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Di Vanita (Revision)

I wrote once of leaves,
And their death as they do fall,
To plummet from such tumbling heights,
On nothing but the winds’ wistful call;

I wrote how they would glide,
From branch, to breeze, to ground,
And I dreamt of such vicious things,
That await their rustling sound;

I saw how they would wait,
With a sickly sort of glee,
Readying their tools to bite and drag,
When they knew it could not flee;

But I lost those words too soon,
And remember only now,
The din and clamour of many hands,
Of a loathsome, damn’d crowd,

That would take such fair leaves,
And break them down and down,
‘Til nought would then remain,
But dust upon the ground;

And as I lost that thought,
I saw her tumble to fall,
To shed in graceful autumn,
As she stood so strong and tall;

So graceful like her season,
So death-like in her love,
That I never thought to question,
Those turning tides above.

Yet I loved her to the end,
And never thought to repay,
Just what she gave me each summer.
Until that fate-less day.

Now I miss her as I dream,
And I write so of her own,
For the tide-ly seasons took my sight,
Of what she might have grown.

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Last few words: 
Right. I wrote this today, so it's obviously a very early draft (which most of what I do remains in), but I thought it might be an interesting exercise for me to get more use to taking advice and critique. So I thought we might build further on it, and refine it a bit more. All comments, advice, input, changes, whatever. Anything's welcome:)
Editing stage: 

Comments

For fuck sake for me this is dead on the money, you made me cry at the end you "Savanah Beach"
Jeez this is beautiful, maybe someone else can help you. I'm just amazed how you equated death and the fall into one formula.
Bravo dude!
Eddie C.

LIFE ISN'T ABOUT WAITING FOR THE STORM TO PASS
IT'S ABOUT LEARNING HOW TO DANCE IN THE RAIN.
VIVIAN GREENE

I had to come back to say, you took me through the forest skipping and hopping with a smooth gentle hand. once you had me out there, with the other hand you hit me with a hammer in the head wow!! no more talking to strangers for me.
Hahaha!
really what an excellent write!
I know I'll be back, it's really that good!
Eddie

LIFE ISN'T ABOUT WAITING FOR THE STORM TO PASS
IT'S ABOUT LEARNING HOW TO DANCE IN THE RAIN.
VIVIAN GREENE

I really didn't expect this sort of response, but I'm quite glad for it, and quite honoured that you'd all like it so much.

I've always had a sort of love affair with autumn, it's like it's neither here, nor there. The most graceful of the seasons, in a sadly accepting sort of way.

Yenti, that's what I love so much about writing. You can mean an infinite amount of things with but a few lines, and every bit of it is only dependent on the reader. Or, conversely, the writer.
Even in your own poem, there's the side that the tree and the leaf may be, but then there's also simply a man that's going back to the earth. There's a symmetry to that, and a beauty in the cycle of things where death becomes something other than an end.
I always appreciate (or try to) a different opinion, and I think that might be the greatest thing that I'll draw from this group in the end.

Eddie, what the hell is "Savannah beach"? And now I'm just blushing like a little girl, you damn drama queen. *giggle* shy now...

Shirli, thank you, my dear:)

And Xena, whatever I can teach, whatever I can learn, and whatever I may love that I read. Thanks, cherie:)

Yours, and everyone's here

Waldo

author comment

I still have a lot of becoming to do, which seems rather a bit of a faff with how much 'becoming' I've already done. But I'd rather have it that way, than remaining static. Death's in static, in my opinion; and I always want to try and be better.

I am glad you do have an editor's pen though, seeing as I'm pretty much terrible at things like that. Ironic given my previous statement? Perhaps. No less true though.

