Very nice, i used this AI app: Very nice, i used this AI app where it turns your words into songs.
Some of my lyrics sound amazing to the way AI designed. So now
I know how to actually sing it and have my friends learn it haha..
Yes, I have enjoyed it very: Yes, I have enjoyed it very much. I read it again, just now. The power and truth of your phrases is very, very impressive.
I used to feel that way about: I used to feel that way about Boy Scout meetings, where I was routinely bullied for appearing to be "different," and being one of the weaker kids. The bullies were sometimes as ferocious as bears.
During my first thirteen: During my first thirteen years, I lived next to a pine tree forest. Ironically, the person who owned it made a fortune each Christmas season, although he was the town's outspoken athiest. Our street, and the eleven properties that lay along the western edge of the forest, had once been part of it which, before tje State had been settled, must have been a hunting site for the natiive population as my father plowed up several flint arrowheads (which I now have) when he first laid out his back yard garden some years before he and my mother adopted me. The air was always, those thhirteen years, filled with pine scent, and both beauty and mystery adorned the forest. You describe your own forest very well; and while I cannot agree with the last line, I knew that my forest seemed like God had specifically made the forest for our town. Your poem really helped me revisit those memores . . . thank you for that.
Thank you: So glad you enjoyed the poem. It was originally written in 1983, has been reworked, and here it is. I did originally take some inspiration from Candle in the Wind (very little) but nonetheless it is there. I shall ponder your thoughts. Much appreciation for the comments :)
I can't thank you enough for: I can't thank you enough for taking the journey with me and leaving such radiant footprints. They are poetry itself! So honored by your support.
It's a privilege to be a part: It's a privilege to be a part of your fascinating journey and your crucial mission. You have made a difference and yes, God, the angels and your dear friend in Heaven, rejoice.
April Snow arrives like an: April Snow arrives like an unwelcome guest, yet the poetic narrator gently surrenders to its surprise.
What begins as disruption becomes a sacred invitation, a ritual disguised as weather.
The awkward snowfall lures them from artifice into raw presence,
where even light moves like a “liquid shaman” descending to heal.
In that hush, the chiseled smiles and scripted connections of their other life melt quietly away.
The snow, once resented, becomes grace, blessing the speaker in a soft, unrequested baptism.
By the end, this isn't just a seasonal anomaly, but a moment of inner transformation:
a communion with mystery. And the soul, anointed, walks forward into understanding.
Your words trace orbits of:
Your words trace orbits of their own; thank you for launching such warmth into my little corner of the cosmos. To know that "After the Comet" landed with someone attuned to the quiet majesty of the heavens makes the whole poetic trajectory feel worthwhile. I’ve always believed that what some call random motion (ellipses and echoes) is often where meaning hides, waiting to be witnessed. You’ve done just that, and I’m deeply grateful, Starward-Led, for your constellation of kindness.