This Poem was Submitted By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2011-11-28 21:24:49 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Indication

Hear the voice of windswept birds  Traversing the freedom of high  Weaving melody through the blue   Soulful crooning of heart's outcry  Creating albums of season's day   Seen from the all observant eye  Sorrow thrives in the winter world Muting light force of Sunshine's sky

Copyright © November 2011 Dellena Rovito


This Poem was Critiqued By: Tony P Spicuglia On Date: 2011-12-04 09:37:42
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
You know Dellena, although I reach to find the thread that unravels a piece of artistry, after several readings (the number depends on my interest in the composition and utility of the piece, the power of the composition, my interest in the poets message, and the fun (fun meaning laughter, tears, and general impact on myself) of reading the piece- I speak to the nature of the composition as best I can determine. You captured a moment in “voice of windswept birds” that automatically drew me to the ocean, for that is where the soaring birds most often speak- though some hawks and eagles do as well. That is neither here nor there, I enjoyed the image (or soundage) if you will. Birds, with the exception of Blue Jays and Crows (nasty, mean and vocal- with a vocalizing that grates at the nerves in my back) (though blue jays are stunning to look at) I am a great lover of birds. I watch, listen to their morning, evening and mating songs- I digress: “soulful crooning” is a fine line for the songbirds, thrushes and nightingales- it meets with the heart- On to the chill of winter- and the analogy to sorrow. Further on, as the winter makes its matter known, on to the loss of the power of “other than winter”. I recall the cry of loneliness for the season- of birds who remain, of coyotes (there are a lot of coyotes and roadrunners here) and I suppose wolves in many places. The sun, as you ascribe- cannot pierce the cold, but remains the gem nevertheless. A wonderful, current image. It was heavy coat cold here recently and yet the gulls- just stationary as they floated on the wind; still sang the chorus of hoooweees.


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