I started writing review for your "Revelation" and it disappeared! Will begin again. I wish you had written it in iambic pentameter. It is almost too stiff as it stands. Not enough emotion or feeling as a result of the sing-songy
"da, da, da, da, da, da, da, dum? Not sure what I am trying to express here. It is the SOUND of the piece that makes me believe the writer is not that involved, not that "passionate" about it all! Not really. Yet, nice rhyming. All in all, very scholarly and intelligently written but where is the passion?
Well, revelation is a kind of "looking back" and considering what happened and I guess in that sense, you are dispassionate and right on...
Still, I wish you had said: "The pain's forgotten after many years; too many years to shed so many tears. Those magical times will remain with me- For other times, another love to be?"
Nice poem. I'm just not sure the meter was good for the subject matter.
Your piece is actually a poetic rendition of the memory and loss of your grandfather. It was a simple description; the happening itself. And it was special because you remember not being able to cry. That seems to be something that does happen to some of us. The inability to let it all hang out. I think we are probably afraid that once the floodgates are opened, there is loss of all control and we fear perhaps spoiling things or being 'out of order' or not respectful enough? Oh, my gosh, there are probably a million and one reasons why some of us do not cry when we lose a loved one! I remember , age 18, losing my father (an unexpected heart attack while he was in the driver's seat and the car crashed). I was like some one had put a cork in my mouth.
I ran from the funeral home and could not be coaxed back in for the ceremony. It was several years later that I could talk about it, a little bit at a time and let a few tears treacle out. Your piece brought all that back to me.
I love writing Haiku, don't you? I see your pale sister doing something a little different, considering the photo...
Pale sister of day
Illuminating my dreams
Reflecting moonbeams...
if the moonlight (the pale sister) is going to illuminate a part of your dream, it is probably going to be in the form of some sort of light as opposed to a song, right? Just a thought... I love rewriting other people's stuff, lol. Your "pale sister of day" is wonderful! Jackie
I liked this because it was focused and I could read it quickly with my eyes getting crossed because of boredom. Most of the time I force myself to read these short stories and keep looking at the side arrow, hoping I am near the end. I know the writing is really bad if I keep watching for location of the down arrow every few sentences. You described a location, situation clearly and quickly enough and then went on to develop something between the girl and boy so as not to lose me. Congratulations.
I really enjoyed reading this. It was nice, how you compared an old, broken building with the broken life of a human.
I think you could improve it by shortening it to read more like a free formed poem. Your title is apropo. Has a nice ring to it.
Think you can remove about a third of the words with out spoiling the sound of it.
I wondered what the heck someone would do with cheerios and red heels. You did a lot. But then, I am so prejudiced in your favor, that, as a poet, I can see none of these prose writers as coming even close to making as much sense as you!
So, you win the contest, in my eyes. Forget whatever the judge had to say, lol. Jackie
I like the repetition of the "we built" line.
I keep trying to put it all into Shakespeare's iambic pentameter. For example: "On an August day, we drove to Stone Beach (ten syllables)( we can assume it is hot because of the month, right?) I capitalized "stone beach" cause it just looks like a special place.
To enjoy some sun; cold Atlantic waves (ten syllables)
A small breeze came whistling across the reach (ten syllables)
"We built impregnable castles and caves". So, is the meter, the "beat" important enough to change these lines? I think so, but
then you are the final judge. It is your poem. If you study Shakespeare's sonnets, he is relentless in the meter/rhythm. Take a look at some of his sonnets, count the syllables and you'll see what I mean. I figure, if it is good enough for Shakespeare, it is good enough for me, lol. I think this is a nice poem. I like it. But I would work on the meter some more. Jacqueline Casey
So much effort has been put into your piece that I would suspect you must have at least one or two boys in your family, age 12 through 18? Peace and Happiness! And don't let the ninja, gitcha, lol. I knew it could not possibly be Santa who had the time to handle all those bad boys. Jackie C.
Thanks for your help. So, I have taken a picture with my camera, created a nice, doctored photo in my Adobe program, and saved it in a jpg format. Kept the size under 200 kb. Now I have uploaded picture and placed it in my port, gotten an item number for it.
Question: How do I now send it to a poetry contest AND place it on the page like I want to see it in relation to the poem?
Are there any tools available to manipulate placement of the photo in relations to my script? Right now the picture is displayed above the poem. I want reader to see photo and poem at same time. Any way I can do this? See "Pond Poetry". My entry title:
A Child's Christmas Tree # 1732482. Image #1724440.
I was successful, once so far in placing my copyrighted photo with a poem. However, my photo has now disappeared. Does that mean that someone has 'borrowed' it? Why did it disappear? Thanks. Jackie
I do believe you have quite covered all the senses here in your brief description of what it might be like to spend an evening
in a holy rollers tent as we of the southern ilk once referred to it. Being a child does put you on a different level of acceptance
for religious belief. I can only say that I have been there; done that and know you speak the truth.
