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gone, the heavens sweet baby blues remembered from times long past clarity's blessings were not to last dark blustery clouds vomit rain and dreams drown in the puddle of every day that slipped away muddled and dirty lie the waters so like the mood affecting mind sunshine radiates without a sign dim lit skies show of murky gray vitality plays dull and wanes away into every crevice north winds blow life moves inward as cryonic repose sleep of the dead is the withered rose grueling existence rears it's head winter's coldness has claimed it's bed
This Poem was Critiqued By: Tony P Spicuglia On Date: 2011-11-05 11:53:13
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.83333
Dellena, what first struck me was the impressions of inclimate weather to dour moods. The “baby blues” sets it off- with the impressionist painting of rain contrasting the lost of the past. I wondered; having a emotions rise with the reading, and welcoming the largess of the issue (which I believe I have grasped from your writing) why my feelings so akin, actually grasped for the moment with such fervency. Analyzing myself in your poignant verse, I came again to understand me much better; the part of me that through sadness and melancholy of living, has come to see such emotions as much as my best friend, as I see it as undesirable; to wit- a sadness best dealt with with joy. So, there I am, at winter’s metaphoric bed; and finding myself rereading several more times because it scratches the itch that needs nourishment. Well said lady, well said.
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