Yours

Waldo

author comment

It's for me funny, because it's how my mother say " Son of a bitch"
Eddie C.
I have a funny true story with that word and my mom that I post here, I think a year and a half ago, or was it two.,

LIFE ISN'T ABOUT WAITING FOR THE STORM TO PASS
IT'S ABOUT LEARNING HOW TO DANCE IN THE RAIN.
VIVIAN GREENE

I see! Now I can see EVERYTHING!
But I will have to remember that one, and snigger when people don't have a clue what I just called them. Rather malicious really... ;)

Yours

Waldo

author comment

had you not directly asked for alternative, I would have said great poem, which it is. But you Did ask so here are some ideas:
l-1 I wrote once of the leaves
l-2 delete do
l-4 delete the
l-7 change such to all the
l-11 delete and, change ready to readying
l-17 try That would take such fair leaves
l-18 add completely before down
l-20 change and to upon
l-21 change and to but
l-28 add of after turning
l-30 try with no thought to repay
l-50 tell scribbler to take a hike
please don't take this list as my saying I didn't enjoy this poem as I did, but feel free to use or discard any or all suggestions as you see fit................stan

I kinda like you Stan. You're graceful in your criticism, and I appreciate a lack of harshness in a human being. (If you indeed are one, of course... mmm...)
Regardless of species though, I see you want to make the rhythm a bit longer.
I added your changes to my draft, some of which actually were there to begin with initially. So this is what we end up with then:

I wrote once of the leaves, - Does give it a nice ring.
And their death as they fall, - This works with the change below...
To plummet from such tumbling heights,
On nothing but winds’ wistful call; - Otherwise I think it might have been a beat too long here.

I wrote how they would glide,
From branch, to breeze, to ground,
And I dreamt of all the vicious things, - I do have a tendency toward the word, 'such'...
That await their rustling sound;

I saw how they would wait,
With a sickly sort of glee,
Readying their tools to bite and drag, - Agreed, makes it more flowing
When they knew it could not flee;

But I lost those words too soon,
And remember only now,
The din and clamour of many hands,
Of a loathsome, damn’d crowd,

That would take such fair leaves, - And now you bring my 'such' addiction back, (word with @#%)
And break them completely down, - Doesn't this add weight where the rest is lighter?
‘Til nought would remain,
But dust upon ground; - Makes more sense literally, but figuratively, it changes it from absorption

But I lost that thought, - The 'But' in the previous sentence worries me.
As I saw her fall, (Am I complaining about "but's"? How peculiar.)
To shed in autumn,
As she stood so tall;

So graceful like her season,
So death-like in her love,
That I never thought to question,
Such turning of tides above. - Understandable, but less than necessary in my mind.

I loved her to the end,
With no thought to repay, - But the thought came after. There was a thought.
Just what she gave me each summer.
Until that fate-less day.

I miss her now so much,
And write so of her own,
For I never got to see,
To what she might have grown.

Do excuse the length.

Yours

Waldo

P.s. I find I like this back and forth:)

author comment

didn't catch the "but" repetition. easily cured by changing either of them to"save".....Glad some of my ideas have been of help...............scribbler (a deep south American human lol)

Welcome to Neo,
I can only offer my raw truth, the poem (for me)
is a bit corny. I feel you spent more time on the
leaves than what seemed to me to be the real
theme ... the tree. Maybe I've missed something
that everyone else has gleaned, because I can't
understand the title either, perhaps it's me.

Richard

And towards honesty on my part, I think some people may construe a lot of what I write to be corny. Not that I do, and not that's it's a bad thing if you well do.
To me, I did want to focus more on the leaves, because they are what's carried on. Not the tree, the plant; or even the woman, as some may see it.
As to the title; I don't care a lot about titles. I don't care a lot about labels. And maybe that's a flaw, but it's quite pleasant in ignorance.
Di Vanita means, "Of Vanity". It seemed to fit.

Regards

Waldo

author comment

Thank you for being open to my honesty, it has been
looked upon as being harsh or even unfeeling, which
is only rarely ever been the case. I appreciate your
explanation. As far as titles in poetry, I've never looked
at them as being "labels", we are already writing under
the label of "poetry", and perhaps I put too much significance
in titles, but I happen to think they are (or can be) an
important enhancement tool for the craft, and I also think
the wrong title will cause many to pass a poem by, but ...
that's me again.

thanks for the conversation.

and welcome again, or welcome back.

Richard

Haha! True enough:)

I didn't mean titles are labels, I just don't put much importance to them. But, again; yes, the title is what draws the reader in initially. Much the same, I suppose, as most men are drawn initially by a woman's looks. Or vice versa (yip, we do know that as well, ladies.)

