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Of An Age

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  • albiaicehouse
    Of An Age In early November, The cruel sunlight Illuminates your last fiery leaves, Echoing remnants of last month s finery, But more so, Shines across the
    Message 1 of 4 , Nov 2, 2006
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      Of An Age

      In early November,
      The cruel sunlight
      Illuminates your last fiery leaves,
      Echoing remnants of last month's finery,
      But more so,
      Shines across the crows feet relief
      Now revealed.

      I'd like to ride
      Your bone structure hills
      Rubbing where last night's winds
      Have stripped you down
      To gray bark,
      Gray table rocks -
      Baubles
      From mile thick ice.

      When others look away
      From you,
      Of a certain age,
      My loins are stirred
      To wander around you,
      Deceived by nothing,
      Where your streams are plain,
      Your hopes are gurgling springs
      To be traced,
      And your life 'til now,
      Preserved in brown sheaves,
      Love letters,
      Lays rain, wind, and frost flattened,
      Ready to be read
      Before their delicate inky veins
      Dissolve under snow.


      albi
      Copyright 2006
    • Carol
      Dear Albi, Wow. This is a great poem. This is the leafless branch revealed in all its glory, stark naked and delightful. You talk about the lines, the
      Message 2 of 4 , Nov 3, 2006
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        Dear Albi,
        Wow. This is a great poem. This is the leafless branch revealed in all
        its glory, stark naked and delightful. You talk about the lines, the
        structure in phrases of humility and devotion, as if marveling in the
        sight for the first time. The subject is obviously a women, not
        perfect, but it is her vulnerabilities, her imperfections, which shine
        through. This is a great example of metaphor and theme carried
        throughout the flow of the piece. I have a few minor suggestions you
        might look at, but this piece works very well as is.
        Carol

        Of An Age

        In early November,
        The cruel sunlight (good personification)
        Illuminates your last fiery leaves,
        Echoing remnants of last month's finery,
        But more so,
        Shines across the crows feet relief (crow's)
        Now revealed.

        I'd like to ride
        Your bone structure hills (bone structure is a bit general and I like
        more concrete images—how about something along the lines of
        "cheekboned hills"?)
        Rubbing where last night's winds
        Have stripped you down
        To gray bark,
        Gray table rocks -
        Baubles
        From mile thick ice.

        When others look away
        From you,
        Of a certain age,
        My loins are stirred (leave out "are" and use just "stir")
        To wander around you,
        Deceived by nothing,
        Where your streams are plain, ("plain" means simple or prairie?)
        Your hopes are gurgling springs
        To be traced, (in the past three lines, see if you can find a way to
        get rid of the "to be" verbs at least once—gurgle or trace might serve
        the piece better there)
        And your life 'til now,
        Preserved in brown sheaves,
        Love letters,
        Lays rain, wind, and frost flattened,
        Ready to be read
        Before their delicate inky veins
        Dissolve under snow. (great images and nice dismount)
        --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, albiaicehouse <no_reply@...> wrote:
        >
        > Of An Age
        >
        > In early November,
        > The cruel sunlight
        > Illuminates your last fiery leaves,
        > Echoing remnants of last month's finery,
        > But more so,
        > Shines across the crows feet relief
        > Now revealed.
        >
        > I'd like to ride
        > Your bone structure hills
        > Rubbing where last night's winds
        > Have stripped you down
        > To gray bark,
        > Gray table rocks -
        > Baubles
        > From mile thick ice.
        >
        > When others look away
        > From you,
        > Of a certain age,
        > My loins are stirred
        > To wander around you,
        > Deceived by nothing,
        > Where your streams are plain,
        > Your hopes are gurgling springs
        > To be traced,
        > And your life 'til now,
        > Preserved in brown sheaves,
        > Love letters,
        > Lays rain, wind, and frost flattened,
        > Ready to be read
        > Before their delicate inky veins
        > Dissolve under snow.
        >
        >
        > albi
        > Copyright 2006
        >
      • albiaicehouse
        Carol, All at once, I m happy someone got my poem and my joy is doubled that the someone is you, one of my personal favorites as an author of free verse
        Message 3 of 4 , Nov 3, 2006
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          Carol,

          All at once, I'm happy someone "got" my poem and my joy is doubled
          that the someone is you, one of my personal favorites as an author of
          free verse poems.

          Thank you.

