This Poem was Submitted By: Lora Silvey On Date: 2012-01-18 15:57:19 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Cold (ageís shimmer)

Sometimes I feel colder than steel a broken face that canít even take up space Sometimes I feel like a single note solo entendreí, no others to blend Salt is added to my waters and as angels stand all around, I feel waters spill over razors edge in river-lets to pool in frozen time Sometimes it feels so cold, it just wonít warm a heartless cold that will not let me move-- as the living Iíve known are laying ashen and all else becomes crumpled dust Cold, the kind that steals your breath, silencing heartbeats, freezing every thought so hands can no longer button or tie knots just as feet now move only to wavering gate

Copyright © January 2012 Lora Silvey


This Poem was Critiqued By: Mark Andrew Hislop On Date: 2012-02-06 19:12:41
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Dear Lora The chill blows through every word in this. You sustain the pitch throughout really well. The ending in particular "so hands can no longer button or tie knots/just as feet now move only to wavering gate" ... is so stark, it's heartwrenching. One of the best of yours that I've read. Best wishes, Mark.


This Poem was Critiqued By: Tony P Spicuglia On Date: 2012-01-22 10:55:58
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Lora, good morning- you take this piece of reflection and bring us the metaphor (aptly brought) for aging and response to that reflection. The image of water spilling over a razorís edge hits with such impact that the Ėfrozen in time- actually feels such. I donít know if your purpose was such but using spill, razor and pool exacts a separate image of the loss of life blood and all that is left in the frozen is the reflections. I know there is a physical content to dying or suffering from a frozen moment- yet throughout I see eyes peering back and all that has gone before is set; frozen- and the next step is far more difficult as the aging process takes its physical toll. I wonder if there is a special prize to knowing there are those of us who resemble such features. Certainly; it is hoped the picture is a good one.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2012-01-20 17:53:21
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Lora, So nice to read your work! Sounds cold over in your neck of the woods. you write as I about yourself so....... Sometimes it feels so cold, it [I] just [cannot] wonít warm a heartless cold that will not let me move-- as the living Iíve known are laying ashen and all else becomes crumpled dust Cold, the kind that steals your [my or the] breath, silencing heartbeats, freezing every thought so [no 'so'] hands can no longer button or tie knots just as feet now move only to [a] wavering gate Just my thought ....but who am I to tell you? You do so well. Dellena
This Poem was Critiqued By: cheyenne smyth On Date: 2012-01-18 17:09:20
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Hi Lora, This is one of the best poems I have read relating to age. Something we can all relate to. Your word selection is excellent and they provide good imagery to this reader. I would prefer using 10/8 syllable count insteaad of 8/10 but no mater it works, just my personal preference. You have penned good 's' sounds in the first verse. Your third quatrain is especially powerful and evocative. Well done and glad to see you posting again. Best wishes, cheyenne
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