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the angel

'she has beautiful, bright blue eyes, and long, golden, thick locks of hair
who is she now? who is that girl, hovering up in the air?'
my eyes trace frail, bony digits, that point to the ceiling’s corner
walls, shadows, a cobweb or two, I see no-one, I say to her

'she’s definitely there,' she says, and, as I acknowledge belief
'I think she’s waiting for me', and my back curls a little in grief
for somehow I ken that this is goodbye, tonight my friend is leaving
too often I’ve seen His face, to warnings I’m not disbelieving

now gently she’s sleeping and quietly I’m sitting, here by her side
attempting to glimpse the angel, who it seems in the corner bides
patiently waiting to guide my friend to her promised final rest
and I nonchalantly tell that angel, my friend deserves the best

I tell her, in case she does not know, of the little that I do
I tell the angel that my friend was persecuted as a Jew
I explain, that as a small young child in a foreign war-torn land
my dear friend’s wrist was disfigured, with numbers from the Auschwitz brand

I speak to air, in case angels are there, tell of the little I know
how she somehow survived the muck and grime, the gas and the gallows
then, affected for evermore, unable to rationalise
just giving up, to be most of her life, institutionalised

I tell the angel it’s hard for people like me to understand
or even imagine the kinds of life dealt others by fate’s hand
I tell the angel I do comprehend one blatant glaring truth
my friend never once begrudged her life, though damaged since her youth

her respirations soften slowly, a slight rattle in her breath
I know the signs, I know my friend is looming close to death
I feel a slight and scented breeze waft gently across my face
through fingers clasping my friend’s wrist, I feel no blood pulse race

I straighten my friend’s pillows, and sheets under which she lies
a kiss, and then I let her rest, offer prayers to be her guides
I feel a gentle presence grow, expand, then slowly recede
a warm draught passes through my soul, as I apperceive two hearts leave
.

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing stage: 

Comments

a very sensitive poem expressing some very delicate moments endured during the passing away of a dear friend, so too the upheaval of emotions ...

there are though some areas which you would perhaps be looking at while tweaking up this draft..one of which is to improve the flow, which in some stanzas appeared to stutter for me while reading them aloud whereas there are others which flow so easily on the tongue....of course that is my suggestion...

Regards,

raj (sublime_ocean)

that's not helpful at all my dear friend
you need to tell me the areas you had trouble with...
how am I to know what to look at, otherwise?
it truly reads smoothly to me - but I may have fallen into the trap of knowing the write too well...
would love you to follow up with where you had problems

love judy
xxx

'Each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star,
shall draw the Thing as he sees It, for the God of Things as They are.'
(Rudyard Kipling)

author comment

I knew you would ask this, but didn't prefer to state because I would want you to wait for others to comment...but since you have asked, i must say that Stanza 2 & 4 i felt need smoothing out....of course that's my take..wait for others to comment..

Regards,

raj (sublime_ocean)

but I still can't see a problem Raj
I have changed the format to read as couplets - maybe that helps?
love judy
xxx

'Each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star,
shall draw the Thing as he sees It, for the God of Things as They are.'
(Rudyard Kipling)

author comment

You are certainly not blind, perhaps it was my shortcoming which is why i had said you need to wait for others to comment. Anyways it reads good to me now, now that she looks slimmer and you have also changed her attire :)

Regards,

raj (sublime_ocean)

Beaut piece young Lady, just a couple of lines to my thoughts that may need attention:-

too often I’ve seen His face..

I think to make a Spirit one sex or another brings a strange feeling, though most of the children appear as girls, it is a preference to the tasks they do, as I have said Sadie is an old Spirit but we see her as a 12 year old, maybe you were talking of a God, but here the children have never mentioned one deity so I have never asked. lol

I feel a slight and scented breeze..

I, that's just me cant stand scent, it is a weak word, where if Perfume was used, it gives a purpose and a form that affects the senses, as if used with care an expression of feeling that uses the senses to their best.

I straighten my dear friend’s pillows and sheets
under which she lies..

This has to be separated as to lie under the pillow sounds wrong, a little tweak, where you make your friend comfortable, this is a gesture of love for another as your friend has left then you feel the change in energy as they both depart..

Judy we have this even when listening to the Children on the tapes, the energy seems to drop as they stop talking to me and when played to others there is a noticeable feeling of energy having dropped a little, when you listen to the tape you will see what I mean,
Take care young Lady, Yours as always Ian..

.
Give critique to help keep Neopoet great.
Unconditional love to you all.
"Learn to love yourself first"
Yours as always, Ian.T, Sparrow, and Yenti

'His face' - I'm not talking about spirit - 'tis death I have capitalised
lol - nothing wrong to my mind with 'scented'
And I have changed the verse length, and added a comma to fix the pillows and sheets problem (as well as others in the other format that I was finding myself) ... I originally was trying to make the lines short, as most people hate reading lengthy lines, but I found it wasn't working for me at least

Thanks for the crit
Love judy
xxx

'Each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star,
shall draw the Thing as he sees It, for the God of Things as They are.'
(Rudyard Kipling)

author comment

it's a pleasure, will talk tomorrow,
Yours Ian

.
Give critique to help keep Neopoet great.
Unconditional love to you all.
"Learn to love yourself first"
Yours as always, Ian.T, Sparrow, and Yenti

A very gentle poem indeed. That close observation that only a soft spirit can sense and when it comes to nursing or watching the death of a close friend the senstivity rates higher, I believe.
Very touching.
Only the last line left me a bit in puzzlement especially with the "two hearts"

❤❤❤❤❤❤

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

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the friend's and the angel's
:)
thanks Rula for the lovely comment
love judy
xxx

'Each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star,
shall draw the Thing as he sees It, for the God of Things as They are.'
(Rudyard Kipling)

author comment

but wanted to double check. :)
Thank you dear.

❤❤❤❤❤❤

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

Follow me
www.instgram.com/rularules1

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