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The Crossroad

He crossed the path on the lane
Made with iron and bricks like the step-ladder
At the Intersection, he crossed the Rubicon;
Pun…un! The sound came in a shock-wave,
Nearer and nearer it’s coming
With its big head like a Black Mamba
That swallowed the slaves and their lords
With their hope and dreams
From a faraway land.

He did know he couldn’t cross the path,
When it moved slowly on its cogwheel
With its heavy pregnancy
Until it died.

He walked into its head
And his body was lifted in pieces,
He picked it up to fix it
But his old self had gone;
Every time he saw the snake-vehicle,
It reminded him of his old self.

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Last few words: 
For more understanding of the poem: the snake vehicle is referred to 'Train'.
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content


This poem has a lot of potential but two things might help. It is my understanding that random repetitions of the same word(s) in close proximity should be avoided and the first 3 lines used cross three times....perhaps changing crossroad to intersection would help. The second stanza is unclear in it's meaning at least to me. Since I can't determine it's meaning I can give no suggestions to clarify it. Last 3 lines of first stanza are excellent

I have both your poem and our dear Scribbler's comment/critique, and I fully agree.

*hugs, Cat

When someone reads your work
And responds, please be courteous
And reply in kind, thanks.

that you have written your character off the scene, that he walked into the train and it killed him?
I am with Scribbler as to what the second stanza might mean. I think that you are saying that he knew that it would kill him if he walked into its' path, and did it deliberately? In the last part, he haunts the train? ~ Geezer.

It seems that the days and hours that people
are available for chatroom are staggered and
not a good match for most everyone. How about
if everyone just shows up at the door, whenever
they have a few free minutes?

You're right. You got the meaning of stanza 2 (the poet's explanation).

"Words are currency of ideas and have the power to change world. Ride your pen on the rough road."

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