I really enjoyed your story/memoir for several reasons. First, the subject reminded me that I've always been a "faller", and not when I was a kid. In adulthood, I began practicing the art of unintentionally tumbling downward. It started when I bought myself a horse in my 20s.
As I progressed into 30s, 40s, 50s I made falling down a habit -- and without a horse! Those cement parking lot bumpers gave me lots of trouble. Friends, family became used helping me off my face sprawled on hot-as-hell asphalt parking areas.
As I read on, your references to your little kids sent me down on memory lane and remembering all the times I needed assistant from now and then. Like when asking them to unlock rooms they had slipped inside as I stood outside the door gently coaxing. When time to help pick up innumerable toys strewn everywhere, they became sick or tired or had to go to the bathroom. Every time.
I loved the details you wrote about all the thoughts running through your head in the moments before your BLAM! Those parts of your story amazed me just how many ideas in a blink of eye that visited your mind.
You wrote such an entertaining and humorous story, and filled with inner thoughts that I imagine many people could relate to. As a bargain hunter (translation: cheap), I chuckled about you passing the $1.99 ice melt.
Glad you survived! Even though we don't get much cold weather on the Gulf Coastal Plains, I've searched for some ice cleats ... just in case:
Your poem takes the reader on a harrowing experience at sea, vividly described and presented with an effective poetry form that adds to the tale with pleasing rhyme and rhythm.
Stanza by stanza, the sailor’s troubles increase as he tries to keep the Molly Fair afloat and survive an angry storm.
S1: then rocked the waves so fierce against his craft.
S2: He climbed the mast with heavy rope / to tie the broken ends and hope
S3: until the mast again came crashing down. / So he surrendered to the storm -
S4: The storm with fury tore the boat / and left the sailor out to float
This poem is filled with drama and action, enhanced by the poet’s skillful description of the sailor’s desperate efforts during the storm. The reader learns that, although his knowledge of the boat was great, the storm’s destructive powers were greater.
its strength outmatched this human form –
At last, it’s a relief to know the sailor survived, even though the Molly Fair did not.
Til finally, the storm had past / sailor and raft had peace at last.
I always enjoy a poem with a 'Man vs Nature' theme, and this poem is an excellent example.
( The only suggestion I would make is, in the last stanza, change past to passed. )
Thank you for sharing your captivating poetry and story-telling talents!
Beginning your poem with two lines of onomatopoeia expresses that urgency people often feel when taking a taxi … “Get me there, and QUICKLY!” However, the following lines of your poem express the feeling of the prompt image – a busy urban setting, stuck in a traffic jam of vehicles with places to go but hindered in actual movement. The last line says it all --
Small poem that packs a big punch. As a person who grew up in hot, dry Central Texas, it takes me back to those summers I remember so well. Our family used to take drives in the rural areas where farmers raised such crops as cotton and sugarcane and corn. I was witness to that “ruthless sun” and the big blue Texas sky that seemed so stingy with rain.
I’m not sure if this is autobiographical, but I suspect it is – which is why I think it’s so touching, beautiful, and heartfelt. The rhyme and rhythm are quite well done.
For me, the snowflake and daffodil are symbolic. Both are Nature's fragile offerings, and the loss of a loved one makes us feel fragile, too. There is definitely a vulnerable quality to this sad and lovely poem.
Personification of grief in the second stanza was spot-on -- Then suddenly it jumps out from a box of photographs.
as well as the use of simile – Grief hangs around like clinging fog and never leaves for long,
I feel that your poem may make deep connections with those who have lost someone dear. I just lost my mom, and many moments in your poem spoke to me. It’s such an honest tribute, imbued with love and loss.
Thank you for sharing these very personal feelings, Solace.Bring
Poems speak to different readers in different ways. I’d like to share my impressions of this poem with you.
First: Before I began reading, I noticed the pleasing presentation of the poem – 5 stanzas with 4 lines in each. Font size was nice and readable.
As I Read:
For me, this poem is like a mini-roller coaster. In the first 3 stanzas, the narrator is very upbeat and hopeful, celebrating a great writing idea. A brilliant plot, it’s going to be great. / A novel, a film, a Broadway Show? However, stanza 4 begins the narrator’s descent into memory loss and doubt. Oh, no, the words are fading quickly. The final stanza ends on a ray of hope that inspiration will rise again. That last line is great and personal.
Finally: I really like your poem. The subject matter will definitely speak to writers. There Is humor, entertainment, and skillful use of poetic devices included. Thank you for sharing!
I think most people can find at least a little something to relate to in your poem. That might be apprehension that comes from the unknown or feelings of inadequacy.
I like that you began your poem with a question to coax readers to assess their feelings, making a good lead-in to the narrator’s feelings about the dark. Your poem progressed to explore the narrator’s feeling of being the very monster that frightens *them. Then, finally, your poem left the reader with the narrator’s hope of being rescued from … themself.
