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2/28/2017 9:09:02 PM J. Amorose Posts: 19	NOTE - Originally posted in the other critique forum; however, I decided to bump it up. Enjoy. The Navy Pilot's Lover (Or A Sestina in Six and a Half Stanzas) Sitting on the rooftop, wavy hair billowing In the wicked wind, fluttering away like herself She clasps to her neck the silvery heart-locket Before looking down from her shady alcove She has no more time to waste, and, deciding a decided decision, Tumbles through the sky... _ When she was younger, she always looked to the sky A source of inspiration, like the flags billowing Patriotic she was for countries not hers, patriotic her decision To go to the celebration of another land, that day of herself There, in the shadows, she found an alcove In the young boy who later gave her the heart-locket. The boy, while certainly not a looker, was perfect for her, like the heart-locket The reckless one, always wanting to fly for his country, a Navy pilot, up in the sky And maybe that's why she chose him as the perfect alcove For when premature death sealed his lips, only the flag knew her story, billowing Its tragic tale into the world, mixing with the song of herself That only she knew. That, at least, was her decision. Despite the many voices, she made her own decision And visited his coffin the day of his funeral, the heart-locket Reflecting the pilot's face for the final time, he dropped out of the sky. Had no reason to die. They found the body. A miracle for her and only herself. The grey tombstone where she lived, the flag he died for above their heads, billowing, Etched with his name in the color of death. Her alcove... _ The funeral procession proceeds, though they all try to crack smiles. They visit her alcove, The gravestone of a young boy so foolish to die. But really it was his decision. The ominous flag like her hair that fateful night, billowing With another life captured, preserved only in the heart-locket Capturing the essence of what it meant for them to fly. The ground and the sky Still encircling her neck, it sang her song, unsung except in the darkest nights, for herself. Now there is no such thing as herself, Only her cadaver, lying in its plot next to his, in the final alcove She found before falling from the sky. Just like him, that young boy, his eyes sparkling with his dream and his decision To fly above the waves with her and the glitter of her heart-locket, The flag he served forever in the air, billowing. “Still capturing the essence of the sky, her waves of hair billowing Remind us that she is lost forever. She could not live for herself, and her final decision Reflects the alcove of the gravestones and the spark in the heart-locket.”
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3/4/2017 8:22:42 PM J. Amorose Posts: 19	Can anyone critique? All efforts appreciated!
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3/7/2017 9:57:57 PM J. Amorose Posts: 19	Anyone please critique?
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3/8/2017 1:44:50 AM Doug Vinson Posts: 102	J.A. it's preposterously late here and I can read your poem again later, but I like it a lot. Don't see much to criticize. "deciding a decided decision" - I do think this sounds awkward, though. Cheers, Doug.
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3/11/2017 6:49:41 PM J. Amorose Posts: 19	Thanks. I wanted to play around with the word in that line, so... Ended up how it did.
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3/15/2017 12:08:08 AM Doug Vinson Posts: 102	A well-told tale, J.A.
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