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This Poem was Submitted By: James C. Horak On Date: 2008-02-11 18:59:40 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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To feel the mourning of the enemy for his dead. And take silent morning the eve of day away At high-walled cemetery, bearer in even tread. To know one moment well such the soul might tell Gathering birds the pall to higher still the bell. Until We know not to be joyed or still.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2008-03-03 21:14:52
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.88889
James, I know the emotion you speak of. Being so proud of the fact one/many offered there lives, thinking idealistically they were doing good, saving their homeland, being patriotic. Which, being their life, is the ultimate gift! And yet still, at such a great loss is so unbearably sad. Spiritually we think of going to the Supreme Being and yet each loss leaves us mourning....... Very nice James. Dellena

This Poem was Critiqued By: Rene L Bennett On Date: 2008-02-15 22:03:15
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
James, You have been penning some serious peoms lately. Dark, I like it...LOL! For some reason it is words as these I understand. Your ending...We know not to be joyed or still...perfect ending. Leaves the reader longing for more. Always, Rene'

This Poem was Critiqued By: Mark Steven Scheffer On Date: 2008-02-11 22:45:06
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
JCH, A spectacluar first line. A line fit for a grand meditation on death, war; a line befitting a great ode. But the syntactical contortionist in you insists, insists on getting on stage and trying his damnedest to twist up the first stanza in line two, to move on with some unbending in line three. Despite your contortionist, still a fine stanza. The first line of the second stanza has your feet over your head. You have asked me to do certain things to make poems you felt had vast potential realize themselves. Now it's MSS's turn to JCH: Would you please, please try to write with syntactical coherence through an entire poem for once? Damn it, you have me tempted to take your grand first line and very good first stanza, tweak it to make it great, and then write the poem that that first line and stanza promises to deliver. If you're up to something stylistically with your syntactical manuevering to produce some desired aesthetic effect; if you're innovating with some kind of Hopkinsian sprung rhythm type - sprung syntax, maybe (smile) - - of thing, perhaps you'd care to explain it to me. I'll listen and accept enlightenment, or tell you your nuts. As it is, I see a potentially exemplary poem marred. Which may be better than seeing you nuts, or me enlightened. Both prospects would send our fellows here running for cover - those who aren't already covered. Mark

This Poem was Critiqued By: Lora Silvey On Date: 2008-02-11 21:57:20
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
You speak of the enemy, and how do we feel upon the death of an advisary...that mixed bag of emotions, sad for the loss of a life, guilty if we feel relief or even a hint of elation for not being the one dead... Unfortunately there are also other situations that leave one with the same feelings...and so do we step back quietly and say a silent prayer or do we cheer and then ask for forgiveness. Sorry I'm rambling, a crow sits at the back door, life is ever changing and one is not always as prepared as they think. Best always, Lora

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