You open with a statement, loud and clear,
to keep us reading on to find the why.
But on we go. It's Luke that we first hear.
We see the same old thing and start to sigh.
Then, from the shadows of the middle lines,
as Luke gets help from Mathew—Peter, too
the story takes the turn that it defines.
My thrashing guilt delivers marks of blue.
Fight not the flesh, but spirit, so you say,
where wickedness builds traps that we all know.
Will unbelievers change and save the day?
Or will God's Word now simply end the show.
The turn delivered in the final line,
is one that needs no magic to define.
You've given us just what the title expects us to find. A pair of sad eyes reflecting on things that might account for the sadness. This is a good job of making sure the reader knows the inner conflicts of the sad-eyed boy. But that is not a story.
The sad eyes at the beginning are still contemplating the sad situation with Regret. Perhaps, if the sad-eyed boy did something at the beginning to show his sad state of mind and then considered those various issues which brought about his sadness, he could either end the story being less sad or more sad. The story would then be the change in his perspective.
Good luck with this. There is a story here if you can find a way to let his character show and change.
When Paddy's Day comes around next
Let's send him a personal text
If he's got what it takes
to get rid of snakes.
the damn things have got me perplexed.
Some folks tell us that snakes are Okay
It's nature at work so they say
I hear that we need 'em
but don't ever feed 'em
Let's wait for St. Paddy to pray
All pushed aside and dulled by founded fears
and those who know all things fill up the maze.
They've blurred out all the wisdom of the years.
Where are the sinless brothers in this world?
Is it our lot to flounder or to win?
The flags of knowledge wave when they're unfurled
and shade the path that just might let us in.
So, without hope and nothing to be gained,
we've done our best to polish off the slate
but cannot clear what faith has so ingrained.
We wonder what's required. Is it too late?
The universe so grand, but is it true?
There's but one to decide and that is you.
Darkness cheered and dragged the mind asunder.
Those thoughts preserved press 'round to build a throng.
Triumph of the night shows crescent wonder.
The glaring orb is missing far too long.
Fear left him stranded in the nightly battle
On starways scattered with their specks of bright.
A god appears and lifts a lusty rattle.
He spat the words, "You'll never get it right!"
The darkness wins. We step into a ditch.
All hope is lost, that gods can save the day.
Now, we're informed but that's another hitch,
The darkness takes its charge, and we can't see.
"Too far!" the gods still shout out from the dark
And we concede, the night has made its mark.
I cannot bear the thought of going on,
not in the state of mind the dawning brings.
Uprooted thoughts turn then to being gone,
to shuffle off these painful mortal things.
When darkness veiled the bright and shining light
and caused this shift, a renewed love of life
My nature should have saved me with its fright.
But will the darkness save me from day's strife?
Drear agony caroused within my mind,
and issues went from thoughts to something more.
The nerve I thought had I could not find;
I gasp in shame and lie down on the floor.
Why had I failed to answer my own cry?
Oh, God, I cannot even say good-bye.
If I can get the greed out of my head
there might be something in this verse for me.
The rival smiles that grin I always dread.
his fingers crossed behind where I can't see.
Both friend and foe have learned but who can tell
with first-place prizes there dispensing dread.
Tradition says that neither did too well
but can they trust a single word we said?
What a terrific idea for fantasy, adventure, and coming of age story, all rolled into one. Plenty of complications keep the reader wrapped in the segment until the end. It doesn’t have the wordiness, repetition, and excess description that often mar fantasy yarns at the beginning.
What I liked most
Each of the characters exposes themselves in a unique way, and you let the reader discover them rather than telling them, which lets us feel closer.
My general suggestions and technical concerns
This is an excellent story segment, but it needs the rest of the story. Or, if it is part of a series, I'll just head over to Amazon and purchase the other volumes.
To contemplate such depth is what I need.
My thought is fixed too firmly where I stand.
The meter which you show I've failed to feed
into my ancient notions, which are bland.
You point to musicality, I see
and show us more than just the de-DAH beat.
John's resurrection was a key for me;
something to ponder when I'm in defeat.
Some say we’ve ruined the verse with unrhymed stuff
but I don’t think a bit of that is true.
When meter holds the hand that is enough,
to show us struggling rhymers what to do.
I thank you for this glimpse of poet's tools.
A message that is needed, by us fools.
I watch the wolf slink closer (take his chance)
Propelling slowly as a crawling bug.
No thought as to the nature of the dance
the grass beneath his paws squeezed like a hug.
The rabbit froze, his muscles taught with ache.
(I know I can't envisage all his strife).
The wolf creeps closer. He's prepared to take
the rabbit’s short and hapless life.
One moment and that nature’s scene is gone,
Its light a harsh reality of truth.
I know I’m not the course and jagged one.
I pick the pig's remains out of my tooth.
Just then, the smell of flowers from the plain
drifts in and grab my wandering thoughts away.
No further minding of that bunny’s pain,
just tracing trophies of my day at play.
