I find it interesting, I mean the observation you made at the end of this story,
" I don't understand why the universe would give me this signal but deny me the opportunity for closure or to warn her."
Well, to me it appears imperfect as we are, human beings have the freedom to act out of boundaries. The knowledge you had of her death is intuitive. Yet, the measure to stop it is not for you. Another force steps in to do that I think. We cannot be that powerful to control and stop the end.
It also proves to me that to have a certain kind knowledge is also painful though extraordinary.
"...intense thoughts about her that left me overwhelmed with anxiety."
Situations like these are painful, puzzling and beyond repair.
Written with a flowing style, the story is interestingly narrated in first person.
The poet describes the death of a loved one. The way I understand is that she lived and died with courage. That is difficult to perceive when the poet says she is "broken"
This free style poem with short lines, speaks a lot about the lady's character. She lived as per her wishes. This makes me understand that she is strongly individualistic, her own person. Few have that grit.
"No one asks if she’s okay,
And her mask never slips,"
I can also see that her will to look good dominates over her pain.
What a brilliant idea to win over the middle age blues and turn corner. Exactly! Some thoughtful action is what is necessary to keep up the cheer and retain the love and closeness of those yester years. Women should never forget to dress well whatever age they are. They should look fresh and clean with a smile, a genuine one on their faces.
You have done well for yourself, Redtowrite. After all those years of loving labor, there comes a time to do something for yourself. What can be more romantic or novel than joining a poetry workshop? I wonder at the possible kind of expression on Chris's face. I am sure he was pleasantly taken aback.
I appreciate the way in which the story proceeded starting on a note of regret, finally to end on hope and excitement.
"I look up at the moon. I believe it winked at me."
Remembering and celebrating the abundance of nature make the poem impressive. Consistently constructed in tercets, the rhyming verse brings home to the reader the way Thanksgiving is accomplished.
"a day filled with trimmings on our tables,
that we celebrate in a thankful way."
The novelty of the poem is not merely showing the "trimmings" on the table, but also sound the bugle of peace sending the message out to the countrymen to stay stable and "let peace spread for the whole human race."
This is my pleasure to review for your WDC Account Anniversary. I picked up this humorous item from your portfolio and knew right away this is going to be funny if also a bit sad from the washing machine's point of view.
Congratulations on completing a year of association with the WDC. Have a lovely day!
The washer did express its apprehensions regarding a collapse. The signs were unmistakable.
" you must have heard my rumbles of distress and my squeals of anguish."
(Instead of abandoning a sick machine, in India we take it to the repairer and sometimes all it needs could be just a small adjustment or replacement of a certain part.)
Now that the total collapse had happened, the poor thing is relegated to the basement.It voiced its past travails very well indeed.
"Water has bruised. Water has clogged."
Its plans for a future incarnation sound sensible.
The author simply excelled in using personification.
Poems like this shine better if they are the outcome of a personal experience. This poem is certainly of that real kind. I cannot miss the genuine feeling, the in-depth emotion and the touch of an occasional disagreement with the beloved. The union after the quarrel is even more bewitching if I am not mistaken.
"For all the fights, the crying, the pain.
That one little look, has me again."
Even those small interruptions of love do not occur if there is better understanding between the couples.
Expression and emotions are well balanced. Words and lines are constructed with the flowing of feelings.
Imagery appeals.
It is an unexpected kind of story. The characters are already in preparation for the show. It is a bit odd that they find the train journey a suitable surround for the rehearsal of whatever they have in mind.
Everything falls in place except the punching that the old man took on his face. Was it necessary to exhibit so much exuberance? Very odd indeed!
Australian slang is used in parts. I can see the word "decko" which is from an Indian language, Hindi.
Introduction is fine and very interestingly written. Even the later events leave the reader wondering a bit as to what this is all about until we reach the end.
some footnotes may be necessary for words like decko,dinkum.
This essay on choosing paths is clear in voicing the author's opinions on both mundane and spiritual aspects of life.