          I'm scooping up all the suggies too.

          albi


          --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, "Carol" <carol_emt87@...> wrote:
          >
          > Dear Albi,
          > Wow. This is a great poem. This is the leafless branch revealed in all
          > its glory, stark naked and delightful. You talk about the lines, the
          > structure in phrases of humility and devotion, as if marveling in the
          > sight for the first time. The subject is obviously a women, not
          > perfect, but it is her vulnerabilities, her imperfections, which shine
          > through. This is a great example of metaphor and theme carried
          > throughout the flow of the piece. I have a few minor suggestions you
          > might look at, but this piece works very well as is.
          > Carol
          >
          > Of An Age
          >
          > In early November,
          > The cruel sunlight (good personification)
          > Illuminates your last fiery leaves,
          > Echoing remnants of last month's finery,
          > But more so,
          > Shines across the crows feet relief (crow's)
          > Now revealed.
          >
          > I'd like to ride
          > Your bone structure hills (bone structure is a bit general and I like
          > more concrete images—how about something along the lines of
          > "cheekboned hills"?)
          > Rubbing where last night's winds
          > Have stripped you down
          > To gray bark,
          > Gray table rocks -
          > Baubles
          > From mile thick ice.
          >
          > When others look away
          > From you,
          > Of a certain age,
          > My loins are stirred (leave out "are" and use just "stir")
          > To wander around you,
          > Deceived by nothing,
          > Where your streams are plain, ("plain" means simple or prairie?)
          > Your hopes are gurgling springs
          > To be traced, (in the past three lines, see if you can find a way to
          > get rid of the "to be" verbs at least once—gurgle or trace might serve
          > the piece better there)
          > And your life 'til now,
          > Preserved in brown sheaves,
          > Love letters,
          > Lays rain, wind, and frost flattened,
          > Ready to be read
          > Before their delicate inky veins
          > Dissolve under snow. (great images and nice dismount)
          > --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, albiaicehouse <no_reply@> wrote:
          > >
          > > Of An Age
          > >
          > > In early November,
          > > The cruel sunlight
          > > Illuminates your last fiery leaves,
          > > Echoing remnants of last month's finery,
          > > But more so,
          > > Shines across the crows feet relief
          > > Now revealed.
          > >
          > > I'd like to ride
          > > Your bone structure hills
          > > Rubbing where last night's winds
          > > Have stripped you down
          > > To gray bark,
          > > Gray table rocks -
          > > Baubles
          > > From mile thick ice.
          > >
          > > When others look away
          > > From you,
          > > Of a certain age,
          > > My loins are stirred
          > > To wander around you,
          > > Deceived by nothing,
          > > Where your streams are plain,
          > > Your hopes are gurgling springs
          > > To be traced,
          > > And your life 'til now,
          > > Preserved in brown sheaves,
          > > Love letters,
          > > Lays rain, wind, and frost flattened,
          > > Ready to be read
          > > Before their delicate inky veins
          > > Dissolve under snow.
          > >
          > >
          > > albi
          > > Copyright 2006
          > >
          >
        • queen_of_cryptic_cyphers
          Albi, I love many of the images you present in this poem. It is a wonderful testament of real love through the course of life. I had a few suggies but as I
          Message 4 of 4 , Nov 9, 2006
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            Albi,

            I love many of the images you present in this poem. It is a
            wonderful testament of real love through the course of life.
            I had a few suggies but as I reread it over and over, I sensed that
            any change would interrupt your personal tone and style. So it is
            good as it stands. But I have inserted my thoughts for you to
            consider below anyway.

            Cheers,
            Gwen


            Of An Age

            In early November,
            The cruel sunlight
            Illuminates your last fiery leaves,
            Echoing remnants of last month's finery,
            ...../Trailing remnants..../
            But more so,
            Shines across the crows feet relief
            Now revealed.
            ...../unkindly revealed./

            I'd like to ride
            Your bone structure hills
            ...../bone structured/ ???
            Rubbing where last night's winds
            Have stripped you down
            To gray bark,
            Gray table rocks -
            Baubles
            From mile thick ice.....[these lines are classic albi's]

            When others look away
            From you,
            Of a certain age,
            My loins are stirred.....[so warm and tender]
            To wander around you,.....[use an m-dash]
            Deceived by nothing,.....[end with a period]
            Where your streams are plain,
            Your hopes are gurgling springs
            To be traced,
            And your life 'til now,
            Preserved in brown sheaves,
            Love letters,
            Lays rain, wind, and frost flattened,
            Ready to be read
            Before their delicate inky veins
            Dissolve under snow.
            ...............[the ending is phenominally emotion wrought
            ...............nice and strong...great poem]


            albi
            Copyright 2006
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