Excellent , excellent, excellent. I have felt exactly like this. No one could have said it better. You have created a cluster of emotion and told them in story form. MOUTH GROWS FULL This might be the only qualm i have but it could happen. However it seems to take away the innocence and the flow of the work. A first love is never forgotten. I still yearn for mine but then i would--Sandi

Please put "the" in front of nights in the first sentence. It will give it more emphasis. "and spilled." I don't like this description of the wind. Leave out spill. It is hard to grasp that the wind could spill. okay? ..." pick at her fingernails with her pointed teeth" Not a good description. How about she her pointed teeth bit at her long red nails. "Pick and bit" are two different words. ..."certain pouch in the inside pocket of my cloak, I contemplated using its contents to manipulate my ...

Simple you are not, and neither is the message here. Your prose is full of humility that most lack. You speak to the hearts of the reader. Once again you go beyond the surface of pretty rhyme schemes and get to the meat of life. Good poetry sometimes peeks under the pretty and sees the ugly. Most don't want to know what is underneath the beauty but you tell them and they sometimes find fault. Vangoh, the artist, did this too and no one would listen until the ugliness of life was finally flung...

Well, the stanzas are clean. It rolls well on the tongue. I am trying to read through to the symbolism. I suppose Cesar became inhuman or some how lost himself which of course would fit with him slowly eating himself. Many people do that by not living to the fullest. Cesar just stopped living. this is my interpretation of the poem. It cannot be wrong since each reader connects with a prose in a different way and gets something different from it. I cannot make it better. It speaks for itself. ...

Steve, you might need to let the reader know that you are writing a diary first off. Maybe start like this: Dan's Diary May 12, 2115. "and had a light farmer’s tan on his arms and face." You might take out farmers tan and say that his arms were dark from having spent so much time on his boat underneath the open sky and its hot sun . "the man said with a smile" Take this out. We know Uncle Nate is speaking. “Hey you!” Rod shouted. Steve, don't tell his mane yet. Right now he is a stranger. Now...

I don't know what to say. I am enthralled. What a vision of delight like the Night. Look, i won't waste credits. You know you were born a poet. There is a uniqueness about you that no one can touch. You amaze me with the wonderful rhythm and timeliness not to mention timelessness of of your work. Everything you write is so carefully constructed yet, comes out so heartfelt. Pure ambrosia. This may sound risque but do come in. Sandi

Life is full of questions. Who or what is real and who is fake like the acrylic nails of the woman in red. In all of us there is something screaming to get out. Life is about artificiality. Once again you have created a maze for some readers. Lazy ones need not apply. The scene on the carousel is easy to decipher as is the woman in red but i will not ruin it for others. This is like a Vangoh painting. Reds-a kaleidoscope of colors against a back drop that is surreal and may not exist. Perhaps...

Who needs luggage?

Mr D. Do tell. May i swoon. I was about to say must i try and find fault with it when there is none? I love it. It is smart, smooth, and full of conviction. Magnifico. Sandi

D. don't winds whistle only when they blow? It could be a metaphor for you can be very clever. Beside rusty petaled blooms Fallen to extraordinary swoons Of whistling winds catching--------these two lines seems somehow out of synch with what is other wise a breathtaking work. The sun before they blew Fallen to extraordinary swoons of the winds gentle breath as it kisses the sun?????--hey a thought, mind you. I am not much of a poet. Learned a bunch from Jadedpoet who is truly a wordsmith. I l...