It is true that we are attracted to the bad paths due to our own temptation and the inability to control our minds. We do blame God when things go contrary to what we want or wish.
Following the principles of good life and behavior solves half the problems we face. It would not have been so difficult to face the social distancing and remaining at home. Your list of reasons why we are in the present state makes a lot of sense.
"massive crimes, homosexuality, total disrespect of the elderly, excessive drug abuse, politicians that can't even align with their own party."
Also, some reasons as important as the above are, the rise in pollution levels, eating and drinking to excess, building concrete jungles, deforestation, too many pesticides for the crops, and unnecessary use of fertilizers. The tidings of the environmentalists and the scientists, that warned us of the grim future, fell on deaf ears.
Without being aware of the mistakes we have been committing over decades we have given the virus a chance to grow and attack human societies. When the good diminishes, the bad and ugly take over.
I applaud your assessment of why certain undesirable things happen.
Lovely presentation of conditions under which the so called writer's block happens.
"My knees fail me as I once again find myself on the cold, hard surface of writer's block."
Imaginary conversation between the muse and the writer show the necessary ingredients for the art of creative writing. Looks like there is a lot of hard work before one could get her/his Muse smiling sweeping away the block.
"sinister" "wicked" describe the hard-to-get inspiration from the Muse.(well, we do get a bit spiteful.)
"hard surface of writer's block."
Such an appropriate metaphor!
However, it is clear that love's sincere labor cannot be lost.
Blessings around us are shown clearly with appealing examples. If one cares to take notice there are innumerable such sights and smells around us both of nature and our own creations such as,
"The smell of detergent, fresh and clean"
I may add the blue sky and the early morning sight of the tall tree facing before window from the branches of which I can listen to birds singing a musical welcome to the rising sun, fresh scent of the jasmine and gardenia wafting in the light wind blowing from the mountain side.
Your prose flows well, clear and shining like the water you spoke of.
Clearly written from experience, for I too am one of those who experienced love at first sight. The poet's words about two people becoming a perfect one echoes through my own life. I wonder if this union is due to a splendid hand of fate.
"One perfect person, our two hearts designed."
The heart knows, the spirit is aware and the soul longs. Lines that reflect an incredible truth,
"It is clear as day to both our eyes."
While the world fades into the background, two hearts merge and stay single, rather unique, I sometimes muse.
Beautifully crafted poem that took me to the day when we loved at first sight.
The fact of missing someone is perfectly voiced in this poem.
The grief behind all those things listed can be seen clearly through. He or she whom the poet misses attains a personality through the things that she/he generally enjoys doing.
Only death can bring down the curtain permanently separating the living and departed.
"I travel over and over again to the place where I can't be."
So many things that still remain unsaid.
Imagery is powerfully used drawing the reader into imagining what happened and how it reflects on the poet's life.
A very well constructed free style poem with an impressive refrain, "the house above the sea".
There is a curious tale around this house, which seems mysterious, murderous and mitigating. It seems to challenge, invite and enthrall the onlooker to come in and get what is in store for him. I am sure the poet had seen a house of this kind, I mean the location. Details are skillfully woven around the house.
"Enter if you dare
The house above the sea"
I certainly wouldn't enter for I hold my life dearer than entering a lone, haunted house.
Imagery speaks volumes about the present and past of the house, leaving the future to the entrants.
It is a touching poem. Love for Linda remains the same even in her absence. Indeed true love never alters.
Weather and mood are invariably interlinked. Sun makes a difference. Sunshine gives us a chance to come out of the gray mood. Poet has shown it transparently.
"... a gloomy day instantly brightens
should sunshine appear;..."
Linda's memory is fresh on the poet's mind. That's what moves me. Time cannot erase certain things.
I find the comparison between sunless days and a life without the dear one appealing enough.
A very rare and beautiful memory nicely described and recorded. We seldom see such acts of consideration on the part of older brother to his younger sibling.
The routine on a cold winter day is brought to our mind's eye with clear and necessary description. No more, no less. Brevity lends curiosity to the reader of the story.