And let me put it this way. I spent an entire day down in the dumps a few weeks ago, just because of one comment someone close to me made about something I wrote. I'm not accustomed to criticism, and my first reaction is still fight, instead of acceptance. But you don't learn anything that way, and I'm trying to consciously take any comment as just a good opinion, which it is.

So, I won't call you harsh, nor unfeeling. Both of these would be quite odd, considering where we are, and what's done here. Hence, give me your honesty, and I'll try to learn from it.

Yours, and your honesty's

Waldo

author comment

As A New Comer
You Must Know

Scribbler and Moon man
Are the two who give?
Excellently frank reviews
Scribbler still reads me
Off and on,
But the latter placed me
In the garbage can,
Where I rightly did belong
Then municipal guys came and ran
Took me in their van

I too write about autumn leaves,
Many poems, I’ve composed
But on every site I’ve been,
They all want to say
You are a Rose
As lovely poetry,
Wow you compose.

Then there you fall flat
The next comment falls,
Like a dead rat.
You are sold to those,
Who now you follow,
But sorry to say,
You are also like us,
An autumn leaf
Of tomorrow

We all are autumn’s life!

loved

And to thy words,
I did so fall,
For Rose's tint,
Did doth so call;

You made me smile,
You made me laugh,
And oh fair rose,
I fear my fail;

For I do still think,
Upon old Moon,
And the man who gives voice,
Where others swoon;

But the price seems fair,
As I take all words,
For Scribbled or not,
They do strike chords;

Whether I would hear,
I'll still expect,
A reply to mine,
Next poem be;

And I'll take it kindly,
I'll keep my grace,
For I do think truly,
Right here's my place.

;)

author comment

Autumn Leaves

The autumn leaf in me dries
And is now merged
With the soil of time
Under the debris of eternity
The winds can't upsurge,
Nor can earthquakes part,
Nothing in life can bring
Together, torn feathers
So far apart,
From the time they part.

In Time’s coffin memories lay,
Some day perhaps
We may have a replay.

loved

all the comments, I went back to read this a couple of more times. I thought you answered the question of having focused more on the leaves, with the next to the last stanza. The tree itself was forgotten as the source of the leaves, until she died. Tha'ts what I got from it. Anyways, welcome to Neo. Nice work. ~ Geezer

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.

Good take. Cut and dry. Thanks:)

Yours

Waldo

author comment

Welcome to Neopoet. (Ed Cruz, thanks man, for pointing this poem out to me, I appreciate it very much!)

Waldo, I find this write of your's to be very good. I enjoy the rhyme, and your theme is excellent.

A few minor changes and some editing would, in my opinion, make this poem of your's even better than it already is.

As an example, take stanza 1:

"I wrote once of leaves,
And their death as they do fall,
To plummet from such tumbling heights,
On nothing but the winds’ wistful call;"

one could change it to something like this:

"I wrote once of leaves,
Their death as they do fall,
To plummet from such tumbling heights,
On nothing but Wind's wistful call;"

These changes make the cadence and pacing much easier and rhythmic, improving the flow.

Of course, your change may, and probably will, be quite different!

I leave the rest to you: given the already high quality of this write, and the speed with which you wrote it, I have no doubt that you will very quickly decide upon which direction to go.

This, and your first poem, "Moonlit eves & Sunbathed days", are excellent first poems for Neopoet, Waldo, and I'm impressed by the objectivity you have for criticisms of your work.

Again, welcome to Neopoet.

Respectfully, Race

"Laws and Rules don't kill freedom: narrow-minded intolerance does" - Race-9togo

http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/Race_9togo

Thanks. I'm saying that quite a lot, but I think that's okay.

Honestly, I don't have a clue yet as to what my changes might be. Some of the things Scribbler said makes sense to me, so I might incorporate some of them. I might this bit of yours. Or neither, and something completely different.

It's going to be a busy week for me though, so I have to say that it could take a while. But I'll edit it when I've checked it from every angle here, and you can tell me if I made it better, or worse. I always stress about making it worse.

Yours

Waldo

author comment

I send all these poets your way because I believe you will be a great addition to Neopoet.
I just wanted to find out, If you were ready to be in a real workshop. I happily can say by everyones comments you are a neopoet. so again it is my great pleasure to welcome you to our family of poets. trust me there will be disagreements, but none are personal. they will be just views
E.C.

