This Poem was Submitted By: Joe Gustin On Date: 2013-02-18 14:01:19 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Anew

How does it begin How does anything begin  but with an ending of something old  abandoned, forgot.   Like favored shoes  of long ago. or neglected stuffies  that once or twice  held you through  the darkest night   Ryhmes of childhood  spoken to the beat of  a skipping rope no longerer remembered no longer spoke   It is to this that I bequeath my darkest sadness Yet onto to this alter  heave my greatest hope There can be newness in death when the old words finally  run out of breath

Copyright © February 2013 Joe Gustin


This Poem was Critiqued By: Lora Silvey On Date: 2013-03-03 09:53:26
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Hello Joe, I found this an easy and enjoyable read with good flow that moves your reader through your verses smoothly. The content of your lines leads the reader to pause and reflect on their meaning and possibly make a personal connection with your thoughts. One small suggestion: Ryhmes of childhood spoken to the beat of a skipping rope (you might consider changing this to "skip a rope" more in line with your style) no longerer remembered (remove the secone "er" from the word "longer") no longer spoke Again, most enjoyable, thank you for sharing. Lora


This Poem was Critiqued By: cheyenne smyth On Date: 2013-02-27 14:55:11
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Hi Joe, well I guess it is just you and me. Seems everyone else has abandoned the site. That being said I do love your poem. In fact your descriptive words speak so much of the death of TPL. Each verse has been written with care and a profound theme makes this piece a pleasure to read. If I had to pick a favorite verse (and I'm glad I don't) it would be the last. It is powerful and thought provoking. Well done and maybe we should hang on just to see what happens next! Best wishes, cheyenne
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