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 |   A terminal for all blogs coming in or going out. A view into my life. |
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"Waves of Grief"  [13+] by 🌸 pwheeler - love joy peace  Mini-review: It does capture grief, how it can crush and roll like ocean waves. The form is used well but line 3 is problematic as 'in' divides the line in two in a way that mildly jars, but I can't think of an alternative way of expressing it. I suspect that in an oddquain (1/3/5/7/1) like a cinquain (2/4/6/8/2) line 4 should be the climax (peak of the crescendo) and repeating 'crushing' works well to make that point. IMO, line 5 should be like a sigh... and the use of ~__~ in '~pain~' does the opposite, emphasizing the word; it could be just 'pain', but that's a stylistic quibble. Definitely a keeper. I rate it 4.7. Prompt: Let's focus on grief. What are your thoughts? Finally something that isn't uber-happy! I wallow in my depression, thoughts oozing to the surface to be gathered and washed of all sins ... so to speak. Grief is best allowed to flow over, under, around and through. It doesn't age well when bottled up. But the expression of grief is cultural and personal. Entire rituals of grief are practiced by some. Others? My mother was stoic in public; my dad's funeral was 'her party'. She cried when no one was looking. Me? Just hit 3,600 views of this blog. With over 400 full entries that's a bit sad. I'm averaging less than 8 views per entry. Little I can do. Interactions here at WDC are meagre. Very few readers even within groups. Fewer comments. My grief is this... I'm speaking up more than I did as a child but I'm nearly as invisible. I watched the trailer for "Le hérisson" (French, 2009; "The Hedgehog" in English). There is a scene where Josiane Balasko as the concierge Renée Michel has done her hair and put on nice clothes. A wealthy woman she knows greets her as if they've never met before. As Togo Igawa, as Kakuro Ozu, explains... the wealthy woman has never SEEN her. At times I don't want to be seen, but here at WDC I want to be acknowledged. To do that I try to interact with others. But Blogville, once thriving, is a ghost town. Even we ghosts are lonely. 3,597 |
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