I rarely give a Five. But I am making an exception here. Most mosiacs I have seen are static and stilted. (Not worth a second look.) Yours, on the other hand, are organic and delicate -- like a fresh rose petal or a lilting, uplift smile. The body of work you have created within this folder is exceptional. I hope my review entices others to stop in for a visit. They will be both blessed and delighted. You obviously have a gift from On-High. "Stolen Moments" was my favorite. It is fluid, whispy and charming. Â "Oppulent Elegance" was a close second -- for the same reason.
I am (unfortunately) living "Summer Nights" right now -- and you have amply described them in this piece. Your words are adequately (and accurately) twisted and artistically squeezed, like colorfully thin balloons that creative clowns provocatively prompt into animal shapes. The difference being that your "Whirling about and Swirling about" bring frustration rather than freedom.
First time I read this, I thought: "Nice piece of work." Second time I read it, I pondered: "More here than it seems." Third time, I perceived it as sort of a literary "Mobius Strip," where the beginning was the end -- and the middle -- and the beginning again. Anticipating the fourth read-through, I determined that I should write you and say, "Nice piece of work" -- and then some.
I enjoyed this piece, even reading it out loud several times. I liked the rhythm very much. But the full impact of the content/context eluded me. That is not to say that I did not enjoy it. (I rarely review what I do not enjoy.) But I wanted more. I assumed the impetus behind your two dozen and three words was trust or love -- broken or lost. Not knowing which (or what) kept me one layer (at least) removed from what prompted you (inspired you?) to write this work in the first place. I wanted to move closer to the core, but could not find it ... Not a criticism, mind you, but a comment. Please continue your efforts. I look forward to reading your words once more.
What a wonderful (powerful) and thoughtful work you have here ... One wonders, though, if you have thought through a piece entitled "I am ... " -- a phrase that has enormous implications, both in Christianity and Judaism ...
What a remarkably wonderful and thoughtful piece. One can only hope that, while powerfully inspiring, no writer will ever have to pen such words again –- shadowed, as they were, by a prejudice that haunted so many ... so many years ago.
My favorite, untainted phrase: "a majestic Schwinn, painted red with white stripes."
Schwinn bikes, I am sure, knew no racist twists -- their large round spoked wheels rolling equally well for both black and white, alike.
My Dad died 25 years ago -- when I was a young man. I still feel the loss, though it aches in a different way now, like scar tissue on an old wound that acts up in bad weather. I read and pondered this piece, thinking of that sad day so many years ago. And, for just a moment, my distant wound seemed fresh and the hurt, new. If a key to writing is connecting with others on a deeply personal level, then you have well succeeded here.
I cannot even tell you how thoroughly I enjoyed this piece. You have encapsulated (almost exactly) my pre-waking dream experience -- which I have had, as recently as today!
Thank you ... I did not know anyone quite went through this, as I have. Well-articulated, and well-written.
Selfishly, I wanted this piece to be longer ... to enable me to peek behind the literary veneer -- artfully hidden by "mere" words. There is much more here (me-thinks) that I want to know, but I fear its ultimate totality, lest it open me up to the real pain, darkly hovering underneath your chosen words -- no doubt, deep beneath ...
Your words and imagery crash and splash across the pixilated screen like a massive, powerful, syncopated wave to create the kind of multi-dimensional tension that only a perfect "Storm" can produce ... Much thanks to you for allowing me to choose the photographic image that ultimately inspired this piece. For me, personally, lighthouses work on so many literary levels that every writer should at least try his or her hand at attempting to translate these solitary sentinels into prose or poetry.
PS: Sometimes these links "break" and leave a space -- in which case you must delete the "space" to get to the link ... To anyone doing an inspirational write-up of one of these images, I will attempt to review the results of your inspiration. ... Simply contact me, along with the URL (i.e. web address) of the lighthouse image ...
