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life sentence

estranged from perfect love
by the tools for manifest existence

forgetting there will be
the moment of return
to when
time stands still

where is regained
the spirit brain
that filters less
.

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

Comments

I don't know if I am reticent to comment on this because that is my typical way, or that I don't share the same metaphysical ideas as you reflect in this poem, or maybe because you are always so supportive of my work....
,,,but this isn't your poetic best, slightly clunky in execution. That is not bothersome to me, you excell so often. I wanted to be effusive in praise in my first comment in eons, but my little critque can't hurt a mentally tough cookie like you.

there, I said it!

you are one of neopoet's finest, and a lovely neopoet friend

with respect and admiration

Al

perhaps the day..Cleaned the house and tidied the archives
soothing myself with walk with the dogs and then music..
creative fascinating music that forces me from the comfort
zone.....waiting for familiarity to jive me is not what makes the
Alive in me...

This has a whole new dimension for me Judy
a strong and subtle break in thoughts and
ideas that are not the worn rut of pop work

Im very dazzled with this............people travel and take
the bus pampered tottle along routes....when I travel
I take the alleyways and neath the bridges and see
the hard won hearts that brochures turn away from

I am unafraid of my decaying ego or self and the
more older I get the more I venture further to the
edge of the knowns.......This indeed is not an
ordinary poem and its wonderful for me...My very
own personal taste to savour these words in
this moment......I will return in a few days to pick
a favourite line...but for now I loved the whole
feel of it......Thank You!!

reading this few times, I could get something from the first few lines until I came to stanza three. May be it is only me or perhaps some punctuation would help to
to do the clarification

❤❤❤❤❤❤

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

Follow me
www.instgram.com/rularules1

Reckon we all long for that prior place where all is perceived. .............stan

for your fine comments
especially to you Al, for the honesty - i love that...
so glad this struck a chord with you Steve
Rula - the punctuation is within the verse and stanza setup (i hope)
thanks for 'getting' it Stan
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)

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