This Poem was Submitted By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2009-10-13 18:45:03 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Change nibbles on wood As a termite gnawing  Dust bites descend to become  Residue strewn across ground Blending bits disappear into soil  As if they had never been Every moment's shape Forms into the now The fated face of today Traveling toward tomorrow Time moving it's slowest When it's most necessary……….. to become.

Copyright © October 2009 Dellena Rovito

This Poem was Critiqued By: Claire H. Currier On Date: 2009-11-05 07:49:47
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Interesting read my friend.....I often watched my grampa whittling away on a piece of wood and was amazed at the finished product...such talent I thought, wish I could do that too. Now, here you present to me 'life' in the form on a piece to be whittled on and how we individually create a piece of art, or not. each day does take form and perhaps very different from the one before but in reality we all are our own creation and the many faces we wear during this time of life depends on perhaps just where we are, who we are and what we are working on becoming. As you can tell I still rattle on and perhaps I make no sense to you but this is what I felt as I read and to me it is a really good, if not great presentation. Hope you are well.....I'm on meds for this flu bug that won't leave town....stay warm and well....God Bless, Claire

This Poem was Critiqued By: James C. Horak On Date: 2009-11-01 07:45:32
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
I was not old enough to have seen the whittlers of my home town. By the time I was five, they had all become knife traders, gathering in the small town's center to show off new acquisitions, seldom though, actually trading any. Slight compensation, I suppose, for having no nearby Masonic lodge. All things come, in time, to be transitory, even mountains,the course of rivers, some statue of Ozymandias. The expression of novel idea, a well-written story, some grand poem...slighted now perhaps, but meant to go deep into genetic knowledge...well that may last even longer than the hills. Even something so seemingly insignificant as a carving, if unique enough, might be found millions of years later in God's Depository. The elevation of one theme to that more encompassing IS the purpose of poetry in its highest aspect and, as you can see in your effect on me, you've done quite well in succeeding here. JCH
This Poem was Critiqued By: DeniMari Z. On Date: 2009-10-18 13:53:47
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.30769
Good poem Dellena, we all have to nibble at life everyday - move with spirit; accept what we can not change, and look forward to the future with zest & enthusiam. Time seems to move the slowest; when we put ourselves on hold, we're just missing out on the adventure of living a complete & satisfied life. I've just looked out the window at my logs, some I've nibbled into, some are just sitting there wet, Nicely done, Deni
This Poem was Critiqued By: Lora Silvey On Date: 2009-10-15 12:48:42
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Dellena, This is a well thought out and constructed poem. Your verbiage is fresh and metaphors are inviting, painting unique images on the mind. This is one of your best poems and I applaud you for such a fine write. Most enjoyable.. no nits.. nor suggestions. Aho, Lora
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