There is a palpable fear expressed in this poem. A couple of lines are quite gripping …
where all your bad thoughts about yourself are on repeat.
you deserve every bad thing that’s ever happened to you.
The dread in your poem is quite effective; there is almost a desperation about it. My hope is that it isn’t autobiographical.
This is a gentle little poem and, in a way, bitter-sweet. It’s an interesting take on love, and one I never consciously thought of. Even if a love dissolves between people, the love they once felt for each other was real at the time.
This poem makes me think about a bracelet my brother gave me one time. I never took it off because it meant a lot to me. Then, one day, I noticed it was gone. I don’t even know where I lost it, and I was forlorn. But I still remember exactly what it looked like and how special it was, so, in a way, I’ll have the memory of it forever.
Having said that, how much more precious is the love between two people? And if love fades, that doesn’t mean the love wasn’t genuine and to be treasured.
The bitter part of this poem is that the narrator seems to be more than a little concerned that her/his beloved will leave. It’s like the poem is a reminder that, no matter what happens, that love will remain a keepsake.
First, I’d like to say how sad it makes me to think of your suffering. Mental illness can wear you down, so I hope writing about it helps you in some way.
I find your use of contrast to show the effects of mental illness to be very effective. It gives the reader an idea of the sort of outlook you had earlier in life and how different it is to your present state of mind. He sees the wrongs of the world, He used to want to conquer the world.
I like the way you open by mentioning hollow eyes and returned to it at the end. The close of your poem really says it all. … He used to care.
Just one suggestion … Since you’re using punctuation, the proper ways to connect two complete sentences follow.
1. period at the end of sentence one and begin next sentence with a capital
(He sleeps every day. He used to sleep every night.) or
2. semi-colon at the end of first sentence and begin next sentence with a lower-case letter
(He sleeps every day; he used to sleep every night.)
This is an emotional outpouring about a serious issue that affects many, many people in our society. However, one thing shines through this entire poem, and that is the importance of your family to you.
Thank you for sharing such a personal aspect of your life. I wish you peace.
This is so clever! ... and seasonally appropriate! You really captured the spirit of a glass of tea - the straw, the color, and the shape of the glass - with just a few words and characters, perfectly arranged. Bravo!
This is a fun play on ideas, considering crosswalks are called Zebra Crossings in some places.
The poem has nice rhythm and rhyme which makes it a great poem to read aloud.
The last 2 lines in stanza 2 gave me a chuckle. (and treats us all impartially from wealthy toff to waif.) Then, later in the poem, the reader finds that a crosswalk is NOT so fair when it comes to zebras. (For crosswalks ain't for zebra-kind. / It's prejudice, I say!)
For me, the third stanza conjured up a mental image of frazzled zebras standing on the curb trying to make a run for it and then doubling back. I guess zebras have problems I never even considered!
The last 2 lines in the last stanza are my favorites. Who doesn’t want a zebra to prevail, I ask? (But zebras are such wily beasts, / they'll find another way.)
I think this story-poem would make a fun and happy picture book for kids!
Thanks for sharing your wordsmithery! Solace.Bring
This small poem is just beautiful, reminding the reader of pink’s contribution to natural lovelies.
I like the way the poem asks questions of the reader. In the beginning, it causes me to consider the dusks I’ve seen displaying pinks both soft and vivid and what a loss it would be never to have seen those displays. - (Without it there’s no evening tale.)
Line 5 brings to mind the pink hues I’ve see hidden inside shells found on the beach. Well-chosen imagery! - (that lines the shells found on the trail,)
Line 6 is a simile comparing pink to the tenderness of new love. – (as delicate as first-time love?)
This poem has an ethereal gentleness that I really enjoy. Nicely done!
Thanks for sharing your wordsmithery! Solace.Bring
Wow, is this ever a bitter-sweet piece of writing! It brought to mind a best friend I had when I was in elementary school. She took me under her wing when I moved to a new school, and that made her all the more special. Then she moved to another town, and I didn’t get the chance to say goodbye. This poem expresses that same feeling of wistfulness I felt.
I think the metaphor at the beginning of the poem is outstanding, creating a vivid picture in my mind’s eye.
(We were two pairs of well-worn sneakers, / kicking up dust and picking up stones,)
This poem feels so authentic, too. There is the friendship (I wish I knew if I waved, / my friend.)
along with their adventures (and the juice of wild blackberries, / eaten unwashed with unwashed hands.)
and mingled with the competition of children (trying to be taller than the other, / comparing shoe sizes …).
This poem makes me feel a bit melancholy, but only in the sense that things that happen in our lives are sometimes left incomplete. It’s a nice poem; well done!
