really wonderful poem, a truly complete and sophisticated work of art. I am quite moved, great language and emotion. I will definitely look at your other work.

I noticed Heaney is a favorite of yours. Because of his status I have tried so hard to "get him" but have fallen flat. I recently went again to a book of his collected works and found only one poem I liked, "Oysters". Direct me to some of your favorites if you have a chance. Much appreciated.
.

reverse it
====stressed===prefix de
=destressed
did you not know it!
hopefully
now you do
and all your questions
will be answered
smilingly and silently

Need I say more?

I think it is a real challenge to be successful when writing a poem that is all questions, but I think you've nailed it, Rhiannon! The poem certainly captures a feeling I know all too well. I don't know anything like the decadence of The Dinner, but after a big project, I always feel worthless and listless and don't know what to do with myself after the initial sense of accomplishment quickly subsides! I guess that's close enough. I can tell myself that I'm like Sherlock Holmes: married to my work. Yeah?

One small suggestion, if you don't mind:

And the breeze that once billowed --> because you have "once" on the line previous, you might consider using a synonym or something similar here that doesn't alter the message too much, so that the same word isn't repeated so closely together. Sometimes that can make a reader stumble. What about "breeze that often billowed" or "breeze that playfully billowed?" Just a thought!

Kelsey

This is quite exquisite, thoughtfully executed, and I like the way you handled the scent of candles clinging to to he room, after being snuffed, actually triggered a sense memory, which is a rare thing to find in a piece of poetry for me. This coupled with the previous piece, which was deliciously poised, and left you wondering, what happens after the dinner? Bravo, great stuff. I'm with you on Heaney too, Digging is a good place to start, famous Seamus and his shiny spade, and the image of his mother, peeling potatoes, even in interviews he was poetic till the end, with descriptions of "Land like butter" and that " The day was given to silence" when a reporter asked him what was going to happen with the remains of the day. Gotta love it.

Thanks ,

Chris.

appears distasteful
after a salted night's dessert
do not poets here desert
we spend time reading you

wrong trend
may be spread by you

is that which remains after all other is said and done........stan