Poetry Forum

dlsmalling - all messages by user

3/17/2012 4:08:42 PM
Our Wedding Day	A great poem cannot be about the self, the self must only an analogy for the world ... this is the poem's universal appeal and not its title, which only can promise an argument in the mortal conversation about immortal anxieties. Best wishes, Sherry. edited by dlsmalling on 3/17/2012
3/17/2012 4:21:06 PM
Our Wedding Day	I stand before you now trying To remember when we were one "I do" wish what I wsas thinking Was suddenly naked in the sun Again. Love is a hide and seek Game until we find what we are I pray my thoughts does truly leak Like my pores, for thoughts dare My will not hide my soul again. I Want to defy the odds love's history To live with you for you until I die At pundits, sage, and sin scoff and defy I marry you to recover my place Where your heart beats above my face.
3/17/2012 4:33:03 PM
The Wait (not to sure on the structure)	It is okay to wait, just do not let them read it, but feel it. I read your anxiety ... but the poem has none, this is a disconnect between what you feel and what the poem tells. Make it cruptic, with only the promise in a few concrete statements. You can do it again, I believe.
3/17/2012 4:45:02 PM
The Wait (not to sure on the structure)	This morning when the sun began I began to time the coming of your words The fusing of our flesh Like light and morning glory And the mountain was far away, and its ice Summit dripped drop by drop With seconds that does not suffice To count the lengthening brevity of day. The wind came and suddenly stop There was no footsteps after it Only its silence like a torn blanket around my heart The sun slivers away so the moon will come All that is left of the ice today I am such a little drop jn a swollen bulge of sky Such a clamor of the heart for things melting I have no more expectation of the sun And the moon is such a little drip of hope Cold and shivering ... the last dew hangs Waiting .... waiting Precariously like a heart in love And to think this moment My life depends on this How hard will the wind blow I hang for dear life at the tip Of a leaf shivering under the moon
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