I see from your Bio you were born in 1946. I myself was born january 8th 1942.
I had the pleasure of visiting the PI in 1960, 1961, 1962.
I remember sitting on the flight deck of the carrier I was on watching the lightning put on a light show above the mountains. I miss the smiles of little children amd most of all I miss the food.
I know the sweet and bitter feelings from a long distance relationship. I kept all her letters for years until the old wooden filing cabinet I had in the rear of my old Studebaker pick up was knocked over the side of a mountain pass in Wyoming. When that file hit nearly 1000 feet below it literally exploded and filled the air with the pages of my life. At first I was horror stricken but as the wind dried the tears on my cheeks I felt a huge burden had been lifted from my shoulders. Now I could rely on my memory. I didn't really need all that weight. I watched the cloud of paper dissipate in the wind. I know those pages traveled far and wide in the fierce wind, but I was free.
A hearty Welcome to the wonderful world of WDC. It changed my life. Perhaps it can change yours and help you become the writer of which you always dreamed.
I like your piece, you gently brought me along with you into the world your words created.
I live eleven floors up in a concrete and steel building with only one floor above me. It has all the charm of a prison.
Thank you for your gentle words that brought me out of my prison for a little while. I am a 78 year old shut in and the people who run this Establishment would not be overjoyed by my comparison to a prison.
I appreciate getting out by reading your piece aloud to myself.
I enjoyed your whimsical approach to Easter complete with chocolate eggs, the Easter bunny, and even unicorns. I always wondered where they come from. Thank you for clarifying that for me.
Poems should in my opinion worm their way into the readers heart. You have done an excellent job of that.
Thank you my young friend for bring a smile to this old man's face.
You took me by the hand and lead me gently into your world. I could see, hear, and even smell the green leaves. I really enjoyed all the nuances you painted so brilliantly with your words. I'll remember your whimsical ending with a smile every time I slice jalapeno peppers. I do that almost daily. Thank you my friend.
Thank you for writing this piece. It brought a swarm of memories that buzz around my white haired old head. I could smell the perfume that I bought her in the city.
Poetry is an intensely personal experience. I've always held that a poem should make its readers feel something special.
Your poem did just that , my friend. This message will never go out of date.
Life is full of events one is glad to look back upon.
You did a good job with this little story. I inhaled sharply when you lost your footing and were about to fall. You have the unique ability to grab your reader by the earlobe and pull them with you.
I say ear lobe because I read this one out loud to an audience of just me. I do that sometimes, using two sets of senses helps me get deeply involved in a story.
I really like this piece. It conjures visions of my hometown as well.
Mine has been a ghost town for five decades. A visit would be uneventful except for a lump in my throat at the pile of rubble that once was my school. The church is still standing but before long it too will collapse.
You brought me with you to your hometown, thank you I like it better than mine.
A well executed poem. You kept rigorously to the rhyme scheme except for the following stanza.
“So tell me Honey, Chakra Tuning, eh?”
(Moe’s blatant mockery had gone away.)
Pat held a tuning fork close to her chest;
(Moe noticed Pat appeared to be unstressed.)
You did so well up to this point I wonder (What happened?)
A little time rearranging words and perhaps with a Thesaurus would have solved your problem.
I sincerely wish you would take a few minutes to fill out your bio.
By the way WELCOME to WDC. I've always received a lot from my membership in WDC since day one, all those years ago.
I sense by syntax and verb usage that English is not your first language.
You've done well so far but if you wish access to minds of the majority of readers here it wouldn't hurt to have a mentor to help you cross the bridge between you and your readers.
What you have written is of merit and deserves the best ability to communicate with readers.
Remember to fill out your bio so reviewers will have the best chance possible to judge your work fairly.
You touch a place in my heart and mind. I feel so disappointed in people who don't or cant use the tools that are in books. I seriously miss my 1200+ books that I had to leave behind. One of my most precious was a 1955 library edition of Webster's Unabridged.
I find myself reaching for books that aren't there every day.
The computer just doesn't do the same job. In the interest of making access simple and fast much has been left out. I hate that. I am a shut in now and I only get to go to the Library once every two or three months.
Good to know there are others who see the value of books.
Hi, Welcome to WDC. It functions as my window to the world. I hope your membership will provide both an opportunity to learn and the comfort of belonging. I spent some time in the Philippines in the early sixties. I miss the smiles and delicious food that I encountered.
I realize how difficult it is to think in Tagalog and write in English.
The nuances and structure of the language are so different.
This review is part of the February Raid which limits the time I have to help right now. I look forward to visiting your port and offer my help, for what it is worth. There i a new moderator in here named Samberine Everose. She is also from the PI. She might help you some. Her time is seriously limited because of her duties as moderator. But try to make contact.
You have adhered to the constraints of your chosen form.
I remember how much the aircraft carrier that I was on relied on our escorts. Hats off to the Tin Can Navy. I often thought that Tin Can sailors deserve submarine pay. They sure took a beating in the North Pacific. I remember standing watch in the freezing rain near Adak Island. It was comforting to see the lights of our escourts.
I like this tale of the reversal of the role of teacher and Student.
It celebrates the fact that you are never too old to learn.
This piece is presented in an easy to read form even for me. I'm 78 and I love to learn. My body would be in serious jeopardy if I tried to get on a bicycle again.
I like this, Your form is constant, and your message is what I have thought for years. Holes belong in prairie dog towns, or colanders not in clothing.
I like your constant rhyme scheme. Your use of cotton is refreshing. I haven't heard cotton used in that context for at least 50 years. GRIN
Welcome to Wdc. I hope you get as much from your experience here as I have through the years I have been here.
I wish that you would take the time to fill out your bio block.
It helps me to do a better review if I have some background information. Age, educational level, where you are and a bit about your life experience all help me bring you into focus in my mind's eye.
I suspect that perhaps English is not your first language. OK we have folks from many countries and backgrounds. The last I knew we have ages 8 to 80 or higher. I am 78.
My young friend I like what you started. You got over the hurdle of YOUR FIRST POST.
Some might say that your post might have been premature. I'm not one of them.
What you have written shows a talent for seeing and feeling which is a big part of the creative mindset that it takes to be a writer.
Hi.
Back in the days of Christ salt was not always in the crystalline form we think of as salt. There was a form of seaweed that grew in the sea of Galilee that concentrated salt into its leaves. This was dried and used to salt things. In and of itself after the salt was boiled out only tasteless tough stringy plants were left. This was the salt that was thrown out.
You are uniquely good at writing short pieces in an abbreviated time frame. I'm envious LOL.
Most of my efforts take hours and I let them sit and rise like loaves of bread waiting to go into the oven.
I'm not able to offer constructive criticism for a piece this good.
I fear I must go without giving you anything of value in return for what you have given me.
Touching story. You are sensitive enough indeed to share the plight of the magnificent tree you so eloquently describe. It breaks my heart that men carelessly cut down what took so long to grow. I used to work with hardwood to make furniture. I miss my tools. It was always my aim to extend the life of a magnificent piece of wood and give it the lasting respect that it deserves. Some of my pieces have been hand polished by grandchildren of the original owners. I get a sense of joy knowing that I have been included in the life of a tree.
I've never been a university professor but I taught as an adjunct in a trade school. Same thing, paid a pittance. Having to walk carefully into the parking lot to avoid being knifed because I refused to accept total disrespect. Far too many of my students were only in school for the money short term with no thoughts toward their future.
Great description. I was sitting on the branch next to the little OWL.
I must have missed something because the voice must have come from somewhere? I sense this might have been intended for one person who would understand.
That isn't fair to me. I want to know where the voice comes from. Who is Louis?
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