Greetings! I'm stopping by to review "Dream Stuff."
I was really drawn into this fantastical little tale. Your writing is engaging and my mind had no trouble seeing all the piles around the girl and the two little doobies who were busy trying to sort out all the mess.
The point of Mary having the dream of what had happened (or dreamed that she dreamed she did) put the right capper on the whole deal for me.
Greetings! I am stopping by to review "House of Cards."
This short story is entertaining on many levels. I loved the use of slang throughout, plus the (probably often) mispronunciation of Alan's last name. Poor Goober.
Without really going into much detail at the beginning, you managed to give this reader the understanding of how Alan lived his life. Of how he probably was agoraphobic to some extent if only for the sheer ease of being in a place that was comfortable to him.
Then along come his well-meaning parents with their well-meaning gift (oh the shame of having an obese child!) but they will pay for and fix this problem, even if they have to dip into their retirement funds to do so.
That, piled on top of the shame of having to receive said goods from a bunch of yahoos driving a truck! Well that ought to just give poor Goober the incentive he needs to throw himself into this new effort--even if it's not of his choosing.
But I have the feeling not everything will fit in his place now. Physically by all the new equipment, but ALAN himself will no longer fit.
Donning my editing cap, I would perhaps change "stinkin' day for yas" to "stinkin' day for y'ass" or something similar. I get that it's slang but was a mite indecipherable the first few reads.
Favorite bit: "He showed an index finger in the universal sign of one who will be right down in the proverbial jiffy,"
Poor Goober. Best be seeing about that workout. Or a larger apartment.
Greetings! I'm here to review "Slumber Denied," an engaging poem about the sometimes elusiveness of sleep.
Reading your poem evoked memories (not too long past!) of tossing and turning the night through. Of bargaining with myself "if I fall asleep right NOW, I'll have six hours and thirteen minutes until the alarm goes off" (which somehow never works but I try anyway) behavior that engages my weary mind but does actually NOTHING to help bring sleep on.
On a larger scale, I think this poem could be translated into as many languages as there are peoples and everyone could relate. Insomnia or sleeplessness is a HUMAN problem, unhindered by borders or cultures.
I love that you got everything to rhyme so well. The cadence is spot on.
Donning my editing cap, I would offer the following suggestions:
"I punch" could read "punching" ("Punching the pillow, the sheets I kick.)
I would also suggest changing "daze" to "dazed" ("I sigh, I rise, my dazed day begins.")
And lastly, I really want to suggest stanza breaks. It might give the reader room to move the eyes. Visually having no stanza breaks makes your poem look a little crowded.
Greetings! As requested, I am reviewing "One among the two is gruesome."
The feeling I get from your entry is that it is more of an outline than an actual short story. The bones are there to make it a good story, but the item, as written, feels more like an overview than the actual story.
I would suggest taking each character and spending some time on them. Describe them in action. Have conversations with other characters to bring them to life. Then, you can start putting together the story in a form that readers will be hooked into.
Also, I believe some different word choices will fit your story better. For instance, "One fateful night, Rocky gets a phone call from anonymous and this ping brings a massive twist in his life," This could be written as such: "One fateful night, Rocky gets a phone call. He doesn't know who the caller is. (Maybe insert the actual conversation here.) This call changes everything."
In the last paragraph, the word "chattels" is used incorrectly. A chattel is personal property, according to the dictionary. Perhaps "and runs toward the woods" might work better.
Greetings! I'm stopping by to review "God in the Everyday Things (Shoelaces?)"
Inspiration comes in many forms. It's only when we stop to truly listen that the images come, along with the corresponding thoughts.
Your tale of shoelace imagery is a strong one. A good one. One led by prayer and devotion to not only He who you follow but also your devotion to yourself as a Listener and a Writer.
I spent many minutes thinking of shoelaces and what they represent as a metaphor for our lives. Are they all clean and tidy in a box? If they are ragged and besmirched, is there yet hope? And on and on.
A good story makes the reader think. So I did with yours.