" I believe in approaches"

LIFE ISN'T ABOUT WAITING FOR THE STORM TO PASS
IT'S ABOUT LEARNING HOW TO DANCE IN THE RAIN.
VIVIAN GREENE

But you are going to have to explain to me what exactly a workshop is, or will be. I'm quite new to this, dude. And suspicious... That said, I'm not against it, and that's a good sign.

Yours

Waldo

author comment

what it means is all of us working together to better the craft. As soon as the site is done there will be different workshop so as to work on different aspects of our poetry writing skills. the old site before it crashed was absolulty
great. We had live chat room we would discuss and created poems off the cuff. thing like write one or two lines to a poem then someone else would follow with their two lines
Right now Seren (Jay C) is starting a round Robin to join in just go to the blog "round robin" and say you want to be a part of a group. It truly is fun.
As the site goes into its finshing touches, the workshop will be more, and you get to decided weather or not you want to join in.
In the end you'll see we're just one big family, that's all over the world. The idea is to give help and get help.
Eddie C.
I hope this explanation helped. Hahaha!!

LIFE ISN'T ABOUT WAITING FOR THE STORM TO PASS
IT'S ABOUT LEARNING HOW TO DANCE IN THE RAIN.
VIVIAN GREENE

Sorry I'm only replying now, and sorry everyone else as well. My life seems to be accelerating at quite a dramatic pace (I'm not complaining, I like it), and I haven't really had an abundance of time to visit the site again, never mind working further on the poem.

I must say though, that the workshop does sound like fun in a certain sense. I can probably guarantee that my slow South African internet connection won't be able to support live chat, but I can type fast, at least.
When I get time, I'll go check out the workshop. And I want to thank you personally for calling so many people's attention to my work. It's a bit of a strange feeling, being read by so many people. Normally it's just me that goes back every now and then, reading things I've written. I think that point can be held accountable for a lot of what I see as strange in these discussions, but which has already taught me quite a bit.

Thanks, man!

Yours

Waldo

P.s. I'm going away for a few days, and spending them all by my lonesome. So, I think I shall return on Monday with a reworked "Di Vanita", and perhaps another poem or two as well.
Until then!

author comment

enjoy your freedom away from it all, Work is coming might is well rest when you can. Well enjoy yourself by yourself. That sounds a little psyco don't you think, what's the old joke, " I resemble that remark" and i really do. Hahaha!
later Bud!

LIFE ISN'T ABOUT WAITING FOR THE STORM TO PASS
IT'S ABOUT LEARNING HOW TO DANCE IN THE RAIN.
VIVIAN GREENE

I like the rest feel this is such a soft write with a lovely flow to it, Eddie sent me here to read and though I do not rhyme with my poetry I don't feel this is forced at all, my only crit and it's minor is that perhaps the final part of the poem is not quiet as strong as your opening couple of stanza's but it's a moot point because it portrays feelings and emotion so well. I am being picky. I hope to read more of you :)

Chez
"The perfect woman perpetrates literature as she does a small sin: as an experiment, in passing, to see if anybody notices it - and to makes sure that somebody does." - Nietzsche

Got a habit of rhyming, even when I mean not to:)
But thank you, and I'll get over to your own work as soon as possible. To everyone's, actually.

Right now though, I have to go write. Time and tide waits for no man, and especially not for me!

Yours

Waldo

Whatever noise the roadrunner makes; I just made it.

author comment

but I can't agree with the seeming consensus about its near perfection.
Particularly awkward poetic inversions like
And their death as they do fall,
sound off in an otherwise fairly modern idiom, contrived.

I agree with chez that you seem to have lost your way a bit after the first 4 stanzas, the change in tempo doesn't complement the change in content and intent so it feels a tad incongruous.

To be really pernickety, as I gather you won't object to from your responses to comments,
To plummet from such tumbling heights,
On nothing but the winds’ wistful call;
also feels incongruous plummet versus wistful
although
On nothing but the winds’ wistful call;
is a superb line.
again the clash of affect with
And I dreamt of such vicious things,
That await their rustling sound;

I can see how it could have been your intent in these two instances, but there is no follow through in content and imagery in the rest of the poem.

