Since you have chosen to share this publicly, and since you will have a wide audience, it might make sense to put apostrophes in your contractions and to put spaces between paragraphs. It just would make it easier to read.
You haven't asked for advise, but it does appear that you probably need to be honest with this fellow. You might have already realized the truth about his feelings.
That's hilarious. It reminds me of the time when my uncle was laid off and volunteered to paint our kitchen. My mom told him that she wanted it pastel yellow. He painted it bright school bus yellow. And he used oil paint. We were stuck with it.
But unlike this story. No one in our family came to love the color.
Fascinating story. Fascinating way to meet and engage (ha ha) with the person that one will eventually marry.
I tend to agree with the character. There are very few alcoholic drinks that I find to my liking. I have found 2. One is a fuzzy navel. The other is a tootsie roll, which I haven't found a bartender who can make it since about 1980.
Those are beautiful words honoring the lost crew members of Apollo I, Challenger and Columbia. I never thought about the fact that they all happened between January 27 and February 3.
My son's dad has worked for NASA back when they were using monkeys in testing what speeds would do to humans. His mom had been a teacher, so he was excited about Christa McAuliffe was part of the Challenger crew. I don't think that he watched another launch after that one.
I can see why this won an awardicon. It's very well done. I'm not sure that I would want to be living where wolves go nearby.
One interesting thing about stumbling upon writings from over a decade ago is that the images or links are often out of date. It makes one wonder what we missed by being late to the party.
You would be surprised at how people do respond to real stories about our own lives. Since you have already experienced that drama, you might be able to write about it better than starting off trying to write fiction.
The point is, though, if you are feeling called to write, you need to write. Practice makes perfect, remember?
I look forward to seeing what you decide to share.
I enjoyed reading your poem aloud. (That's the only way to read poetry!) Sure there were a few lines longer than others and some that could probably use some tweaking so that the rhythm was a bit better. But it's your work of heart (or work of heat?) and doing that would be entirely up to you. I've noticed recently that even when one finds a glaring spelling or grammar error in someone's writing, if it's a few years old they don't even care to go back and make corrections. (Sorry about the mini-vent.)
I love your title. And your description fits. And your story is quite humorous. It's already been published elsewhere so I didn't expect to find any errors and I didn't.
I'm glad that you have a local outlet for your humor and that you are brave enough to participate in open mic nights. Poetry reading open mic venues usually have a very different kind of crowd than one finds at comedy clubs.
I know that you wrote a fictional tale, but was it necessary to write this:
And armed white supremacist militias were patrolling the neighborhood, often beating up minorities and other people they deemed suspicious while the police looked the other way, as they were just overwhelmed.
Here's a suggestion:
Armed militias patrolled the neighborhood, while the police looked the other way. They were overwhelmed.
These are just suggestions, mind you, but I think that they would benefit your piece.
I love how you explore the different kinds of poetry and provide a complete explanation about what it is supposed to be.
I always read poetry aloud and I had to giggle about the difference in the way I talk compared to others. Even though I have lived in many states, now that I'm an old lady, I'm slipping into Pittsburghese. For instance, as I was reading I did not say that the word hour had two syllables.
If I force myself, I can look at the words differently, and then the syllables match the intended format.
What an adventure the writer experienced. I've driven through many states, probably at least 30. but it was never on a trip actually designed to drink in the surroundings.
Those few words truly saddened me. It's not that they aren't true. That's the sad part.
I'm a baby boomer, and I was taught to celebrate the successes of others. My friends were taught the same. I certainly taught my son to be the same way.
Somewhere along the line, people have decided to be envious and even angry if others do better than they do. But as your few words imply, those folks are not putting forth the effort required. Losers, as you called them.
Well done. Grandma always said that we should learn something new every day. Today I learned about Saraband Sonnets thanks to you, plus I admit that I checked the dictionary about two words that you used. Thanks!
Sonnets are funny things. I had to write one in my poetry class when I was a senior in high school. The result was an excellent poem, but I had read sonnets from some of our best poets before attempting my own. For some reason, it felt like I was trying to be a cheap imitation of them.
You did a great job with this one. It's heartbreaking to think about a mother who left her spouse and child finally being scheduled to meet her child and grandchold. And then, poof. What a horrible thing for the daughter.
At least the mom spent her last moments remembering.
Some of us understood, Keaton. For example, I have a piece in my portfolio called, "Why write? Why breathe?" I started writing at age 8, sitting in my backyard cherry tree. I have notebooks filled with my writing, pages and pages of writing.
I enjoyed reading your poem aloud, your work of heart.
Kenzie says: "If you dream of being a writer, you already are one! The words are merely being held prisoner in your mind. Release them!"
The same thing is true of being a poet. It looks like you wrote a poem, making you a poet.
As I read your work of heart aloud, (the only way to read poetry, by the way) I admit that there were a few awkward places. When that happens to me, I write down the number of syllables in every line, then read it aloud again as is. Then I look at the longest and shortest lines to see if a simple tweak can take away the awkwardness.
Indeed, memories do harbor both diamonds and rust. Your poem makes that point rather well.
I enjoyed reading your work of heart aloud. The rhythm was good, as were the rhymes.
I have a rather odd flaw myself. I often completely forget the bad memories. Perhaps it was a way for the young me to cope, but that makes me wonder what I forgot.
What a creative poem. Resolutions are something that so many choose to write, but few work to keep. Long ago, I wrote about that, suggesting that we make commitments instead.
I enjoyed reading this aloud. Your word choices were excellent.
Thanks for the reminder that everyone has their own share of struggles of every kind. It's easy to forget that, especially when the people around us have become so good at hiding their struggles.
I enjoyed reading your poem aloud. The rhythm and rhymes were good and the message was important.
Blessings,
Kenzie
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