|Reviewed by Regis Auffray
|I am always amazed at how much you evoke with your economy of words, Kenny. I do love your poetry. Love and peace to you my friend,
|Reviewed by Joanna Leone
|This is a beautiful poem. I am anxiously awaiting part 2 of this poem! Will you write a poem about courting a "lady fair?" Although there are few words, each word paints a beautiful picture!|
|Reviewed by Southern Comfort
|Beautifully worded and expressed! A lot of feeling packed into a few well chosen words! SC|
|Reviewed by Lucas Wottrich
|I wonder what 'a womans poem' could be about, do they like castles?
I smell a sequel!
|Reviewed by A PAX
|fantastic and fun|
|Reviewed by Andy Turner (Reader)
But I did, as infact many men do. Find it embarassing to admit to weiting\attempting poetry. Followed by it being nerve-racking at first..
|Reviewed by Elizabeth Taylor (Reader)
|Reviewed by Dawn Richerson
|Kenny, I always love your poetry. far as I'm concerned, you've hit upon the ideal mix of excellence in delivery and delicious content that dances about in the mind. so, why not throw down your coat? a happy new year to you, Dawn|
|Reviewed by Sage Sweetwater
|Sturdy with beveled edges locked and fit together so perfectly, this poem is a castle built like the walls of Machu Picchu, no mortar, just an eye for a good poetic fit, beveling the words for a perfect match of surfaces. Kenny, I'd like to enter your castle with your permission and drink red wine from a sterling tankard and listen to you recite poetry. Just roll out the lavender carpet and I'm in. I'll visit on a sunny bright day. GEEZ, I could go on like this all day. Think I'll go run the lint roller across my cowgirl hat!
|Reviewed by Kate Burnside
|Awww... who can beat Baez when it comes to throwing down the gauntlet on the lyric? Your mind is attuned and trained for the poetic highwire in life, those balletic feet sliding out along the tension of an astute muse. "He must ride out and face the blank page" - just LOVE that! And how about this from my fav Polly Clark at the mo:
If you fear you are alone
a poem is a kind of love.
We lie down together
in a faded room.
We get on with the business
of filling the empty page.
Class or what?
Kontrapuntal Kate xx