You know, it reads to me like 2 poems roughly pasted together, the last 5 stanzas being definitely inferior in style, form and content.

Heaps of potential here. I'll be very interested to see if you revise it, and how.

cheers,
Jess
A new workshop on the most important element of poetry-
'Rhythm and Meter in Poetry'
https://www.neopoet.com/workshop/rhythm-and-meter-poetry

You're an honest one, I'll give you that.

Right, now let's start...
This is why it's a good thing for other people to read what you write, because in my case, I would never have seen any of the things you pointed out. It's my tendency to simply read, and accept something as the way it is. This is not, however, the mark of a good editor, or critic. Not that I'll change much too soon in that respect, I'm kind of liking just riding it out with a blissful ease, but I do want to make this poem as good as I can. It'll probably be the most time I've spent on one poem, but I trust it will be worth it in the end.

It seems the problem lies mainly with the second part of the poem though, so I shall try my best to let it flow more easily from the first part, and make the change, hopefully, much less harsh. But there has to be a change.
As to what I may or may not have done intentionally in the lines you highlighted, I assure you that I rarely think that far ahead when I write. That's also why a lot of this catches me off guard, because I've never learned about the forms thereof, the hidden mechanics, or even the tempo metres. I've always simply written, and gotten better through that writing.
Perhaps a change in that tempo is in order.

Thanks for reading, and giving your advice:)

Yours

Waldo

P.s. As always, I'd like to read what you've written. Just give me a bit of time, and I'll get to it. Promise.

author comment

That's why I lead you and Jess to him, you guys are far better than I at this. I saw that waldo is good but how good is he, I left it to you guys.
thanks,
PS I wasn't that excited. Hahaha!
your a funny guy

LIFE ISN'T ABOUT WAITING FOR THE STORM TO PASS
IT'S ABOUT LEARNING HOW TO DANCE IN THE RAIN.
VIVIAN GREENE

As I replied to Jess, I'll make true effort to rework it in that sense (as well as many others). When I wrote it, I did notice the change there, but I left it for that moment, thinking that it might just be fitting in a sense, breaking the poem down from there as the leaf was broken down as well.
First we try, then perhaps we fail, but we damn-well will try again!

And "Di Vanita" just kind of popped into my head when I wrote it. I'd didn't even rightly know the meaning, which then proved to be somewhat ironic to certain things I read into in the poem. Hence, I left it. Honestly, I probably still will, seeing as I have to be stubborn on some point or another.

I'll be back with the reworked, revamped, and much-improved version on Monday. And no, of course I didn't just put a ton of pressure on myself... gulp...

Yours, with lots of thanks for your comments, and time

Waldo

author comment

yet read

THE

CHARISMATIC POET

AWAITING YOUR COMMENT

loved

...and commented:)

author comment

sorry she was talking to me. "She's my ace boon coon from the moon!"

LIFE ISN'T ABOUT WAITING FOR THE STORM TO PASS
IT'S ABOUT LEARNING HOW TO DANCE IN THE RAIN.
VIVIAN GREENE

I can't help thinking how this would sound a lot better if you could make it flow in 'English hymn metre'. It would give it a kind of Emily Dickinson feel. You already have a very regular rhyme scheme and a run of four-line stanza, also you have the building blocks of the metre in lines such as:

'To plummet from such tumbling heights...' (iambic tetrameter)

and

'From branch, to breeze, to ground...' (iambic trimeter).

Just to give you an idea of what English hymn metre looks/sounds like, here's a stanza from an old poem of mine. I'm not holding it up as great poetry, just as an example of how something like this can flow in regular rhythm:

'The gilded beams of beech and oak,
The silver wands of birch,
Where once the flitting swallows spoke,
Are silent as a church.'

That's me at my most twee and Dickinsonesque, I'm afraid, but it illustrates a point.

I like the idea behind your poem. It's an old theme, but that's no reason not to revisit it. There's tenderness in the way you write.

___________

Nah pop no style, a strickly roots.

I promise you, I didn't know! Hahaha!
I've absolutely no concept of iambic tetra- or trimeters, but thank you for pointing that out to me. It's a bit like my grasp of the English language; ask me what the rules in tenses are, and I won't know what in the name of TheUnknownAuthor you're talking about. But I can quite quickly point out to you when it's wrong.