Donning my editing cap, I would suggest changing the word "weren't" to "wasn't" so that it reads "After I finished my morning devotions, I wondered if I wasn't going a bit nutty."
Then, in the third paragraph, I would suggest rewording it a bit, perhaps thusly: "I gave up trying to clean the kitchen, and sat down at my table with a blank sheet of paper before me. I waited for the inspiration, that piece of wisdom that must be wanting to push itself past the image of shoelaces that danced through my mind. My son was using our computer, so pen and paper would have to do. "Obediently" I picked up my pen.
Greetings! I'm stopping by to review "Dreams of Light."
This poem is a Ghazal, a specific type of structured poem involving many different rules. Having never heard of a Ghazal previous to reading your entry, I did a little research.
You have followed the instructions for the Ghazal very well. Each stanza is a poem unto itself. Each stanza ends with "dreams of light." There is the rhyming '-ing' word in the last sentence of each stanza. For that alone, I applaud you. It's quite a challenge you undertook, and mastered it quite handily.
My research also yielded this interesting fact: ghazal form usually speaks about deep, metaphysical questions of life as well as love and longing. They are usually melancholy and reserved. (https://poemanalysis.com/poetic-form/ghazal/). Your poem fits this beautifully, drawing the reader into that time between the deepest, darkest part of night until the dawning of a new day, and what a grateful awareness there is in the connection between what is above (spirit) and what is below (body).
I don't know if you've written other Ghazal poems, but you're in good company. One of my favorite mystic poets, Rumi, apparently used this form of poetry often.
Greetings! I'm stopping by to review "Living in Style"
This little poem about a suit-wearing mouse draws this reader in immediately. It is cute (a suit-wearing mouse!) and it's a little naughty (said 'fly' mouse may be wearing a suit but it seems his aim is to just get high).
You did a great job of rhyming all the way through. Since it's a poem of some length, that is a real feat. Not every rhyming poetry writer can manage to pull that off.
Donning my editing hat, I would first take out the two titles at the beginning as you have already titled your poem in the header.
In this sentence "With a tiny little joint, behind his little ear. he would puff and puff," I first wanted you to add "tiny" again to "behind his (tiny) little ear" but have since changed my mind. I suggest it read "With his tiny little joint, he would puff and puff."
Here's my reasoning. As cute as it is for him to have a tiny little joint behind his tiny little ear, how would he be able to puff it from there?
You can come up with something better than I suggested, I'm sure. Just food for thought.
Greetings! I'm stopping by to review "Moving - and other Horror Stories"
Happily I stumbled across your article and read it with some interest.
Your writing is engaging and draws the reader in. Anecdotal story telling is one of my favorite reads. While there isn't any outright humor (how can moving be funny?) there is a warmth to your words, even as you describe some of the pitfalls to hiring a moving company.
I also found your article to have some really good suggestions which I will file away in my brain. I have said for years that I will never again move without hiring a moving company. I just now know, thanks for your article, that they best do door-to-door. Eighteen missing boxes? No way!
I did find your reference to Satan and Job intriguing, and you did tidy it up with another mention at the end, but I am also wondering whether you could tie in more references in between? Might not be necessary, but the thought did occur.
In summary, I would recommend anyone contemplating a move to read this informative article. Well done.
This poem "Accidental Touches" tells the story of a young child who wants to enjoy the things their father does. Namely, a cup of coffee. A hot cup of coffee.
As children are wont to do, the child just pulls the cup closer and in so doing, upends the hot liquid on both themselves and their father.
What happens next is the (probably painful) experience of being rushed to the doctor. But all is well that ends well, because the child, now grown, can recall the experience as one of being taken care of when disaster strikes.
The poem is well written. In donning my editing cap, I do have a few suggestions:
1. In both the second and third paragraph, I believe the word 'setting' should instead be 'sitting.'
2. "soaked through may pajamas and burned my skin." "May" should instead be "my."
3. "when he exposed the my wound to light." Remove the word "my" so that it reads "when he exposed the wound to light." Or, you could remove the word "the" so that it reads "when he exposed my wound to the light."
