Way to go!
I felt the same when I started learning Spanish.
Besides vocabulary, I find their grammar and sentence structure quite interesting and challenging.
I notice that I begin to spend a lot of time over learning this language.
In this note you have successfully shown the ways to learn a language in an easy way.
Living in the environment exchanging conversation is the key to speak a new language I guess.
The fact that you don't have your own space under your own roof is somewhat bewildering. It could be the supervisor speaking or the owner of the house. I wonder.
You have shown the crowded room, the liberties the visitors take with your food and shelter very clearly indeed.
"Stealing and munching on all my food,
acting stupid, immature and crude."
Perhaps taking suitable measures to stop grate crashing is in order. it is high time you did that.
This mess happens because people overstay their welcome lacking manners and decency or stupid or fool hardy enough not to realize their own ignorance.
Missing the lover is well depicted in this free style poem.
Losing love can mean losing every connection with life and the world.
Senses are of no avail and the world means nothing when she departed.
"that night...that night...
i died a painful death"
That night made his soul dark and life shattered. The extent of misery and pain cross the limits and the soul is tortured beyond measure and now nothing remains.
Understandable pain is convincingly shown by using senses.
It flows well.
This is not a poem written for starry eyed lovers who dwell in seventh heaven and crash down when love alters.
This poem is for lovers who love for keeps and stay in love come what may. It is an ideal world of love and not so removed from reality. Ups and downs are well versified and the fact of sticking together remains.
"Two that don’t quite see the world through the same exact lens,"
As thinking feeling human beings the lovers in the poem realize that life is not is not always spring. Seasons change yet true love stays unchanged despite differences.
Imagery is quite visual and souls are transparently presented.
This sounds more like a poem rather a prose piece, the story of a daughter's love for her father.
I say that because I find the lines flowing like those of a poem with the right balance and rhythm.
Each sentence reflects a treasured thought, a valuable moment of time with an unforgettable father.
It comes with a force, the longing to be with him again only after his passing.
"Her reminiscence gradually blurred as tears slowly welled in her eyes."
Memories stay forever, as someone said, in the software of the mind that cannot be erased. This is exactly how it is for me after my father passed away.
We miss his love and care.
This is a beautiful tribute to a father, which I laud.
There is no holding back the tears just as it is with raindrops.
While raindrops drench the earth, teardrops drench her mind and soul.
Rain brings relief to parched soil and teardrops are way to soothe a hurt soul. I see joy in the falling raindrops and sense sadness in the fall of teardrops. Inevitably, both stop at a point of time, nature's dictate. While rain abates naturally, her or his tears are made to stop since there's no way to erase sadness.
"Sopping wetness
cover under umbrella
hold tight fella"
I think many of us are subjected to sadness of the above kind and tears are a natural outcome.
The poet finds appropriate parallels between tears and rain drops.
A visual poem, where I can see the flood of tears on the one hand, and the fall of unstoppable rain on the other.
kudos to imagery which appeals to eye ear and heart.
That's right. Girls are never inferior to boys, be it a game or life in general.
No one knows their hidden potential till tested.
Originally empowered species of the mankind.
Well told story with appropriate dialog and description.
His superiority complex crushed to ground as he learnt the lesson. ( I mean the one who warned her)
"“Girls don’t play football,” he said ..."
I liked the last line a lot.
"With no hesitation and speed that struck all the boys, she ran the ball all the way across the field for a touchtown. Her first of many."
Why do we feel so close to God, whom we can't see and have a conversation with like we do with others around us?
I think it is the freedom to express our innermost thoughts and feelings that makes us think of God dearer than others.
"He will not get overwhelmed like people sometimes do"
A very sensible and appropriate statement about Him.
Closing eyes and looking inside is my way of thinking of Him and say the prayers that bring back balance and courage to live happily.
Intense belief is what is necessary. Then the path to peace clears and envisioned.
"Only he can set the captive free"
Lovely free style poem with a great rhythm and thought patterns.
It flows well.
This free style poem appeals to my sense of nature spirit. The poet envisages her dancing in the fields before dawn breaks the night.
"Gracefully dancing to the sounds of the night"
Spirit of nature is ever present be it day or night. She dances all the time in sun and shower except that we see her as per the sensitivity to her.