That said, it does give me some ideas for it. So thank you very much for that, and for saying there's a tenderness to the way I write. I quite like that:)

With hope to be back soon, and incorporate all of your ideas (or only those I like)

Yours

Waldo

P.s. This shall be my last reply for the day, but I'll be back soon.

P.p.s. And I really do actually like the tempo in your poem. You could dance to that melody:)

Au revoir!

author comment

Almost all stalwarts of poetry,
Less Seren and Lou and Ziggs,
Have read you
Shirley and Ian
Must be round the corner tooo
So I have composed a poem,
Before I post it
Will it
Kindly edit you

Open to any one
Who may try toooooooooooooooo...........

A Narcissist Blooms

A narcissus blooms,
Upon graves and dies,
Ere it’s born,
Tis significance of death,
An eternal sleep in peace

Another such a poet
Is born falling in love
With ones own reflection,
In a flowing stream
And
Plunges to immortality,
Ere betwixt birth and death,
A short expanse of time
A story of eternity,
A fresh poet suddenly emerges
Hopefully,
One, I had been

loved

Guess who's back? Yet...

A man one proposed that should any writing, regardless of format, inspire a new thought in the soon-passed reader, then it has automatically become a success. It has gained significance in the moment of such fruition, and has become something akin to immortal, in a wide-flung sense.

This left me with the question: "Do I write because I love? Or because I yearn to love?"
Hmmm... An obvious next would be; why do you write?
But in any and all senses, this is a dangerous mood for me to be in. There's a reason why philosophy is a profession all on its own.

I'll read it again though. And then I'll drink coffee, or tea, and I shall read it... again...
Right now though? I don't see anything I'd change. Well done, Loved:)

'Til later...

Waldo

P.s. PUBLISH IT!

author comment

and
happened to read
a great deal of thought indeed
that you have penned

Oh poet dear
once unknown ,
you alone to so many hearts
are now more known,
than un
well done....

My computer betrayed me
died before i did,
so i have to update
this new one,
as it has
gram and spell check,
sadly none,

AND

I AM A COMPUTER POET
YOU ALL BY NOW
KNOW IT.

An
UNKNOWN ROSE POET

loved

I finally got around to some editing, and to actually post it as well. Now please, tell me if I made it better, or worse.

Thanking you kindly

Waldo

author comment

And thank you:)
I look forward to reading some of your work. And, seeing as I seem to be slightly nearer to done with this one, I can start writing a new one!

P.s. It could be construed as bad manners to make a man blush at first meeting, you know... ;)

With the flu

Waldo

author comment

Of the three revisions this one is much better.
Eddie C.

LIFE ISN'T ABOUT WAITING FOR THE STORM TO PASS
IT'S ABOUT LEARNING HOW TO DANCE IN THE RAIN.
VIVIAN GREENE

let me intercede

and
once u have finalised the deed,
then only,
ask me for the final read

.till then let

my soul rest in peace.

Any work redone
becomes another one,
so write a newer version
as this world has brains
a six point five billion.

loved

And here's Ann of Norway's humble thought after all this weighty stuff above me,
squeak!

"On nothing but the winds’ wistful call;"...do you need THE?

"And I dreamt of such vicious things,"..I dreamt - leaving out and, but then the line must have another word in it?

"That would take such fair leaves,... dainty leaves?

And break them down and down,...down and down- a little weak in meaning here

‘Til nought would then remain,. hm!

But dust upon the ground;"..

" And as I lost that thought,
I saw her tumble to fall,..I saw her tumble and fall
To shed in graceful autumn,...shed in autumn's storms 
As she stood so strong and tall;" ... she stood so strong and tall....a bit mixed this verse?

"And never thought to repay,...I never sought to repay

Just what she gave me each summer....in summer.

Until that fate-less day."...until that fateful day

"Now I miss her as I dream,

And I write so of her own,.........of her flown

For the tide-ly seasons took my sight,...the timely seasons stole my sight

Of what she might have grown."...all right if you must??

Well its a nice poem, the sense of it, the meanings flying in the winds to tell us its story.
Love from me.

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

And hello again! It's been quite a while since we crossed paths briefly on the previously rendition of this site.
How've you been?

