Well, I just read a tale with an unexpected twist. Really, who is ready to discover a murder and then be killed also? I found the dialogue to be realistic and it told the story without any embellishment. To quote the final line good for you.
You describe the tender exhaustion of a mother. As you have expressed a baby is needy in a unique way. It can seem non-ending. Finding the required energy takes strength and commitment. That care of a newborn can seem to be an impossible obstacle. Great take on the prompt.
First of all, yes, this poem does have a rhyme. It is fun to read aloud and it flows smoothly. I wish sometimes that I resided where Spring actually arrived at a predictable time and Winter did not linger for what seems an eternity. There have been times when snow is still accumulating in June. Too often the local weather segues from snow and frost to intense humidity. Your final stanza is one of optimism. I cannot wait for Spring.
Well, this nightmare sequence is chilling. It is chaotic, strange and frightening, but then do dreams ever make sense? It seem somewhat normal at the beginning, but then you wrote of a beard, a screwdriver and a woman. Kind of a brutal false-beard attachment procedure. Of course Jonathan winced. I cannot fathom appropriating a suit from a figure in a wax museum. Abraham Lincoln seemed to be a ghost. Is this eluding to the sanctity of truth? Stranger and stranger.
The final two sentences sum up pregnancy perfectly. You really won't be endlessly pregnant. It only feels like it. As someone who can commiserate with three pregnancies of my own, that nine months does seem to stretch on for an eternity. Our bodies are phenomenal though with all they endure. We soon learn as you point out that kids arrive when they are ready. Going past term is usually just annoying. The kid has us trained from the start. Thanks for awakening my memories.
I must say I like the concept behind this story and how you ran with it. I can see the incredulous look of the sixteen-year old boy as he tore open the gift. The twins are devious, yet well-meaning. I found some issues with your use of ". It should be placed after the punctuation such as a period or a question mark. What'ca got there"? This should be "Whatcha got there?" but why should be But why. And it total worked should be totally worked. This is a funny, heartwarming story.
This poem was fun to read out loud. It flowed and rhymed. I assume naff means terrible and faff means something like disaster? Gruntin and goaning ...do you mean groaning? I could see this as a children's book with wonderful illustrations.
This story is an affirmation of family. It is not always wine and roses. It can be messy, inconvenient, disruptive, loud, demanding and still loving. Change such as death and addictions are inevitable. Garages and habits need to be swept. The pacing is natural as is the dialogue.
This intrigued me. My husband is a former competitive figure skater. Your story is factual and realistic. You named the jumps that world class skaters must be able to execute. You hinted at the tensions and the presence of coaches. It is a lifestyle in which everyone judges. All actions are scrutinized. The rumour mill flourishes. Motives are questioned. Romance is possible.
Ah, the excess time that must be filled due to retirement. What to do? I applaud Charlie's commitment to exploring his curiosity. The dialogue is believable. Neighbours do speak to each other and engage in conversations. With time on his hands, Charlie revels in sharing. I did laugh at some of his burning questions. Sometimes, the world is perplexing. The English language enjoys its quirks. I noticed on e wee oversight. Ive just come back from the dentist. Yep, the ' is missing. The ending is to be expected yet still amusing. Great use of the prompt words/phrases.
Well, the first fact is that this woman most likely looks her age with wrinkles, and grey or white hair. That mirror is not the magic glowing orb of a fortune teller. It cannot reflect lost dreams or memories. Those are guarded in the vault of her mind. The cold, hard truth is that no one can see within its depths, but her. Her experiences and her reactions to them are solely hers to carry. Yes, we may hear her explain herself, or describe events, but we cannot know them as she does. Her history is exclusive to her alone. In reality, not all dreams or aspirations are solely for the young and thus not all expectations are lost never to be lived. Perhaps, yes, physical feats of strength and endurance may be relegated to the murky realm of what if. At seventy it might be prudent to admit derring-do is no longer feasible. It is a fact that with age comes wisdom, or at least the reasoning to think before one leaps. There is no shame in practising caution. It is a fact that the world offers so much to intrigue and entertain us. The mind never ceases to seek inspiration. It strives to explore and understand. Curiosity compels us no matter our age. Asking questions does not hurt. Remaining aware of those who share this earth with us is doable at any age. Everyone has something to share. Some of us have relatable stories. The real fact is that no man/woman is an island.
