This Poem was Submitted By: Medard Louis Lefevre Jr. On Date: 2015-01-14 02:06:15 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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The sameness of everyday

Before the last moment I was alive I saw too many things, I saw only something I felt too many things and I felt nothing I heard God's exquisite voice and then absolute silence I felt the touch of perfect love and then I could not feel I thought I would live forever until I did not. Did time stop a moment for me or was it for that which I could not see a feeling of sadness of what was and will be. We all choose a path the right or the wrong while dreaming of eternity we stumble along. I see you do you see me do you know what I am do I know you the intimacy of you in me  and I in you is it worth the cost and the price of the cost the tragedy, the wonder the crisis, the hope the only resolution is the sameness of every day the sameness of everyday. I am not anybody I am no one... not living a life just living a role. I watched the years bury the days and on their graves I placed my flowers to decorate a memory as my life decays and the wineless minutes are mistaken for hours. I have said enough

Copyright © January 2015 Medard Louis Lefevre Jr.

Additional Notes:
I am not prolific enough of a writer for this site and I feel inadequate to write critiques, some of that is my reclusive nature and mental illness. Regardless, this is a great place to allow someone like me to post my thoughts.


This Poem was Critiqued By: Tony P Spicuglia On Date: 2015-01-22 20:58:45
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Let me begin at the ending. “I have said enough” – and there the well written treatise reaches a peak beyond the didactic resolution, or dissolutions of the entire soliloquy. I kept waiting for a syntax problem, or maybe an edit that jumps out at me- I was very taken by each line, waiting for the next, knowing in the feelings, there couldn’t be more. I was wrong. This is a marvelous piece. It states a state of mind, and then the distractions to that state. It couples no truth, as truth, and disassembles the foundations of that truth. You have said enough. Indeed. Throughout the piece I found bits and pieces of me, scattered through the years, and you, in the focus of the resolution. Very, very well done.


This Poem was Critiqued By: Joe Gustin On Date: 2015-01-19 09:46:21
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
I sense a great sadness in this poem and feel the pain of a great loss in your life. You portray it beautifully. The trade off we do is in order for us to feel great loss we must of felt great love. In order for us to know sadness we must have known how to feel joy. Your poem says all this and more. It was a pleasure to read. You have some killer stanzas in this work. For me the biggest stand out is The last stanza. WOW. As for your comment line, just know that I do appreciate your critiques. Please don't underestimate the power of your imputs
This Poem was Critiqued By: Lora Silvey On Date: 2015-01-18 11:01:18
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Medard dear friend, your writing style is unique to you and one that is most enjoyable. For this reader, your thoughts and style have always been refreshing and openly honest. You touch the inner regions of thought, those places many refuse to go... thank you for sharing your work. Please note that whenever you have shared your thoughts in a critique they are so very much appreciated...they are like your poetry... real and geniune... best always--Lora
This Poem was Critiqued By: Marcia L McCaslin On Date: 2015-01-14 12:12:40
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Hi Medard. So surprised and delighted to see you participating again! My favorite line—really caught my breath—made me say “I wish I’d thought of that!” I watched the years bury the days and on their graves I placed my flowers. Excellent line! I really have to take exception of what you said in your notes. There are fine expressions and heart-felt longings and puzzlement in your words. “wineless minutes” is another. Starts out reminding me of “The Highwaymen” song: (I died but I’m still alive). So this piece is kind of like each thought you have is a dice, rolled helter-skelter out on the table and then you have put them in an order that seemed orderly to you, and then we the critiquers come along and merely tell you what your piece said to US. That’s the extent of my talent, right there. So I may completely miss what you’re trying to say—but what difference does it make—I am richer for the lines that are new and fresh and make me read them twice. “decorate a memory”—another jewel of a line—I’ve never heard it before and I read a lot. So I have to ask you to reconsider ‘commenting’ on my poems. I have Zero Ego concerning them, Medard—if you were to say you have no interest concerning my subject matter and my form or lack of it puts you to sleep, I’d jump up and down to think you took the time to tell me. Tell people how their writing made you feel—good, bad, indifferent. Did you like the rhyme or lack of it. Did you like the alliteration or lack of it. All I know for sure is when I check the site and no one has a word to say, I feel let down. The writing of the poetry is a solitary, lonely business—but the conversations during critiques is fun, and social, and makes us a community no matter how far apart we live. So, please reconsider. And thanks so much for posting b/c the site needs a major transfusion. It’s a great site, but if no one ‘plays’ it will die. Thanks again. Good luck always. Marcia McCaslin PS. I, too, am reclusive in my personal life. I only engage well on the internet.
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