Thank you Wordman, they: Thank you Wordman, they usually put their mugs in the sink so when they have left the reality of being alone comes back, so to see their mugs left where they were sitting and having to carry them to the kitchen remimded me of the days when I had a family here to look after. That was such a lovely feeling. I'm so tired of being on my own, one needs to feel useful and needed
i think. At least they are only a few miles away, not in another town or worse another country.
There is a paradox in this: There is a paradox in this poem: its relative brevity, and the way the lines are formatted make for an interesting poem. But, if I may say so with the utmost respect, its subject matter is so poignant that it is also a difficukt poem to read. But, towering above those aspects (which, balance each other out), is this aspect: it is a very important poem to read!!!!!!
This is a tremendous: This is a tremendous testimony to hope and faith, and I applaud the way it is formatted on the screen---its appearance as a particular power to the individual words and the lines those words form.
Thank you for validating an: Thank you for validating an opinion I have had for a long time, that red screams. And I loved your phrase, "molding ideology." At the moment, that ideology is far less intact than Lenin is. However, I once saw an editorial cartoon, decades ago, but so horrifying I have never forgotten it, although I now could not be able to find it (and am glad I cannot). It depicted Lenin creeping from his tomb as a resuscitated Communism; and the look that was drawn on his face was so sinister, so terrifying, and, if I may use the word, demonic, that I threw the paper away before I had finished reading the news. I don't know if you ever watched whas broadcast as the first episode of a triology that Rod Serling called Night Gallery, and which became the series. It featured a painting of a cemetery which showed a dead man climbing from his grave. As terrifying as those paints were, the editorial cartoon of Lenin was worse.
And, I am still grinning broadly (so broadly I think the other residents in my home think I am up to something---maybe waiting for Norfolk Southern's stock to nose-dive, so I can afford some) at your phrase, your tremendously magnificent phrase, "to deny the old corpse." That is one for the quotations books, and deserves to join all those other magnificent phrases that are a staple and a glory of your Poetic accomplishment.
A not-so-fond farewell to the: A not-so-fond farewell to the red menace that begins, before the first word is read, with the color of blood and screams (Yes, red has a sound).
I took great pleasure in this brilliant rebuke at the grave where relics of the past still cling to a molding ideology. This line explodes:
"whose lives are cheap, frayed threads yanked from warped spools."
You aimed and fired with triumphant wit, and what a clever choice to deny the old corpse the dignity of a formal, metrical sonnet.
Excellent work!
lonliness is eased to a: lonliness is eased to a certain degree by fond memories such as this,
and in your sharing, we all benefit.
Here's a wish for more time together soon for all of you.
I love how everything: I love how everything disappeared except the kiss. As always, fervently and skillfully constructed, with a feeling of satisfaction throughout. A keeper!
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