zodiac
on sad moments by rbooey
7 Jul 2005, 2:53 AM
Good luck to you. Personally, I imagine God being thoroughly Old Testament and all of us getting the fiery poker in the rump.
skies, not skys.
"Their lifeâs the warâs ; sometimes their death is, too!"
Yeah, that kind of follows logically, doesn't it? The rest is decent. Live from the desert. Over and out.
I still don't understand the "And" part. I love the title, but the connection is lacking.
I'm with you.
But maybe we're coming at it wrong. What's the bastard of hypocrisy? Well, depends on who's the father. Can we do tests? At a guess, I'd say the bastard of Hypocrisy (by Television, who's incidentally married to an aging stage actress) produces Bluemonkey, who hates them both and yet is hopeless heir to their various unique stupidities.
"concerns the calf / only for the fun of it," is bumpy. You don't (typically, in any English that's ever existed) concern something for something else in that sense. Unless by concerns you mean 'makes him concerned, worries', and mayhap you do. Anyway, it's kind of like saying "flapping my arms concerns me for feeling like a bird". Do you see what I'm saying?
Otherwise, I enjoyed.
their life's the war's.
their life "is" the War's life? is that what it means?
Thanks. To me it's like stripping a thing until nothing but the thing itself is left, something like that.
If Frank leaves you in the dark, maybe you should try to find a door. Like 'The Day Lady Died', that's a beautiful poem.
Fix line 2 and this is a 10.
This poem could be great. I found it too simple. Perhaps if you gave us more a sense of its Magic.
How does this place feel? We know the wind is always calm but how does it look? How does it smell? How is it lit? What time of day are we seeing it, In moonlight, starlight, sunshine?
The descriptions are flat and matter of fact and because of this, the poem loses its Magic.
Iâd love to see this reworked. Paint it more vivid. Take us somewhere enchanted!
Hmmm...perhaps if I added some barnyard animals you would understand.
Your poem leaves me with the sense that Mother Earth has no love for winter and that in fact sheâs dead throughout the entire season. Is that what you intended?
All the words melt together in an unappealing stew of a novice Witchâs brew.
"plying a fiddle."
Interesting poem.
Ahh, drugs. super. Ever seen a crack baby? ghastly.
Lose everything but this:
Mother Earth
Has gone to sleep.
Lamenting, the wind
Wails and weeps.
Not big on Leprechauns and Pixies.
Actually, I think this isn't bad. Don't like the last line, but whatever.
bleeech.