Even in the brown fields after harvest, John Keats was able to see her relaxing and finds a new definition of nature in autumn.
The bond between the poet and nature is clearly seen in his/her firm belief in their next meeting.
"But I will return once again in the night"
The verses are poetic and romantic.
Imagery is vivid and flow is spontaneous.
Sweetheart's search for the departed lover is depicted in appealing images drawn from nature.
"morning haze" and "misty light" is a lovely combination.
The warmth in her heart inspires her to see him before her eyes "translucent and unattainable".
No longer palpable, no longer possible to kiss or hug. That's the tragedy.
Longing for the lover sees her seeking the impossible in the misty morning and the luminous twilight with a hope that never ceases. That's the way mind works engrossed in the thoughts of the dear one.
Imagery tops with an ambiance par excellence.
Vivid images drawn from the vistas of nature are captivating.
If I am not mistaken, the mystery part of the story is in the "hesitancy in his movement. He is carrying two rabbits." Are hesitancy of movement and the rabbits linked to a backstory?"
His confident and strong stride is directly opposed to hesitancy in his movement. I wonder how this could happen.
That said, the description of the log cabin with a strong foundation has appeal. The author calls it a house probably because of a combination of things. It serves as a living room as well as a kitchen with all basic things such as a stove with hotplates, a pan and a pot. A single individual lived here. It could be the middle aged man, who just reached the house. His broad nose could be hinting at a native Indian.
The fact that his boots are muddy indicate his recent hunting trip into the forest perhaps?
This prose piece provides enough material for a longer story.
I like the smooth sentence flow and the easy transformations
Hi Amay
The portraits of the child and mother come through clearly in the poem. A child's playfulness and desire to have fun have no end. Children's energy peaks especially with the presence of their mother.
One last time seems to extend on and on to several activities and the mother is considerate and kind not to deny her pleasure.
The child tests her patience tills she says, "I love you, mom." for all times to come.
Lines with conversation on both sides keep us engaged throughout the poem without a single line of boredom.
""Mom, I love you."
One last time."
Rhyming verse flows well.
Imagery is visual and appeals to mind and heart.
Many of the features of the govt, listed here are relevant to quite a few countries in the world.
All we want is an honest government led by an honest group of leaders.
Need for the leaders is to dedicate themselves to the welfare of the people instead of lining their pockets with bribe money, corrupt power politics is clearly shown. This paves way to become dictators at a later time.
People are also responsible for electing the wrong leaders to seats of power. They need to monitor the candidates by watching their words and the drift of their thought, behaviour and rapport with the public.
Protecting the ballot from being meddled and doctored should be the duty of the election commission.
Electorate should practise their franchise instead of avoiding it. This makes a huge difference as it happened in India's recent election.
This piece of prose poetry is a drive to make the public aware of harsh realities in nutshell.
The need of the hour is to sit up and take note of the events happening in the halls of power at the helm of the government.
A daughter's love for her mother is exposed via the garden and its many delights.
It is difficult to define mother's love for her children and the things she grows in her patch of garden.
What impresses me is the fact that she treats her children and the flora with equal warmth, so the kids play about and the flora and fauna flourish with freedom.
"Endless hours she and I toiled and played away,"
Memories of childhood, of discovering new creatures and tending plants are recalled in vivid images.
"In my Mother's garden I always felt safe, loved and free,"
Childhood without fear and complex provides ideal conditions t grow and mature.
Rhyming poem with AA BB scheme and visual imagery flows well.
What a lovely thought to make the shooting star a messenger to the dear one, who cannot come to you, nor can you go to him.
The beauty of winter night is enhanced by the "wonder of light."
The beauty outside and the sadness in the heart come together to greet and meet the shooting star, igniting a sparkle of hope and a moment of consolation.
"Oh shooting star,
carry my silent words
across the sky."
Imagery is visual and poetic thought appeals to me.
It flows well.
Have a wonderful WDC Account Anniversary!
Congratulations!
Death is relentless. It equalizes everyone, be it an offender or one who is agreeable.
But while one goes down with a whimper, the other rises with a smile. So we realize how important it is to live a life without complaints or lies. Those who want to die sweetly, should realize it is vital to lead a happy and simple life before the curtain-fall.