Ah, the colour from the laughter of children must be glorious. I imagine it to sparkle. This is a story of magic and sadly most of us leave that belief behind us as we morph into adults. How wonderful and sweetly simple of a bird creating something beautiful simply because it is her nature to do so. Art for the sake of art, no excuses, no apologies, no permission. Nature provides that for those of us who will notice. Thanks for this charming story. Happy Easter.
I read your Bio and I must tell you I too am from Cambridge, Ontario. I grew up in Preston, but I no longer live there. I chose this particular story to read because my name is Sandra. Unlike this Sandra I have never consulted a psychic for advice. You have a great story here of a chance meeting and the start of something bigger. A single tear roll down her cheek. It should be rolls down her cheek. Some of your sentences seem long and awkward. Feeling shy with her ginger coloured hair blowing in the wind. This could be construed as she is shy because of her red hair. Is that your intent? Jumping up his owner's legs. Isn't the dog a female hence jumping up her owner's legs.
I like that this story is initially told from a young child's viewpoint. Yes, what must a baby or a toddler think when they are thrust into the lap of a bearded stranger once a year in front of an audience? Is that red and white figure a stuffed toy? It is a brief encounter that's for sure.
This reads like the first chapter of a book. Okay, I am now intrigued. What happened to Roger? Great use of the prompt words. I like Roger was like a small combustion engine. Wonderful description. Always vigilant for curtain twitchers. That's one way to describe the nosey neighbours.
I love the rollicking rhythm of this fun poetry. What person can claim to never have blurted out an ill-timed complaint or wish into the stratosphere? Most of what we wish away never happens and we forget our outburst. What a tragedy it would be to lose colours entirely. Your rhymes are easy and unforced. I could envision this in a children's book.
This is a heartfelt piece of writing in honour of your mom. I like that you respect everything your mother has done for you. As a mother I can relate that I never tire of hearing and sharing I love yous.
Aww, dementia is a cruel thief. As you now know intimately it does not discriminate. It ravages everyone without mercy. We are our memories. They matter. We are our achievements, our experiences, our opinions. To lose your mother long before her physical death is heartbreaking. Yes, dementia is the long goodbye. Hugs.
This is a poignant story. Without baldly stating it you have illustrated a father's fear. Dreading a child's harm is something all parents live with. Some have faced this reality in its most frightening manifestation. It is never forgotten or taken lightly. The fact that it can occur in an instant and cannot be controlled can be crippling. Accidents happen. It's a fact of life. The trauma they leave behind is haunting.
This is a beautiful affirmation of being. You describe a magical, fertile place of your childhood and you write with reverence. The love and connection you feel is apparent with every word you write. We must live to touch the earth. This is a great sentiment.
Ah, the working miserable sharing their mean thoughts. The narrator believes in spreading his malaise. Life sucks, so everyone should suffer. Everyone in this story has experienced bad days. I can envision a positive, almost bubbly person presenting as annoying. Is there an inkling of remorse in the final paragraph? I like that dialogue carries this story and it is realistic. There are some places where the " is missing at the end of a line. "Are you going to stop being as dick?" I believe this is a typo and should be a dick. I read this as the beginning to a longer story.
I enjoyed this short story. It has a flow, a rhythm to it. The use of dialogue to tell the tale works well. The conversation between the couple is realistic and believable. Despite their simmering disagreement they have a vital connection.
Far be it for a child to understand at least half of what a parent did. Somewhere along the road to maturity we may realize that our parents are people, too. They are complicated, strange, and yes, funny. Now I have this rather odd image in my mind. Cat in Mouth Disease. Sure.
Food does tend to either repel us or bewitch us. Personally I like to taste everything at least once. Sigh, too many edibles entice me on an on-going basis. Your writing style is funny and relatable. Raw peanuts smashed to smithereens. Ah, the sacrifices those peanuts make for our palates. I relate to what a mother will do. Amen to just love.
This is a beautiful ode to the new possibilities of Spring: budding relationship, budding flora. The humble, iconic dandelion is representative of Spring. "While hope is yet green and tender." Lovely.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/reviews/nannamom/sort_by/r.review_creation_time DESC/page/3
un: 
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Community Feed
Puzzle Hub
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Sheets
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
Workspaces
