I go to sleep; I’m forty-five.
With my five kids and spouse alive
We’re at our cottage by the lake.
We swim, we sail and then we take
A boat ride to blueberry hill
Where we all pick for pies to fill.
The evening comes, the lake’s like glass
That cracks as loons and beavers pass.
Then crickets start their nightly tune
Which ends the day, oh far too soon.
It was a time of so much fun.
I wake alone; I’m ninety-one.

A very pleasing “proper” poem =D>

Wonderful. And you don’t see me here saying that very often. I’m going to pass this one on to the people I love.

Very nice.

Why don’t you say it that often Phaedrus, do you think most of the poetry and prose and creative writing is piss poor here?? Do tell.

A tight poem over all DEB quite romantic in its way…very pleasant!

yeah, Phaedrus, what gives? and when can we expect to see some of your work here?

(nice poem DEB).

My praise is sincere. I offer it only rarely because I see very little here that merits it, although I don’t mean that in a negative way. I applaud anyone that is willing to open themself up and share a poem; there’s a vulnerability associated with sharing of yourself on such a personal level.

There are many “goals” to poetry and many styles. I particularly like a poem that can cystalize a moment in time, capturing the essence of a fleeting instant that would otherwise vanish into the ether leaving no mark of its passing. The ability to catch a moment or feeling like a fly in amber is very intriguing to me. I appreciate it even more when it’s a feeling that’s so captured, and laid bare for others to experience.

We humans have a lot of things in common, but I think the greatest thing we share is grief. Loss defines our lives, giving us a common bond. We all will die, and most of us will lose those we love. Even more than our common joys, I think we’re are united in the moments of our common sorrows. I’m not trying to put words in the mouth of the writer of this poem, but that’s one theme that strikes me here- it’s that loss that I identify with. Obviously our time is fleeting, and there’s a poignancy in knowing we can never have those moments back. The memory is always bittersweet on account of it.

Perhaps one day you will see a poem of mine here. I have had a few published, but that was years ago. If I come up with anything worthy perhaps I’ll share it.

BTW, I also think it’s very skillfully written. I love the meter and rhythm of this poem. It’s so lyrical, almost musical.

Ok nobody has every heard what i’m about to say before:

It is the Golden Rule giving back to your free will!

=D> very pleasing work of art one only needs to picture it in their mind it vibrates to calm and not rough as if a war scene had been taken place within the mind of the mother. =D>

what better last words from myself could you expect than:
Women are the centre between god and man ,
love and hate , power and slavery ,
purity and possibility ,
man must think before he moves. :wink:

It is time to acknowledge the effort you all made to comment on my poem. I appreciated everyone.

Thank you Chimney Sweep; Thank you Underground Man; Thank you Colinsign; Thank you rainey; Thank you Donnie Darko Fan for the extra effort.

Phaedrus, your expressed intent to share my poem with those you love was the highest form of praise. Thank you. You are an angel.