I thought this was just excellent. I liked everything about it. Your pacing, the descriptions of the interior, the characterization. The relationship formed between the writer and the old lady with 'creaky bones' flowed naturally. The whole story was very believable.
I felt that the story was a true one. I really can't say what I would change. The ending was a little abrupt but that is usually what happens with a short story, huh?
I like the images used in your poem. And I do think of some strange dance as the sun hits the bricks on the walkway.
Think you might work on the last line a little more. Just my opinion: continue your images that refer to the 'dance of life' or some such. I don''t know. That last line just seem a little weak to me. Not nearly so strong as patterns that morph, unending waltz,
quiet communion, slithering shadows, etc. Best to you. Jackie
I needed a good laugh. And your stuff did it. I actually laughed out loud at some of it. Did not know about the 'depends', lol,
for skydivers.
They just told me that my short story depicting drunken husband and the practical joke (I thought it funny) wife played on him
was outlawed from the Cramp contest. It seems alcoholism does NOT come under an E rating! How was I to know? I am
new here. But the amazing thing about my short story is that all 20 readers today felt sorry for the husband! The whole 'funny' thing backfired on me and people thought I had written a tragedy about an overwhelmed, overworked husband! Am still licking my wounds.
Totally enjoyed this. Fun to read, fun to see, fun to ponder. I appreciate the work that went into your song of old age and how
you did weave it among the knitting needles. Jackie
Of course, I love your story because I can relate to it. Life is definitely not fair when arrow can also be spelled aero. I have fond memories of the 4th grade Spelling Bees and my 15 minutes of fame as a result. I still, to this day, love nothing better than a Spelling Bee and am many, many years away from that era. Well written. Fun to read and remember.
The subject of your Mother is very important to you. So, think you should continue to write about her. I have an idea that you
want to learn more about the count; the meter, the syllables in each line. For example: Here is a line from one of
Shakespeare's sonnets: " Let me not to the marriage of True Minds (ten beats to the line)
Admit impediments. Love is not Love (ten beats)
Which alters when it alteration finds, " (ten beats)
This is Shakespeare's Sonnet #116 -You can read & study the rest of it by looking online. It is written in iambic pentameter "DA DEE, DA DEE, DA DEE, DA DEE, DA, DA (ten syllables)
Shakespeare's sonnets are a wonderful place to learn, I think, how to write poetry. After all, he is the best, right? Here is what I would suggest. Study His FORM, then rewrite that last poem you wrote about your mother using his form.
For Example: "God took you away too Fast: I'm Aghast, (ten syllables)
My Heart Yearns to see you again each Day (ten)
So much has been left I wanted to say... " (ten )
etc. Keep Writing. Keep Reworking, rewriting. Will get better each time you edit. Best to you. Jackie
"Well, not sure what I am reading here", said Alice. "But it all seems very grand".
Not sure of how to use "quiver". You use "quiver" twice, so it must be important. Has something to do with archery? A Holder ? Feel the wind test you but ("hold") onto the earth? Space Rocket? People wanting to fly? The tower "scratches" the sky, so guess that is point from which you leave? "Warden" - something relating to a prison?
I have never read a Harry Potter book, but I sense something here concerning alchemy?
O.K. , I give up! Tell me what your poem is all about, lol.
Well, of course, you describe 'alone' well; someone who has learned to experience it.
I am new to this 'alone' thing; lost my husband last year, (married since 1955) so am beginning to learn. But you must have a bustling life with so many children/grandchildren. I have 2 children and circumstances have separated me from them for most of my life. I have 3 grandchildren, grown up now and living other places.
Your poem: spare, controlled, kind of like a bony skeleton/all the leaves stripped from the tree - makes me think it may be you experiencing the loneliness. But how could that be with so many children around ?
I Totally enjoyed your twelve year old rendition of 'life in the basement' and of course , your "spider saga". Everything moved right along. I, too, know about spiders. I have been sleeping flat on the floor for years because of back problems, so that does make you more vulnerable to spiders and things that go bump in the night . If I see 'anything' out of the corner of my eye, the room gets vacuumed- quickly. Otherwise, I do not sleep that night. You are a good story-teller. Keep writing.
Well, I particularly like this joke for a reason. Knowing my dentist, I think he would go overboard laughing at it. And, based on the enjoyment he will derive from the Laugh, would like permission to copy and send it to him. I particularly would like to send him something this month to laugh at since my usual payment to him (I pay him monthly) will be late. His name is NOT
Dr. Moskowitz!
There is a great deal of honesty here. So well written: disciplined. It moves. If you have ever had to go find your father in a bar with your mother at home, crying, then you know it is a very
true, honest depiction of the situation. Adult Children of Alcoholics always act that way - like the son in this story: quiet, patient, immovable, controlling.
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