This Poem was Submitted By: Lora Silvey On Date: 2010-11-28 17:34:44 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Folded Time

Winter’s crisp drifts in  dusting sill and pane to weft ore’ pile and linen to bite toes left naked She burns in frosted repose just beyond hearth’s glow  her bounties of riotous color lie denuded in wake of his cloak a crystalline white, his coverlet  for gardens spent youth And ole’ men sit on porch chairs broken and brittle  watching smoke rings rise  from butted stubs laid carelessly at shine’s bottled edge Aged beyond wither or frail wives nourish where gardens grew  leaving watered images to whisper   like skipping stones cross' my mind a faded black and white photo  coming to life I saw you coming to me in hoarfrost’s breath I knew we’d been here  before 

Copyright © November 2010 Lora Silvey


This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2010-12-04 16:15:35
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.85714
Lora, I read this days ago and thought I'd reviewed it. It's lovely I tell you....... There is a certain reality you write intimately about your past that other writings can't hold a candle to the realism. Just as we each have experienced and identify too. great job! Dellena


This Poem was Critiqued By: Mark D. Kilburn On Date: 2010-12-01 13:52:50
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
There is so much to like about this poem it's hard to begin. Weft! what a fantastic word that one was and perfect use. i only steal from the very best and I will be stealing that one. And ole’ men sit on porch chairs broken and brittle watching smoke rings rise from butted stubs laid carelessly at shine’s bottled edge This is my favorite but only because I so easily identify with old bitter broken men. i got great visuals from all your lines but the butted stubs and shine's bottled edge took me right to a hobo camp though I know that's not what this is about. Doesn't matter to me what it's about it's just a really wonderful read and really you could have gone on and on and on and it wouldn't bother me at all. A nice tidy ending and a wintry feel throughout. No kidding Lara this is one of the better poems I've read in a while. You keep hitting home runs. My only question or suggestion would be share this on other sites and send it out to all you can. great job, mk
This Poem was Critiqued By: Mandie J Overocker On Date: 2010-11-28 22:13:57
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.82353
Lora, Incredible~such vivid images and brilliant poetry. This needs no rhyme for it flows perfectly. Folded Time is such a creative title - apt for this piece. As a photo kept in a wallet has been folded time and time again, memories fold in our minds and it seems we come to know things again and again. I like how you start out describing Nature, and slowly transition and yet don't to describing people. It is so subtle it sneaks up on you at the end in the last verse when you change to first person and makes me want to read it again and again. Great job! Mandie
This Poem was Critiqued By: Tony P Spicuglia On Date: 2010-11-28 19:47:01
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Lora, thank you much for posting. It is something I look forward to each month. When it is not there; I wish for the pleasure. You mix many images in a single photo. Your vision recalls to me the many times I have spent, traveling back to days or places of time. With “ole’ men sit on porch chairs”, there is a particular draw for me. In a way, other than world travel, I have hope to sit and rock- whether the shine is from the bottle, or from the sun. I recall particularly, the black and white photos of my grandparents. Grandma was always weepy, and grandpa was a crotchety old man- the antithesis of what I would be on the porch. Your images of gardens, and frosty mornings hold the true meaning of recall; been there before? I think we traveled with you as you spoke. I am so glad I didn’t miss your post this month.
This Poem was Critiqued By: cheyenne smyth On Date: 2010-11-28 18:45:25
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.69231
Hi Lora, This is a stunning poem with delicious images and well written lines. You have done something I don't see too often and that is....your last five lines are your hook. When I read them I went back and read the poem again, thinking I may have missed why it goes from third person to first person and then it dawned on me why you wrote it that way. Your phrasing and theme are excellent. Bravo and roses at your feet. Best wishes, cheyenne
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