And yes, I'm quite sure the word "how've" does exist. And if it doesn't, well...

author comment

And if it doesn't well too bad with brass buttons on it!

I've been and gone (Cancer gone all last Summer uff!!) and come back renewed in body I hope my mind stayed the same, who knows? No I now mostly feel like a crazy teenager ready to go, full of spirit, walk 1-2 hours nearly every day in the woods, and watch every bird and twig move as I do. You don't want to hear any more! I visited the Longo man in Florida, Joe, and Anna and Barry in Ohio, then Mallorca in the mountains up high. Dr's shake their heads at how well I seem to be, shrug their shoulders and smile. Shall we dance Waldo?
That's How've.

LuvAnn.

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

THIS POEM WILL
some day end up
in the history books
of poetic time

so many stalwarts around,
the world has 6.5 billion
goingaround
make no sound,
silently ask each one of them around,
to poemise a similar poem,
a thought theirs unique,
then my poet unknown
now somuch the worlds treat,
you shall have to take shelter,
in the publishers street
and
remain undecided,
what is which

loved

Your Lovely Poem

This poem will
Someday end up
In the history books
Of poetic time

So many stalwarts,
The world has 6.5 billion
Going around
Make no sound
Silently ask each one of them,
To poemise a similar poem,
A thought theirs unique…
Then my poet Unknown
Now so much the worlds treat,
You shall have to take shelter,
In the publishers street
And
Remain undecided,
What is which?

loved

Welcome here and as I see the many responses but do not like to read all of them as I always like to have an unbiased opinion in my readings and feelings of a poem. I do not know if you are still editing this but I would like to come back and give it my suggests if you like. I also know when so many are giving you great ideas, as they have in here, you have to take what works for you and revise and then revise again. To me a poem is never finished in its entirety. Will be back and nice to welcome you here.

Mona

I apologize for my absence lately, but it's been the habit of my life that writing supersedes the composing of poetry. And one does have the tendency to spend the energy you might have used for the other. But I have been working on some new things I'll post soon, just after I've finished getting some of the rougher edges off. And I shall also try, though I'm not making any promises on any account, to revise the revision;)

Thanks for all the comments though, the advice, and support that I never expected. You've quite a community going here, and it makes one quite proud.

And thank you, Loved:) I can't say that I think this poem will reach the fame you adhere to it, and maybe it's better that way. But I always measure my work up to the favourite poems in my life, namely The Twilight of Eternal Day by Tennyson, and in that sense, I don't see how it could. But thank you for your support, regardless, cherie. And I shall make all the effort I can to come and read more of your wonderfully nonconformist poetry.

Yours; and all of yours

Waldo

P.s. I'll try to put time aside every day to come and visit the site, that I do promise.
Unless I get lazy...
Or I'm in a bad mood...
Or I'm otherwise, and more *cough* well, just occupied...
But other than that, I'll be here!

author comment

most would have liked to see me
as a pile
below the waters surface
camouflaged by the bridge's shadows
thank you
Sir Waldo
for ur
special mention
ur a busy man
I 'm not

And thank you, Loved:)

I can't say that I think this poem will reach the fame you adhere to it, and maybe it's better that way. But I always measure my work up to the favourite poems in my life, namely The Twilight of Eternal Day by Tennyson, and in that sense, I don't see how it could. But thank you for your support, regardless, cheers....
. And I shall make all the effort
I can to come and read more of

your wonderfully nonconformist....................... poetry.

Yours; and all of yours

Waldo

loved

Everybody else has said all there is to be said, so I say this is a beautiful poem and I enjoyed it very much.

Louise

Stand tall, be proud to be who you are, give the world the finger!!!!

Welcome to Neo! What a beautiful piece of work, an Odyssey of transition! Fall is my favorite season, but it is too short. You put me in mind of raking leaves into a pile to run and jump into them. Some of the best photos are of leaves blanketing the ground under a tree in a spectrum of fall colors. It does seem dastardly to grind them into mulch. I'd love to see how you describe other seasons, such as a winter landscape, with snow and the plow. This piece is marvelous and so dead on the money. I wouldn't change a word of it! I have no suggestions, only appreciation for the work.

always, Cat

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And reply in kind, thanks.

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