What a beautiful story poem. My favorite time of year has always been Christmas. It makes sense that my favorite job was as Regional Sales Director for Christmas Around the World. My son got to experience Christmas about 9 months of the year.
I can remember when my son asked me if I truly believed in the jolly guy in a red suit, and I explained that I definitely did. He's 40 now, and we've had many discussions about this. I think that he might understand now
As one who is struggling with health problems myself and worried about health problems of my lived ones, I have asked so many to pray for us. Prayer does work.
My only suggestion would be to capitalize the word "I". Seeing it written otherwise is a distraction.
What a great poem, Jim! I love the idea of incorporating a list of words such as these into a poem.
What fun to discover bodkin as the first word. A man who I once knew used that word to describe the pointed tool that he used to punch holes in leather as he made belts.
Of the remaining words, I must admit that I had to research only one. Perhaps reading the dictionary and encyclopedias when there was nothing else available did add a few words to my vocabulary.
So few words, but you easily got the story across. I am always delighted to find people who can tell a story in few words. That is not one of my strengths.
I had to grin as I realized where your story was taking us. Yes, indeed, once upon a time, our elders had quite the stories about how babies were delivered.
I like your poem, Jason. If only the world worked that way, with each of us able to judge those around us as the Good Lord does.
But that would be in a perfect world and our world is anything but that.
Even so, it's good to remind ourselves about how each of us should be. After all, the only one we can really change is ourselves.
This is a good story, Pappu Kumar . It's the kind of story that we used to expect from every ethnicity, showing off their creative skills to present the stories of their families and community members. It's too bad that we don't see enough of this now.
Raj's tapestry's threads told the stories of love, hardship and resilience. Those same stories should be shared by today's artists, whether they are using threads, paints or words.
That certainly seems like a memorable Christmas. Why? Because love was there.
Baby boomers often gather together in person or online to discuss the toys and gadgets we recieved as gifts throughout the years. Usually we remember owning a Betsy Wetsy or a Shirley Temple doll, but we can't remember when we got them. But we always remember things like visiting relatives and singing around the piano.
And that's the way it should be.
Thanks for sharing. Many of us have memories of times when we had less things...but more love.
What a great story. Back when we all wrote lots of mail, this was a very typical problem. Today, maybe it's even worse? Hitting send for an email or text message could be just as tragic.
Although what his mom did was not exactly legal, since mail is supposed to be opened by the person to whom it addressed, I can see how her reaction would have been endearing.
This popped up when I hit the Rate and Review button. I love the randomness of that!
I happen to love the holidays, eggnog and rituals or traditions, as well as acrostic poetry. I just wish that our winter holidays were not in the winter. I have always hated cold and snow.
This one tugs at my heart strings. My brother was homeless on and off for over 20 years by choice. He was also an alcoholic who pickled his liver and went to the hospital about every 6 or 8 weeks to have the fluid built up in his abdomen drained. One day, he had the fluid drained for the last time. He died sleeping on the sofa of a friend that night.
What I learned from my brother's funeral was that homeless people are some of the best friends anyone can have.
Because of all of that, I am sometimes drawn to stories about the homeless. They are usually misunderstood.
Thanks for sharing. My nephew could have written something like this.
I love this! I had a discussion about this very thing a few days ago. It seems as if people who are definitely dog people are often chosen by God to embrace a very special cat. Or two. And being lovers of animals, our hearts melt for our special kitties as well as our dogs.
You explained well how she seemed to know exactly how to dog her way into your heart.
Thanks for writing about your mother. Ever since my own mom passed away, I have wanted to write a poem about her. But each time that I began, I didn't like how it was progressing. This might just offer the inspiration that I have needed.
I love this line
We'll sing awhile and love each tune
and there forever stay.
Somehow I imagine that there is going to be a huge family choir in Heaven singing around the piano just like we used to during holiday celebrations.
It hurts when politicians tell you that you are not good enough, doesn't it? I've been criticized by Obama for being a Bible thumper and by Hillary for being deplorable. And it only got worse from there.
Today, I remind people that under President Trump we had lower taxes, lower food prices, lower gas prices, lower utility costs, energy independence, a more secure border and no new wars.
It's pretty obvious that you were hurting when you wrote this. Hopefully, life has improved since then.
A few suggestions:
Your not better than me for sure I just wear all my pain on my sleeve for all to see
You just hide yours a little better than me but your no different than me
Should be "you're not better than me."
Please sit me free from me first than everyone else I plead
Sharing your chronic illness via poetry is interesting. You're right that high blood pressure is something about which everyone should be aware.
Reading this made me realize that I have never attempted to write a poem about fibromyalgia or the dozens of conditions that accompany it. Nor have I ever written anything about my massive heart attack. I wonder if I should.
That's an interesting form of poetry. Just as interesting are your words about building a wall. It sounds as if you are building both a physical one and as a mental separation from everyone and everything else.
That begs the question, is this a reality or just a poem?
I think that your attempt was very good. You were a touch cryptic about what happened to you back then, but did mention almost dying and trying to heal. I hope by now that has happened for you.
You mentioned trying to remember the things for which you should be grateful. That is always important.
Your description says that you are describing someone's loneliness. (You spelled it wrong.) But I'm not totally convinced that is true. This person describes being alone, but the way that you have worded it, it makes being alone seem like a favorable condition.
Other than that little misspelling, I wouldn't necessarily change anything. But then again, I might change the description to asking the question, "Are people who are alone always lonely?"
Thanks for sharing.
Blessings,
Kenzie
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