I rarely give a 5.0 ... almost never. Such a rating suggests perfection -- and, as I have learned (in this life, anyway), there has only been perfection once: many, many years ago. Your piece has all the elements that strike me as key components of a strong, solid, literary presentation: rhythm, content, context, imagery, the choice of words and the spaces in between. It is difficult for me to pick a line or cluster of words that stand out -- they all do, working together; synergy, at its best. As the first reviewer of your first work at Writing.com, I feel both blessed and privileged.
Thank you ...
Please continue to write -- and add to your "port." I look forward to reading more ... much, much more.
Humbly,
Eli
PS: I wish I could give this piece a 4.9 – a 4.5 must suffice, for now ...
The fountain of which you speak portrays a wonderful symbolism of hope -- a fountain that flows of fresh, cool liquid that sparkles in the mid-day sun and glistens in the midnight moonlight.
Most of us seek hope -- yet rarely find it. I pray that at least some might come across it (and be resfreshed) in this piece.
What a sad piece, this ... You have conjured up a thoughtful, brisk, 44-word snapshot to reveal those safe-choosers, who protect themselves from the pain of love ... and its joys.
Rightly discerned have you: "No (love) pain, no (love) gain."
But Love is, no doubt, ultimately worth the effort ... and the challenge.
"A little bit of string -- a little bit of string. See, here it is, M'sieu le Maire."
Please read it ... please?
My favorite line in your piece is:
"For I know the world will never realize that
The only thing that means anything to us
Is what means nothing to them."
My desk is a sea of Post-Its ... "Golden Garbage." Each pale yellow, semi-sticky square stares at me longingly with expectation, and says: "Me?" ... "Me next?" ... "Pick me?" ... "Please?"
In just two-dozen or so words, you have summed up the essence of "The Passion of the Christ" (www.thepassionofthechrist.com). I am reminded of that verse in Colossians (1:20) that speaks of the cross as the tool (weapon?) of reconciliation that made peace through His blood. It is amazing that a life lived so many years ago can still stir up such passion (and controversy) even now. One wonders how many more treasures his life (and death) will unearth ...
It is nearly impossible to rate a piece like this on a mere literary level. The articulation of life's pain might not pass muster in English 101 -- but it often does well in Life 101. In saying that, I readily admit my bias: My wife and I lost a little one many years ago in the first trimester of life's miracle. Some said, "It wasn't even a baby." If so, why did we feel such loss -- and pain? Recently, my daughter's daughter was born nearly three months early. She was a scrawny, splotched pink creature that could have been mistaken for something other-worldly. She struggled, and survived, having been born at a point when some might question her viability -- let alone her humanity. (Yet, more than six months later, she continues to thrive.) I will evaluate this piece on a human level, rather than on an editorial one -- though I will share some minor points later. In a hyphenated word:
"Heart-rending."
Perhaps the most poignant line:
"What little time you had on earth, you gave me, your father, grandmother's and family many fond memories"
Thank you for being so willing to be vulnerable. That must have been painful. I trust that many lives will be touched by this work.
Eli
PS: The editorial comments ...
In the line:
"You arrived in this world on November 25th,2002"
... I would put a space after "November 25th" ...
And, in the line:
"You will be forever my little angel, James Dean,and will always have a special place in my heart, till the end of time"
I much enjoyed the choice of words, the line-lengths and the content. It reminded me of when I was stationed in Japan, many years ago, surrounded by people at a train station, but alone, because the burbling fog of language (speaking in tongues?) that enveloped me was so foreign -- as aptly described by you, when you wrote:
"People flow around me, about me, through me
And yet I remain
alone"
You have, in words and well-chosen phrases, crafted (like a word sculptor) the "human condition."
Oh, the peace you bring to "The River's Edge." I read it twice, and my soul felt refreshed. God, too, brings refreshment in wind and water -- you have done so with words and phrases.
Thank you,
Eli
PS: I, too, am a NASACR fan ...
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