4. Lastly, I would put a paragraph break before the last "I remember."
Greetings! I'm stopping by to review "An Unexpected Swim."
This has all the makings of a great story. A robbery! Suspense! A fairly likeable character (even though we don't know a lot about him).
Turns out he's an ex con, our fellow. He thinks he knows it all and gets his comeuppance quite handily (if not a mite brutally.)
This reader is assuming that Ehrich Weiss' employee Wilton Baxter is guarding some quite precious jewels to mete out a punishment like this. Or the store owner is just done. DONE.
Donning my editing cap, I don't note any major problems in the flow of your story. No spelling errors noted.
P.S. I'm thinking old Wilton is a bit of a sadist...
Greetings! I'm stopping by with a review for your entry "The Orchid Bride."
I enjoyed the story as a whole. It's a magnifying glass on a small period of time between a young village girl and her suitor. He woos her away from her village with promises of a life beside the ocean. The ocean is there all right, but the wooing suitor has now turned into someone she doesn't really know and, to be honest, he is certainly not very likeable.
I have sympathy for the young girl. To stay in the village of her parents, unmarried, is unthinkable. I suppose she is lucky that she had a suitor at all and one who "allowed" her to be a student. There is an inkling of hope that once the student days are over, she will find work that is fulfilling. I cannot imagine her husband will be tolerant of much else.
This is also a story of grief. To leave your childhood home into the (fingers crossed!) arms of a man you hope loves you and treats you well. This young woman has no voice of her own. Let's hope she eventually is able to be more equal in the marriage. Happiness, in that case, is possible.
Donning my editing cap for a moment, I did spot a couple of things that might improve readability:
1. "It had been Usman's dream to become a teacher, the life of a farmer in a small village was simply not for him." Instead of a comma, I suggest this be two sentences. "It had been Usman's dream to become a teacher. The life of a farmer in a small village..."
2. "She was yet to visit her parents," Suggest changing "was" to "had". "She had yet to visit her parents."
3. I think this sentence reads better with the comma after "Suddenly." "Suddenly a strong gust and large splash of waves, knocked her to the ground." "Suddenly, a strong gust and large splash of waves knocked her to the ground."
4. I would also remove the comma in this sentence. "No reason, at all." "No reason at all."
I look forward to reading more of your stories. This one has so much going for it.
A couple of thoughts come immediately to mind when I read your poem. One, that I had a conversation with a friend just this afternoon about what she calls an existential crisis. And second, I thought of the show "Alone" that's currently on the History channel.
I think the three interweave beautifully. On the show, participants are surviving alone, pitted against not only the need to provide themselves with food and shelter but to survive themselves with no distractions in the form of other people. Sometimes it is not lack of food that drives them to tap out. It is the aloneness. Alone with their thoughts. Alone with their feelings that perhaps they did not want to have. Alone with memories.
So, too, my friend's conversation about her existential crisis. She is at a crossroads. Empty-nesting in more than one way, aimless. Not pitying herself exactly, more of a "what's the point to all this" attitude.
Which brings me back to your poem, which encompasses all of that I wrote above and more. We can be alone in more ways than one. When we are no longer cool with our own company, it's up to us to question the why of it all.
Editing wise I might suggest breaking this into stanzas. Otherwise, the simple words hold their own quite well.
I thank you for your thought-provoking poem. Lots to think about!
Greetings and salutations! I've stopped by to review "The New Reality."
Funny how humans always want to make a "thing" about things. How just a few nights of something new become "this is how we do it."
Your short story about the foursome who seem to be wandering through a sick and/or dying world puts that message out loud and clear. There is comfort in company. There is also annoyance in that same company.
As any good short story does, yours leaves so many unanswered questions. What happened? How died these four come to be together?
What is not in question is if John is coming back. He's clearly not.
Donning my editing cap for a moment, I would suggest a bit of a rework on the sentence "George, Millie, and Jane kept on walking with (add 'their') arms full of wood. John was left standing by his pile (delete 'gathered wood.').
