I am, first and foremost, not a woman but I can relate to your poem and I think you are right to question being a woman in a new century. A lot of world cultures don't treat woman as the equals that God intended, I also know that this may not be a bridge that the world's women will ever cross but if you have your freedom then by all means you should take it to the limits only you can put on yourself.
Look at his silence as a distance that makes the heart grow fonder and then reach out to him in only a way that he'll understand and this, I'm sure, will end the silence and you lonely, unheard words.
In this world, where love can be found through the eyes of a child of our Lord, people can see through your layers and see the person that you are. Maybe, though, what people see is something that we can't see in ourselves. A lot of people see me as being a writer and I still can't see the words for the paragraphs I write.
When I grab the harpoon who am I supposed to aim it at? I can't aim it at your prose because it is written way better than mine (on any given day)... Or am I supposed to aim it at myself to get myself to learn to write a story that a whale will want to read or should I point it at the English language for having to many rules and style conflicts?...lol
I learned quite a bit about you by reading this extended biography but yet I find you still elusive. Won't you reclaim your chair at the head of the "Moo's Fan Club" I'm afraid that I let the cobwebs take over and now no one will enter it. Any suggestions on how I can arrange my folders?...lol
I think, because you wrote this poem in the first place, you already have enough sleep...or at least a vivid imagination and one that I would be proud to have. Besides that MurphyMoo you are either a writing ruminant like my Bovine Bessie or you are a lover of cows.
Sometimes children's fantasies should stay untouched. Your modern updated version of Peter Pan, although clever, brings too much darkness to a world that is already ridiculed with pain and sadness. I believe our children need their childish dreams and happy thoughts of a world where they don't have to grow up.
This is a very funny and creative fantasy story. I liked how you mixed some titles of books, games and authors within the realms of your storytelling. I also liked how, in a few short words you were able to tell a story of a "sick" man.
This piece will be featured in the Fantasy Newsletter on the 13th of April
This was definitely an interesting questionaire but I have but one comment on one of your questions that seems unfair...
Do you have a valid driver's license for this state? If not go no further. I have a valid driver's license but it is not for the state in which I'm currently driving in, and since most DMV computers are now networked between states, my license should be valid in all 50 states.
(Of course if I were going to actually fill out this survey I'd have to get to know you better and I already have a survey in my portfolio to do that...lol) Write me if you want the link.
My words weep when I think of the daughter, 13 years old, that my life has kept me from. I can go on everyday thinking that one day my Heavenly Father will bring us together. Although I won't be able to make up for lost time, I like to think there is still a chance that she'll forgive me for not being there as she's growing up.
This is a beautiful poem and I love the message behind it. I think we all should try to reach our hands and our hearts to our Heavenly Father and see this world through his eyes. I know this would give everyone a different prespective on how we live our lives.
This was an interesting story. I'm glad you chose Writing.Com to post it so other writers and readers, like myself can read it and leave comments on it.
I was hoping that the story about the magical purse would've developed a little more before the abrupt end. You did a nice job indentifying the "Fairy Godmother" as you called her but I was left wondering if the items in the purse were in there when she bought the bag from the woman or if they materialized as she sat down on the park bench to discover what the woman was going to do next with her life. Did the man come to her aid because of the bag or was that purely coincedental?
I love how this poem starts right off by bringing the reader into this poem with a simple word, "You". This poem also ends with the same "you" as you started off with leaving the reader wondering if it was him that this poem was about. Thank you for capturing my thoughts for more than a couple of seconds.
This poem has the Milkman close to tears because he is reminded of his dear mother, who as of March 5th has been Breast Cancer free for three years now. He knows that cancer doesn't have to be a death sentence any more but, although his mother is still clear of cancerous cells, she'll never be free of the disease.
Every word of this poem deserves the five star rating.
Your poetic dream of flight has me looking to the skies for self-powered humans in the sky... someday may I join you in the friendly skies, but right now I'll stay here with my water buffalo.
As a humbled Milkman how can I not shed a tear of joy for all of these kind words from so many of my friends on Writing.Com. This tribute has made the many hours I have spent writing, reading, reviewing and thinking up the next "The Writer's Cramp - Poetry Week" prompt so worthwhile. You people should also pat yourself on the back and encourage yourself for entering this daily contest. I know I have filled a folder in many portfolios with entries, including mine. Writer's Cramp would be nothing without your support. I thank and give a hug to each and everyone of you.
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