I wonder if it is general practice in your parts for the laundromat person to let you sit at her place and attend to homework. Very kind on her part.
Finally, both characters are well shown and the reader would come to his or her own conclusions regarding their personalities.
With an appropriate prose style and neat transformation from one point to another, this story draws the reader into its very core.
The thin dividing line between regrets and risks is shown transparently. Both have "dreams" at the epicenter. Yet, while regrets bog us down, risks have a way of making us realize them. Well defined.
This free style poem has two stanzas devoted graphically to show how they, regrets and risks look and sound and feel. kudos to that finer meaning, for bringing out a better focus on both sides of life, failure and success.
A word about imagery. Regrets are shown in the image of sand burdening and pulling us down. You peaked it with being brought to "our knees." It proved so with me.
Risks are given "wings" that give us the "potential" to fly to doom or soaring success. That depends on the risk and the person who risks.
A chunk of reality in the US is presented with a touch of humor. It makes me see the desperation of people under pressure. Empty racks and the furious search for TP and Tuna. Our absolute dependence on the grocery stores is mirrored with crystal clarity.
"There was barely anything on any of the shelves in any of the aisles!"
The zombie scene is hilarious. These must be the staff who restock the racks if I am not mistaken. That's where the wolves were hunting for the most wanted supplies.
What a situation for a prosperous country! It left me thinking of the less fortunate people of the world.
Well narrated tale of our present misery.
Place and action are clearly shown. Congratulations on the MB decorating the story.
It is very tough to be positive in times of trial. Yet, it is better to bear it all with a smile rather than with a sigh. The smile has the impact of showing hope whereas tears bring forth further sadness.
Your examples of the star and the tall tree serve the purpose of igniting a good feeling and hoping for the best very well indeed.
Another point I notice in this poem is that there are those who suffer more than I. I need to be grateful for what I am today despite the sorrow and pain.
Hello Don,
I can imagine what a rush it might have been at the store. I could see people over-shopping and going crazy with it. Turning the others crazy as well. This is the kind of situation that mirrors our jungle mentality, thousands of years of civilization falls apart with one sweep of the deadly virus. You have shown the present chaos as enacted in the utility store.
"loaves of bread fall, and eggs break—this then starts
a battle for the last roll of T.P."
You have diagrammatically shown a situation similar to emergency of war.
Your reference to Oliver and his "more" are pretty appropriate and relevant.
Story tells of how poetic justice was achieved. The smooth sailing thieves could have escaped to a world of riches if they acted with calm. However, the author succeeded in showing the shattering results of excitement, theft, best laid evil plans and revenge. They saw their own dreams burning alive.
Their wages of sin is to burn in hell as long as they live.
Well delivered flash.
Characters are etched out well despite the limited word-scope.
Enjoyed reading it. Language and style are commendable.
The reasons why America hasn't yet become a completely independent or an ideally perfect nation are precisely stated.
" inequity,
slavery,
hatred,
and all the forces of darkness"
You brought in the element of fate too.
"you have been cursed"
Calling "The Declaration of Independence," a "birth certificate" is absolutely interesting and relevant.
The most important element for a nation to succeed rounds off this socio-political-spiritual poem in an agreeable manner.
" only if
your citizens,
willingly,
tear down the walls
that separate."
The whole poem is applicable to all nations of the earth irrespective their ideologies and doctrines. It has a universal appeal. It questions the leadership of its motives and methods to achieve harmony among the populace, it shows the causes that divide the people at large and finally suggests a way for them to emerge from of the chaos that surrounds us.
Quite interesting and introspective. Isn't that many writers feel till they reach a point of no return?
That man who offered the pen might be my very own conscience.
To me, this story is a kind of questioning my writing goals and intentions. Am I being procrastinating and afraid to start filling that blank left in the depths of my thinking and the page as well?
I think we read more than we write. We write less because writing demands more than what reading does. It takes time, thinking, observing, feeling, understanding, organizing and the skill of precise expression.
Thanks for reminding me of writing better and more.
Write on!
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