This is a nice poem about the half awake, half dreamy state in the morning when one is awakened briefly by the pattering of the rain drops on the roof top.
And, the poet wonders--
And as I listen
to the birds in the rain,
still choosing to chirp,
I wonder—
It is indeed a wonder that when humans prefer the cosy bed, the birds enjoy the rain and chirp gleefully. How much far have we come from nature!
You have written a beautiful poem. The first and last stanzas are:
The autumn leaves have changed.
From green to sun-kissed orange.
They litter the ground,
Falling without sound.
..........
............
But now we are older and our time has come.
I've lived so long, longer than some.
I think back now on those wonderful days,
Knowing those leaves will clutter my grave.
>>> It is a pity this poem is the only item in your port. I suggest you write more.
This poem is titled--"Terrorism on American soil".
Like most other readers, I thought it would be about the twin tower tragedy. However, what was in store was a terrorism on the American soil let loose about 500 years ago, described as follows--
"Death is coming and will soon be near,
The women hold their children in fear.
No one in their tribe had ever dreamt,
Of the men on horses and their contempt."
****
I have been to USA a few times. During one of those visits, I happened to read a book that described in gory detail the cruel atrocities committed upon the indigenous people by the invaders. Those details are unforgettable. Your poem brought those to my mind once again.
This poem, as per its description, is --"This is a silly poem about an instrument that takes measurements of altitude."
While the poem itself may be silly, it is a bit surprising that the description of the instrument itself is, excuse me, silly.
***
As per the dictionary,
kymograph
ˈkʌɪmə(ʊ)ɡrɑːf/
noun
an instrument for recording variations in pressure, e.g. in sound waves or in blood within blood vessels, by the trace of a stylus on a rotating cylinder.
I am perplexed and confused and at a loss to decide how I should rate this item. It is described, twice, as poetry but it is anything but a poem. Since it is described as poetry twice, that description is unlikely to be a typo. However, if you meant to say it is a poem, there is no way I can accept that. Even free, unrhymed verse has its limits beyond which the concept cannot be stretched.
For the above reason, I am constrained to rate this item as one star, much against my reviewing and rating methodology [my average rating over thousands of item is around 4].
No wonder this story has 114 ratings averaging 4.5 stars. I am adding my own five stars to it. You described this piece as "A satire on people who play the lottery". As a matter of fact, I feel this is a satire on the people (such as the sister in law here) who unauthorisedly fiddle with others' table and things and pick up, without the knowledge of the owner, what they fancy.
"The Night I Ate My Words" is a wonderful story that already has 295 reviews rated 4.5 on the average. This should be reason enough to investigate what is so special about this static item. The investigation revealed that the high review and rating were fully justified. The plan of the story is certainly a novel one. Quite creative!
I had trouble fully comprehending the idea behind this poem, as well as the use of words.
The opening stanza is:
Rain spread nail polish
over the city
and glittered on
the sidewalks,
urging the flat world
to perk up to life.
>>> Rain spread nail polish over the city and glittered on the sidewalks, urging the flat world
to perk up to life.
***
Why should rain spread nail polish over the city?
Do the rain drops glitter only on the sidewalks? Why not on the main road? [The rain drops are more likely to glitter on the metalled road rather than on the side walks where they are more likely to be absorbed into earth.]
As regards--"urging the flat world to perk up to life", what is the significance of flat world here?
This poem is about change in life and its importance. Reading it, I felt it has scope for improvement, though I cannot pin point something in particular. A poem is like beauty-- one is just struck by it, unable to analyse and explain why.
This is a nice poem. I particularly liked the following stanza for its poetic beauty--
Now she can finally say goodbye.
The last road was the longest and saddest of all.
She began to fade away to the naked eye
Still surrounded by the mist of the dead.
NOTE--You talk about a parchment that she held in her hand. I was not able to understand that part.
This is a very nice poem that describes life in a maga-city, a jungle of concrete, with endless flow of cars and pollution.
The scene is well described as--
I am lost ~11~
In the megacity I live in ~12~
This concrete jungle called Shanghai ~13~
Traffic signs change at odd intervals ~14~
But no one cares anyway ~15~
This is a wonderful poem about a child with cancer, 8 years old, destined to die, who decided to give some joy to others by acting as a jester and, later, also as a magician. It is awful to imagine this to be true, and for someone to write an excellent poem about it. Congrats. Write on!
This is a nice little story spun remarkably well around the prompt--"You are traveling from Moscow (Russia) to Hoek van Holland (Netherlands) by train. Somebody is missing at a certain moment and you're one of the key witnesses. What happens next?"
It would have been next to impossible for me to respond to this prompt (I don't write stories). However, you have done it very well.
I was unable to find any love in it. As a matter of fact, I could not really comprehend as to what is the message here. Maybe my fault. However, my task was not made easier when I read and tried to understand it.
For example, the last stanza reads--
"Asking not for as I crash with Earth,
A flower to my sound.
We’re quite. We know.
Love was my goal."
It is a picturesque account, mostly imaginary, of sunset on the eastern shore, the day time worldly activities giving way to the night play of fairies, elfins, mermaids and unicorns, while "Rock trolls awake to roll like beating drums".
Only a poet (and young children) can imagine these things, and describe them in detail!
Standing beneath a starless sky, we wait –
before the bonfire; baited breath,
an air of expectation hangs over the crowd.
AND, ends with--
Then the lights go out, the show ends.
The clouds disappear. We see the natural stars.
****
To me, this gave a clear message that man has so much polluted the environment by wasting electricity to produce intense artificial light that the stars in the sky are not visible.
[Of course, there is the possibility that the show started in the early evening when there were no stars in the sky.]
I don't know how to comment on this poem. It is written very well. But what does it say? That those who love this woman are bound to fail. The reason is described as follows:
I live in a fantasy world.
No one has a key.
My bright shining knight,
you never had a chance
loving a woman so lost in her past.
Do not be overwhelmed, my darling.
it's a futile task that doesn't matter.
We know the glue won't stick.
If I made sense,
a boring woman I would be.
This is a nice poem describing the family reunion at Christmas.The feelings of various persons, old and young, are well portrayed, including the wonder of young children at seeing "the forest so green".
The children sat in silence,
Amazed at their first look at the forest so green.
Each tree seemed to touch the cloudy sky
With strength and beauty, they've never seen.
***
they've never seen
>>> they had never seen.
--M C Gupta
========================
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