Thanks for sharing your wordsmithery! Solace.Bring
I really like this poem; it’s filled with imagery and observation.
When I read the first two words of your poem, images of green bottles began to parade through my mind. I thought about beer bottles, wine bottles, my grandmother’s water pitcher, and the green poison bottles I’ve seen in antique stores.
Your descriptions and word choice stuck me as powerful:
of colours shifting, always changing, / almost black in shadowed places, / light and airy in others.
great swathes of pure colour / in the belly of the rounded body,
a kaleidoscope of sensual feeling.
Your poem points out the complicated nature of the color green displayed in glass, the way it changes in different light and shapes. I think it gives voice to the reasons people are attracted to glass, and the ways glass conveys color.
but my green is a land of constant shifts, / turning with the ephemeral light / to be first one thing,
then another,
My favorite color has always been green, but I never consciously considered the qualities and changeability of “bottle green”. I’ll never see it again without thinking of your very illustrative poem.
Thanks for sharing your wordsmithery! Solace.Bring
This is a compelling poem asking hard questions. In each of the first three stanzas, ideas are linked together to build intensity. I like the way stanza 4 refers back to the previous stanzas’ remarks about killing, hate, and fighting. That contributes to the continuity of the piece. The last stanza ends with a punch with the repetition of the word when. There is almost a sense of desperation and insistence there.
I find this to be the most impactful line because it highlights the ultimate danger of the fears this poem elicits.
This is a lovely poem filled with strong imagery, and it conveys a peaceful mood. It’s clear that the speaker feels a connection with nature. I like that, even though the speaker has taken a different route, the feel of the place is still familiar.
This poem reminds me of one of my favorite walking trails that goes through a wooded area and comes to an end at a county park which has a small lake and plenty more trees. Like the speaker in the poem, I enjoy spending time in those woods because the place is mellow and comforting.
Some of my favorite lines in the poem:
~ … where steady steps knead / Away anxiety, the solitude a balm.
~ it’s a familiar comfort, just a different view.
~ If life is the work of a being outside of time / Church is not my place of worship, let this be mine.
The expression of spirituality in the last stanza emphasizes how truly important that connection to nature is.
To me, this is a “poet’s poem”. What I mean to say is that this is a piece a poet can appreciate and relate to -- and has probably, at some time or other, experienced him/herself.
I love the imagery in the poem – the comparison of thoughts and ideas to threads or pieces of tangled yarn that must be manipulated so as to find order and meaning.
The second stanza reminds me of times I’ve thought of something I wanted to write about but have had to linger with and pick apart and rearrange those ideas.
My favorite part is the last stanza where, after focused work and effort, a poem comes into being.
This is an interesting and artistic story of the gestation and birth of a poem.
What a strong and touching tribute this is to the dog who came as a stray and stayed to become a special part of the writer’s life. I never know if a poem’s story is made up or is autobiographical, but this one, I suspect, is about the poet’s own dog. She sounds too real to be fictitious, and there is a quality about this poem that feels like such a sincere remembrance of the dog.
The use of imagery and figurative language help me to imagine her in certain ways. She came to me as if wind blown, She pranced out of a shadowy zone. She begged in an emphatic tone,
These lines hint to me about the “specialness” of this dog to her owner. She came to me. Twenty years now, my dear delight
I think the end of the poem can only be truly appreciated by anyone who has loved and lost their good and true dog. A dog lives too short a life but long enough to become an integral part of its human pack. The loss of a dog hits deep and hard, and is, as the poet points out, utterly mournful.
To me, the last line is important because it reiterates how close a partnership the writer and the dog had.
As I write this review, I’m reminded of my wonderful, intelligent dog who died three years ago. She wasn’t just my pet; she was my friend. I wish she was still with me, and I will always miss her.
First Impressions: I’m a night owl, so the title of your poem caught my eye!
What Works: *Sensory images: … pitter patter of the rain / Like white noise, … water slapping the wooden stairs
*Repetition - 2am was the time to be alive - in the beginning and ending of the poem
*Personification: Rocking the world as it slept
Suggestions: 3rd stanza, last line – change has to had
Finally: I like this poem; it sounds like a poem written from one’s actual experience. And, too, it plopped me right into the middle of a late-night thunder storm! Nicely done.
I think my fingers slipped off the proper keys when I sent a donation to your free verse poetry contest. Sorry about that; here's what I meant to send!
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For me, this poem is like a mini-roller coaster. In the first 3 stanzas, the narrator is very upbeat and hopeful, celebrating a great writing idea. A brilliant plot, it’s going to be great. / A novel, a film, a Broadway Show? However, stanza 4 begins the narrator’s descent into memory loss and doubt. Oh, no, the words are fading quickly. The final stanza ends on a ray of hope that inspiration will rise again. That last line is great and personal. 
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