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Damning sorrow for love

when I heard
Miss Piggy laugh,
on those days
I would be OK
between the
oceans of pain
we had paddled
to meet

plastic bags of magic
hang from fishing poles
wheeled in by flying nuns
with blessings
of water and love,
we divined ways to forget,
the moments in minutes
when agony pushes through

to shave another piece off
our shared sheer will,
and eating the pieces
were the demons
we all harbor,
unwilling jailers
of repeat offenders
spot our roll-call

barf jokes became
our Da Vinci Code,
and when one of us
started losing ground
it was you who brought
us back around,
the eternal clown
no frowns allowed

rest in Elysian fields
my darling, in the wee hours
eternity crept from eyes
misted with disbelief,

from the oceans we traveled
we drink a drop to you
our funny love,

damning all sorrow
to another day

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content
Opt-in: Neopoet AI will critique your poem.


The below is a computer generated response from Neo, Neopoet's computer artificial intelligence:

The poem "Damning sorrow for love" is a touching tribute to a lost loved one. The use of Miss Piggy's laugh as a marker for good days is an interesting and unique detail that adds depth to the speaker's emotional journey. The metaphor of paddling through oceans of pain to meet each other creates a vivid image of the struggle the speaker and their loved one faced together.

The line "plastic bags of magic" is a powerful metaphor for the moments of joy and distraction that helped the speaker and their loved one forget their pain, but the following lines feel less cohesive. The mention of fishing poles and flying nuns feels somewhat random and disconnected from the rest of the poem.

The lines "to shave another piece off/our shared sheer will" are a poignant expression of the constant effort required to cope with ongoing pain. The metaphor of eating the pieces as demons is a creative way to illustrate the idea of being trapped by one's own suffering.

The shift to "barf jokes" as a coping mechanism feels abrupt, but the idea of humor as a lifeline in dark times is a relatable one. The tribute to the loved one as the eternal clown who never allowed frowns adds a sense of warmth and humor to the poem.

The final stanza is a beautiful tribute to the lost loved one, with the image of eternity creeping from their eyes creating a haunting and poignant image. The final lines, which toast the loved one and damn all sorrow to another day, are a powerful expression of the speaker's determination to keep going despite their loss.

One suggested line edit would be to remove the comma after "days" in the first stanza, as it interrupts the flow of the sentence.

Please send feedback about Neo (our computer generated critique system) to

I'm extremely happy with the review. I think it was spot on barring two small things that are neither here nor there really, I understand it's an experiment but I'm pleasantly surprised it was so on point.

Thank you AI

Regards Seren

“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” — W.B. Yeats

author comment

Thanks so much, she was much loved and will be forever missed. I tried to bring her essence to the poem and I hope I achieved that. The plastic bags of magic? Are IV bags and integral to her story and mine. I will leave it for the time being while I mull on it some more. I wrote this and walked away many many times. I will return I want it to be perfect for her.

Kind Regards Jayne

“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” — W.B. Yeats

author comment

It's OK. Not every piece of plastic holds an evil. Some of them hold life. I know that better than anyone. I wouldn't be here without them. That line could be anything. The flying nuns? Are nurses. They were always zipping round the place we nicknamed them flying nuns they thought it was hilarious.

Kind regards Jayne

“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” — W.B. Yeats

author comment

from long ago, you telling me about your compatriot and fellow sufferer. Up until recently, I had never watched another die from cancer, and the swiftness with which it can swoop down and make the final dispatch. I must admire the bravery that it takes to push aside the fear and pain. My friend Bob kept telling me, there's nothing they can do about it, so let's concentrate on the good things that we shared, and don't worry about tomorrow or the day after. Let's not count the days, and minutes until the end, but remember the days and moments we shared. It's hard, and sometimes, I look at that house next door... but hey, this is not about me. This is about the poem that you have written and shared with us. It gives us the feeling that there was something of importance to your relationship with your friend. I do believe that she was just as pleased with your companionship as you were with hers. I'm sure that she took comfort in knowing that you were there and understood how afraid she was too. Acceptance is not being without fear, it is rather, a necessary part of the process. I know that I must have said it before, but You have my condolences for the loss of your friend. Higgest bugs and lots of love, ~ Geez.

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 know how much you grieved Bob and I know the pain you carry you should never not share your story whilever you do there is apart of his memory that's kept alive, I will carry my friends memory forever. She was the bravest woman I ever met.

Love and higgliest bugs Sis xox

“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” — W.B. Yeats

author comment

this reminds me of a song from: Phantom of the Paradise, whose lines in part go:

"Damn all evil that takes possession,
Until your 'pipe dreams' become obsessions;
They scare me,baby; and we should have nothing to fear.

ignore that, I'm getting senile in my old age.
this is a lovely piece of your psyche. I love it and I hate dying and all the crap that goes with it, like "when one door closes, a new window opens." I have seen so much death, you would think I must have hit saturation by now...but makes me want to "Rage against the dying of the light!
I am sorry about your friend. and your great loss. your love shines through in this poem.

*love and wishes, Siscat

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

Dear J,
I'm just staring at the cursor trying to gather my thoughts on this, but I'll accept that I cannot find the words. My condolences for your loss, and my admiration toward your devotion felt in your poetry.
Much love,

I’m sorry for your loss. As far as the poetry, it’s sad, it’s sweet. It’s very very good. Your style speaks to me because you never really say anything plainly and you make me work hard and think about what I’m reading. The way you word things lures me into an almost altered state, a necessary shift in consciousness to place myself in this universe alternative to mine.

I’m sorry your universe is currently painful, I’m really glad you’ve shared your feelings and imagination with us.


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