Site-Wide Comment Activity: All Authors | PostPoems

Site-Wide Comment Activity: All Authors


S74rw4rd-13d commented on: a psalm, not for you by redbrick 1 year 18 weeks* ago* The modern poetic equivalent: The modern poetic equivalent to the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World is your poems, this one particularly towering over the poetic landscapeof this site like the Great Lighthouse of Alexandria. The Divine walking barefoot through metaphor and not flinching from queerness is particularly apt and beautiful, a phrase that generates a cosmic power that produces the by-products of light and warmth. [ go to comment ]
redbrick commented on: What Is the Night Without You? by patriciajj 1 year 18 weeks* ago* “What Is the Night Without: “What Is the Night Without You?” is a celestial elegy to longing: where starlight, moonlight, and wind become metaphors for love’s absence and memory’s weight. The speaker transforms yearning into sacred ritual, elevating missing someone into a kind of cosmic prayer. Through lines steeped in devotion and ache, the poem doesn’t just describe distance; it embodies it, making the night sky itself ache with what could have been. It’s tender, timeless, and lit from within by the dream of one kiss that might redeem all the stars. [ go to comment ]
redbrick commented on: Last Inch of Flame by patriciajj 1 year 18 weeks* ago* There's a quiet devastation: There's a quiet devastation that weaves through this poem and is a hushed lament against the smothering weight of survival and distraction. It mourns unlived dreams and the fragments of self lost along the way, as youth fades and ambition turns bureaucratic. The metaphor of a “screaming infant” in the chest hauntingly captures the buried self yearning to be heard. Your imagery, especially dreams as wild mares and inspiration as a corporate climb, speaks of creativity caged by obligation. That final line feels like smoke trailing off a barely-lit match: soft, final, unforgettable. This poem doesn’t just reflect sorrow, it becomes the very breath that sorrow exhales. [ go to comment ]
elliot_jordan2003 commented on: Someone else's Story by elliot_jordan2003 1 year 18 weeks* ago* 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.. [ go to comment ]
redbrick commented on: Someone else's Story by elliot_jordan2003 1 year 18 weeks* ago* Most welcome deear poet : Most welcome deear poet [ go to comment ]
elliot_jordan2003 commented on: Someone else's Story by elliot_jordan2003 1 year 18 weeks* ago* Absolutely thanks for reading: Absolutely thanks for reading [ go to comment ]
S74rw4rd-13d commented on: A Brief Candle in the Wind by Savvart 1 year 18 weeks* ago* 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. [ go to comment ]
S74rw4rd-13d commented on: Brawl with a bear by catclo15 1 year 18 weeks* ago* 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. [ go to comment ]
S74rw4rd-13d commented on: Tree Child by rachel 1 year 18 weeks* ago* 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. [ go to comment ]
ramonathompsont commented on: Our Hero, Trump! by ramonathompsont 1 year 18 weeks* ago* its fine.: its fine. [ go to comment ]
ramonathompsont commented on: Tree Child by rachel 1 year 18 weeks* ago* Love that last line!: Love that last line! [ go to comment ]
catclo15 commented on: jet sking in a hurricane - unfinished by catclo15 1 year 18 weeks* ago* Thank you SO MUCH!: Thank you SO MUCH! [ go to comment ]
Savvart commented on: A Brief Candle in the Wind by Savvart 1 year 18 weeks* ago* 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 :) [ go to comment ]
patriciajj commented on: April Snow by patriciajj 1 year 18 weeks* ago* 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. [ go to comment ]
redbrick commented on: April Snow by patriciajj 1 year 18 weeks* ago* 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. [ go to comment ]