This Poem was Submitted By: Mark Andrew Hislop On Date: 2008-06-04 18:45:34 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

To Listen to Music While Reading this Poem, just Click Here!

Click Here To add this poem to your "Voting Possibilities" list!

Elegy

I lie down in the bed of my dead love, dead myself. In some little, unseen cleft a shadow exhausts itself to zero, evening assumes a most radiant black. Night’s face sits adoring an emptiness, a thick, blackening bone with no marrow. Her sunlight, zoomed now to eternity, lies fixed in a black hole of memory.

Copyright © June 2008 Mark Andrew Hislop

This Poem was Critiqued By: Mark Steven Scheffer On Date: 2008-09-05 17:33:25
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
A more honest voice never haunted these grounds. I suspect you've never written a line of bullshit. I know, just as Italians know pasta - if I may be forgiven for comparing my beloved pasta to bullshit. Forgive me for not critiquing this when it mattered. May it bring you forth now. Your friend, ever, MSS

This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2008-07-06 15:37:33
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Mark, I know the misery of which you speak. Like the sun was there in all its glory and then it left and you lie at the other end of the spectrum. [hell] And memory is only pain. What power she had and used over you. Bewitched, I'd say. Dellena
This Poem was Critiqued By: James C. Horak On Date: 2008-07-01 00:06:58
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
The funeral dirge is something of a strange calling foreboding to all our ultimate paths. Your poem, mindful of this, sounds, like the tolling bells in Hemmingway's novel, the grave senses of loss life yields to us all. In Mexico, among the Mayan Indian villages, are festivals to celebrate the dead. That celebration is the right word, offers another, less odious side to passing. Were we to accept belief can manifest, even our intellectual side might take solace in the hope. And bitterness becomes but folly. JCH
This Poem was Critiqued By: marilyn terwilleger On Date: 2008-06-05 14:47:58
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Hi Mark....it matters not how you lose a love....seperation, divorce or death...the grief is the same. I should have written this, I know how it feels to be both alive and dead at the same time. Sorrow lives in every line of this piece and it is difficult to read with a dry eye. If I were to do a line by line critique I could say nothing more than your words and imagery stabs my core. I'm not quite sure what prompted this poem but it is among your very best. So dare ya go another fluff critique so just shoot me and get it over with. (smile) Hugs....Mazza
Poetry Contests Online at The Poetic Link

Click HERE to return to ThePoeticLink.com Database Page!