The poet paints a vivid picture of the dying man.
"Regretting many things he’s done,"
Too late he must have realized.
The rhyming couplets draw the reader in, with observations such as,
"Where his judgments do not stand"
It is still enshrouded in mystery as to what happens next.
The rhythm of the poem is impressive with every single line.
As you read through it, the joy and relief seep through the poem.
The sorrow of being struck by cancer is counterbalanced by the "Good and experienced doctors", truly a godsend.
A mother's presence despite surgery is a great blessing. The fact that she fought the odds, turned the corner and stood triumphant among the loving members of her family is matter of great joy and pride.
Imagery is visual and appeals to my heart and mind.
It flows well with a detailed description of the experience.
Being born as a human being is a rare gift.
Yet, we don't know how to make the best use of the gift of life. The whole creation including the sun, the moon and the stars teach us many valuable lessons such as patience and disciplined routine. Many of us have no time or interest to notice them and even to look at them. So engrossed is the human kind to attain material glory. It is this ambition that brought "sin" into our world in addition to ego and attachment.
"Of all the things God created, only man brought sin into the world"
Your poem is inspiring enough to open our eyes to the above reality and how One man's sacrifice led man to remind us of this fact at least on Christmas day.
Hi,
it is true that writing can be an exciting adventure, which we all share at the WDC.
"I share with readers"
What a lovely way to let the others know of your writing!
I can sense a feeling of joy and satisfaction in this expression of love for writing.
It is a short verse of rhythm. But it packs everything a writer feels about his craft, his art.
The peculiarity of writing that I noticed is that one must necessarily and effortlessly be a reader too.
You have quite aptly referred to writing as "this type of art."
So it must be like time travel to past, I mean your visit to London. Remember it is way older than America, hence the changes you notice I think.
But now, your perspective must have changed. Perhaps you think of Shakespeare and the historical Big Ben and smell the roses too when you revisit London.
As a I child, you felt that it was a bleak place, especially in comparison with America, which is way ahead of any country anytime.
Looks like you haven't noticed the intermittent rain and lack of sunlight that can put anyone out of mood.
Let's give the devil its due. Their language and pronunciation are topnotch. Aren't they?
All in good humor. It is not meant to hurt anyone's feelings.
Searing pain is well shown. It is like living in hell to work suffering from insufferable pain.
A person in the throes of pain is well depicted and certainly touches the reader.
"Feeling battered and used"
Headache? stomach ache? or tooth ache? A man's life changes when pain hits. All the desire for living comes to a halt like a train screeching to a grinding stop.
The poet certainly shows a mysterious pain with a burning sensation that knows no end, no hope, while strength slowly subsides.
It flows well with rhyme and rhythm.
Use of descriptive phrases such as "currents of air, "whimsical way" " inner eye" make a mark.
The little movements of flora and fauna are caught well by the poet's keen observation and apt expression of the same.
The poet's eye sweeps the entire scenario, never missing nature's smooth transformation from season to season.
Light and Night are the two phases of creation. Life too drifts from light to dark and dark to light. One cannot be without the other. To live equally happy with both facets calls for balance of mind. If the mind is under control none can frighten us.
"My mind, the tricks it plays.
Shadows lengthen my height."
Sometimes, fear crosses logical thinking. so we are subjected to various emotional imbalances.
So the poet pleads.
"Oh candles please burn bright.
Until the light of day."
Edit-
"Oh candles! Please burn bright"
A very visual poem altering between candle light, fear, dark night and day light. Quite reflective of a mind behind these polarities.
This idea of death and the departing soul's approach to it appeals to me.
The closed eyes of a dying person could be seeing pitch darkness and starts drifting with it.
Perhaps even the soul is not aware of the surroundings and its passing from the mortal body.
It is the darkness and its blackness that seems to take the soul from the mortal remains.
"Longing soul"
Longing for rest? Peace? Freedom from the earthly bonds and shackles?
Death appears to bring the final freedom.
" a warm void
Comforting
Soothing
Peace at last."
There is something fascinating about the topic and the way it is conceived in this sensitive poem.
Its shape shows the way the soul drifts in darkness trying to be embraced by peace.
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