Some sadness for the scene which I have lost
but not a moment more on nature’s cost
These thoughts of time pass smoothly from your pen,
Revealing interruptions seen before.
but painted with a slightly different ken,
to keep us searching on for even more.
We find a clueless pondering above,
when thoughts of grim realities set in.
They scatter bits of wealth, and health and love,
acknowledging it's our time to begin.
But looking past the little that we know,
imagining the green of promised land,
we bury friends and mothers and we grow
the patience that we need to take a stand.
Last summer's rose is rotted and decayed,
We wait the new hand dealt, but it's delayed.'
In looking back across those many years
it doesn't seem so very long ago.
But Chatty Cathy's gone; no string pulled tears,
while gingerbread and lights remain just so.
We'll not forget that yummy Christmas fudge
nor all the useless toys beneath the tree
We made the New Year promises to judge
and hung the ornaments for all to see.
Thank you for this reminder of the past.
Now, nearly ninety years. I think they'll last.
As happens when determination rules
a winning strategy brings only grief.
Here, debt relief results in feeding fools
dead sure that free lunch turns another leaf.
But, when The growling hunger steals the show
we make a mad dash down a different track.
Inflation soars with that free money flow
and all those great ideas, out of whack.
As busted bubble debris ebbs away,
we turn to face the music. No, we ran.
The broken promise lost for one more day,
we tossed the new plan A into the can.
So when you see temptation gathering round
be off to where you know you can't be found.
The nightmare in this search for what is real
leaves each of us to struggle on our own,
to find those learning moments where we feel
there’s more to be discovered than a groan.
Now, should a bolt of insight steal the show,
it's back to court along another track.
We grab what chance we can from hope's faint glow
but know the judge's view, won’t turn back.
The damage from the past, we try to say,
can never quite be shoved beneath the rug.
but forlorn dreams have never won the day,
just add more to those deep, dark holes we’ve dug.
But thank you for the truth that you derive
but lawyer fees will keep the grief alive.
I like the way you dropped in the phrase "turning" and then let us stew with it for the first page or so before you exposed the word "Werewolf" and let us chew on that for a while.
This is a super job of leading us down the path to your world, where Christy has her unique position.
There is an opportunity for improvement at the opening to begin with action and expose the other information a little at a time, rather than allowing the descriptions to lead the way.
You are off to a great start. I'm looking forward to the rest of the story.
Recreational reading, eh? That's always been the secret well of ideas and prompts which got me going in the morning. That's pretty gutsy, putting a real person in you story and letting him look over your shoulder while you find a spot for him. Good luck with that!
I have heard that writing a journal is an interesting and helpful activity for some, but I've never had the nerve to try it. It might force me to think about what I'm doing and that could spoil my whole day. Your few words here certainly raised the issues that concern you.
What a unique way to build a story. You've grabbed our attention by using February 29th to make us feel at home and then, concocting this interesting idea of backwards day as the conflict to resolve.
Socrates, misguided yet beguiling
shows us here a truth that's best forgotten.
It paints the know-it-all as right and smiling
but places blame in a way that's rotten.
Buried 'neath his wise and ancient skin
there lived a wise ancient heart
reflecting on that all too ancient sin
of wanting someone else to make the start.
Walls have their place as your blog clearly shows.
But used to stifle thought it comes up short.
A wall requires some thought from one who knows
and not a gag for countering retort.
To contemplate such depth’s too much for me.
My faith is fixed too firmly on the ground.
Without it, we would always fail to see
The stark resolve required, which Joseph found
You point to fatherhood for all to see
how Joseph helped set Jesus on his feet.
Without concession that for him and me,
We all require until our last retreat.
Some say we’ve ruined the world with modern stuff
but don’t believe a bit of that is true.
Faith holds back evil's hand and that's enough,
to give us strength, in spite of what they do.
I thank you for this glimpse of Joseph's past.
A message that'd well done, and it will last.
Well settled in her path of verse and prose,
Sumojo grabs the oars and gives a tug.
We see a life of meaning, just like those,
we all find, looking back at holes we’ve dug.
But buried ‘mongst bits and how things fall,
are truths we must face and look for more.
The folks gone by, like pictures on the wall,
bring us to places we are searching for.
In truth, when seeing someone dig so deep,
into life's ups, and downs, and gems,
it shines a light on memories we keep
of past mistakes and ways of righting them.
Perhaps these thoughts, now laid out from your mind,
will point to other stories you can find.
I’m glad to see this verse received so well
By Cheshire, such a wordsmith of renown.
The heart beats on, we've learned but who can tell
No worry of despair or big meltdown
The heart, the core, beats strongly on from here
producing all of life, including me
You paint the heart alive emoting cheer
With hope entwined for all the world to see.
When reading of such depth and all that stuff.
I know that every bit of it is true.
for all those modern notions aren’t enough,
to shake the truth of life from what you do.
I know I'll gain a bit from what you said,
If I can keep the cobwebs from my head.
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