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Icarus Where Are you?...

One of my favorite pastimes
Flying on the tree-tops
As high in the slender boughs
as I could get

Sunrise is the best time
The world still pretty quiet
The day just waking
About to be on its' business

The rush of the gust, hissing
Telling me of places that it had been
Sometimes, it would still, surround me
Bringing a scent, remembered
Or entirely new

Swaying but unafraid, secure
In invincible youth
I heard and sometimes...
Conquered my fears

Far below, the life that was mine
Was as far away then
As it is today from there
Wishing I could fly

The drone of an airplane
in the breeze
Feeling the sun on my face
No one but God; knew where I was

Style / type: 
Free verse
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?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Last few words: 
Another East Main St work.
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content

Comments

I suppose that it is true, that the East Main St. period was one of the most formative times of my life. My home life left a lot to be desired. I buried myself in books. I read just about everything that came my way. It didn't matter what the subject. I wanted to know what other people thought about everything. I guess the whole poem is summed up in those last lines. ~ Geez.
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author comment

nice work but beware not to fly to high to the sun lest your wings melt and along with it all of your daydreams

Chrys

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never in danger of melting then. I had enough sense to know what happened to Icarus from the story about him. I also had a narrow escape in the thin upper branches of my favorite tree. But, oh how exciting to fly with the wind; The tree was at the top of the embankment just inside of the cemetary. Hence the line of: "No one but God knew where I was". Thanks for the read and comment. ~ Gee.
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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.

author comment

Hi, Geezer,
This is one of your most beautiful pieces. Your third stanza, "the rush of the gust..." is my favorite, but each individual stanza is almost like a mini-poem. The gust of wind telling you of the places it has been - how magical and wonderful! Now, I'm off to the www to check out more about Icarus!
Thank you!
L

of this poem. I made a concious effort to keep each line as seperate as I could, to let them stand alone as much as possible.
I wanted them to sound as I thought them, one by one. In my imagination, I could feel the heat and the subtle smell of jungle flowers when the wind slowed, and the coolness of the Artic snows as it raced back up to speed and it seemed to me, that it spoke of where it had been. Thank you for your read and comment. ~ 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.

author comment

break anything except an umbrella. Of course, it being Mom's umbrella. I'll bet that you wish that you had broke an arm or sprained an ankle so that she would have a little sympathy for you. Thanks for the read and the comment. ~ 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.

author comment
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