home alone.

These are all good things to employ to give more weight to this message of solitude. A great poet, Emily Dickinson, preferred solitude as well. You can see some of her poetry to relate to that as well. She built a great construct of a home in words to describe herself and her freedom to be as inviting and as strong as a house where she would dwell to pen her words, unshared until after she died.

So many ways to go with this. It was a pleasure to read and react so that I might comment.

Brian

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In affiliation with WdC SuperPower Reviewers Group  
Rated: E | (4.5)
I'm thankful I get to revisit...again...the 23rd Psalm, the most noted from the Bible and just starting to think maybe this is why Michael Jordan chose that number for his jersey? While all other ballplayers wore his number to duplicate him? Okay, back to this poem...

Perhaps, I should feel guilty for not appreciating this Psalm because it definitely applies. It has applied for a very long time, even though enemies is a strong word. I do break bread with a group of souls who have dominion over me because of a inane desire to impose a caste society in the mix for writers who cannot share on the same level. In fact, you may have bought your way into their heaven. You were no doubt loved, but not very well known when stumbled upon each other here, me making for contact, then you departing sadly.

Your poem is very nicely described, but only can imagine from another person's viewpoint and not your own. This is not the Lynda I could imagine living as a homeless person. So what was it? You daughter, perhaps, who lived like this? The poem shows great experience and does directly borrow from the Psalm with the understanding of it and in an appealing way.

It is simple, straightforward and direct in this poetic offering. It uses imagery and a narrative voice that describes a lost soul who is downtrodden and homeless yet has a great connection of devotion to faith. Sometimes, that is what keeps some strong and righteous. The bible fills souls with this strength from that Psalm cited.

I would say this was well conceived, though not truly from the poet's perspective. It implies from another's point of view and how they can try to follow God despite all that they are left with in this life. It's bleakly hopeful at best. It reminds that God doesn't use his well to set everything right, but for those that belief, life a spirit and hearts that need the nourishment of His love. That moreover seems the message with this poem.

It's been a pleasure to revisit and rediscover one who has passed but left behind their gift of words to give readers and writers like me pause.

Brian

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Review of No thanks.  
In affiliation with Space Blog Group  
Rated: 13+ | (5.0)
Dear Sairah ,

Wow, this poem is very clever. I like how "No thanks. is devised. You correctly hyphenate to describe these sorts of men who are creeps, a turn off, arrogant and self-centered, controlling and more.

I look at this list as a man and cringe a little bit. I can see how I might from time to time act or behave in some of these ways. It's a poem that acts a good reminder of how woman feel unappreciated or sexualized, as with that opening statement.

This list goes for some long hyphenated expressions of types of male behavior that I find inarguable. It feels the poet has really found a succinct form and words that drive hard on it's founding philosophy to single out and shame men who might behave this way.

Perception in the eye of this narrator comes from a place of anger, resentment and some experience dealing with this. While it's statements might generalize, again not up for debate. It's unfortunate that society over the years has looked the other way on domineering males. This poem captures that very well.

Brian

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Review of This Love  
In affiliation with Space Blog Group  
Rated: E | (4.5)
Dear kesan,

This is a poem that sadly strikes a chord with me, hits home, so to speak. On a night when I am wrestling with my feelings for myself, there is a fifteen year old girl who I failed. A child that wants to be transgender and it filled with even more contempt for herself, cannot love herself. The theme of your poem. And she's currently institutionalized because of it.
This was a straightforward, short piece that put a twist on the unrequited love theme. It wasn't as simple as saying I don't love you. It goes deeper to self-love. Something that narrator is well aware of and knows would doom a relationship, if one cannot love self.

It sets up well to reveal this sorrow. It made me wonder if this person wants to love, but cannot. It is sorrow. It is short and direct like an arrow, quicker stabbing at the heart.

I came here looking for a little knowledge and insight while I struggle with that kid of mine, currently a ward of the state until she can get her life in order. It will never be the same for her, or for me. Thanks for sharing and sorry for all the extra stuff.

Brian

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