Are you planning on more chapters or is this a standalone?
Thank you. I enjoyed reading and also reviewing your story.
Hello, Sophy - here to review "Laguna Cliffs," a poem I was lucky enough to stumble over this afternoon.
At the beginning I was unsure who was telling the tale, but soon realized it was the timeless earth. How many millennia has this ground been walked on, climbed, skipped over, shoveled out of the way? Only the earth will ever truly know.
So too, is this timeless tale of love. Love for a father for his daughter, who returns that love for all of her life and the remainder of his.
It is poignant when she holds his hand as a tiny girl, and then holds his hand again, his weary hand, worn out by (presumably) illness or perhaps just age.
It will soon be time for those hands to let go for the last time here on this earth. But what love is bound together in life does not ever die.
It will ever be remembered as she sits on "their" rock, whether in person or in her dreams.
Editing, etc.: None noted.
This poem really touched me deeply. Laguna is where my mother asked for some of her ashes to be spread. I'll remember your poem on the day I do so.
An ode to the preacher man. Weary, humbled, wanting to serve. That's the message that comes through here.
I appreciate that you use some old language (cometh, goeth) as it fits your theme well.
I would suggest breaking this up into stanzas to improve readability, especially as there is little punctuation. Perhaps like this:
Preacher man oh where does thou cometh from
I come from preaching the Word
Oh preacher man where do thou goeth
I go to preach the Word
For I am a wanderer and sometimes a beggar too
I own everything however nothing all at the same time
See my Father is King, however ,I have laid aside everything to follow him
All for the sake of my Lord a preacher I must be
I teach and I preach and few really listen to me
Oh preacher man are you tired and weary yet
I am tired and I get weary a lot however I look to the hills from which cometh my help
All of my help comes from the Lord
Preacher man will you ever quit preaching
No not till I am dead
That I do not dread because then I will sing the song of redemption at my Savior's feet
Preacher mango on then if you must I shall pray on and on for you
Pray on if you must however living God’s Word is best
I need your prayers however I want more for you live abundantly
Walk in his love and grace and share it so much
Live for him with all you got for that would brighten my heart
Preacher man go forth then and I will try and heed what you have said
Preach on preacher the world needs you more than ever
Also, 'mango' needs a space so that it reads 'man go'
I would suggest punctuation, but I know that's a matter of taste. Either way, the message is clear.
Perhaps 'enjoy' is not the correct term to use for your poem due to the subject matter, but I did enjoy it.
It reads differently than longer-stanza poems. I'm not sure I've read a poem written this way before. Everything that needed to rhyme did, and your choice of words exactly right.
No suggestions or critique.
Grief does weigh heavy on the heart. Perhaps I am in a tender place at the moment, and if so, I will honor it by reading your poem again.
I can feel it now, as I read your poem. The dread roiling in my stomach as those around me wait to hear what pearls (or s***e!) might drop from my lips.
Great job to stuff such meaning into a few short lines. Your tanka is well-written. No critique or suggestions.
You have balanced the format well, and I applaud your efforts in that regard.
I get that you needed a 6 to end the first stanza and therefore your wording fits. When I first read it, I thought that the "is" from line three worked better in line four, but that would have thrown off your count.
Volumes can be written about what you chose to write about, but I will proudly admit that my mind IS multi-paced!
It almost reads as an illustrated children's story.
(It took me a minute to decipher the "bear" symbol, but I laughed at the "I can't groundhog it either")
Donning my editing cap for a moment, would you consider adding a word? Specifically, "Groundhog's put a signboard" to "Groundhog's put up a signboard" or even "Groundhog's put out a signboard."
It's a time-worn tale, to be sure. Love. Loss. Regret. And freedom. Hope for the future. Those who once caused us so much pain are finally put aside. Finally.
Suggestion in the first stanza:
His slate blue eyes, dream of far off lands.
could be re-worded to: "His eyes, slate blue, dream of far-off lands."
Re-reading your poem a number of times still leaves me satisfied.
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