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THE FORD

I find that I stumble now
unlike in my days of youth
yet I just keep on somehow
in my search for lasting truth.

This stream upon whose banks I walk
once was slow and wide.
As time continues its slow stalk
all my loved ones gain the other side.

And as my trek proceeds upstream
the flow narrows as I go.
Cooling days make my breath steam
this jaunt becoming ever more slow.

I pause and look with abrupt start
ashes in my spirit, aches in bone.
I realize I have become apart.
It's clear that I am now alone.

The stream has now become a brook
that in younger days I'd jump across.
As I continue on I look
while high above old trees' limbs toss.

Another pause on this chill day.
With a few more steps I spot a ford.
Is this where I'll cross to go away
to achieve final reward?

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content

Comments

What a juxtaposition between the title and the closing line. I was struck by the description of the table, “claw feet”, suggesting an aura of menace or at the least a threat.

Mario Vitale

"claw feet"?

author comment

at "unlike at the first" but like mark, think that it could be made a little smoother. Not sure how but...
~ Gee.
.

There is value to commenting and critique, tell us how you feel about our work.
This must be the place, 'cause there ain't no place like this place anywhere near this place.

But changing it will require changing at least one other line; I'll see what I can do..........

author comment

you could get by with just saying "not like at the first" That way you don't have to change anything else.

There is value to commenting and critique, tell us how you feel about our work.
This must be the place, 'cause there ain't no place like this place anywhere near this place.

I'm still thinking on this and am tending toward changing 2 lines

author comment

The first two stanzas drew me in up to S3 L4 where I felt a little jolt in the meter. I think all critiques here are productive, so I have nothing to add to them except to say how much I can relate to this poem and its outstanding imagery. I can easily imagine that old Ford in its process of demise. You have written a splendid description of our later lives.
~ Marthalyn

All ideas are valued by me. I'm kinda tied up with the workshop and real life right now but it has become obvious I need to tweak this one a bit when time allows

author comment

Since this poem only came back up due to an edit it should be obvious that I am open to suggestions. But I often let a bit of time pass between edits so don't be discouraged if you don't see immediate change lol. But when I Do edit this one your suggestions will be given serious thought. Thank you.....stan

author comment

You just got to keep moving even when their loss and your too shattered to crack and cry so you sit and watch slowly pass by . Because you indulge yourself within clutches of your own self made truth towards the enigma of life.

Hlm life without literature is a life without logic.

Thanks for dropping by and I hope you are doing well

author comment

Well I’m supposedly good what I’m mean by that is that I’m better than what I was but not exactly 100% when I’m standing my mind and head is like flickering lightbulb brightening up and just as quickly fading out.

Hlm life without literature is a life without logic.

Well I’m supposedly good what I’m mean by that is that I’m better than what I was but not exactly 100% when I’m standing my mind and head is like flickering lightbulb brightening up and just as quickly fading out.

Hlm life without literature is a life without logic.

to know you are getting better

author comment
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