|Reviewed by Rhonda Galizia
|Anita, I can always count on you to glean the truth from any set of circumstances - and reflect it through your award-winning pen!
Outstanding, as always, Sister!
|Reviewed by Approximately Naive
|Our lives are but a mist - here in the morning, gone by noon. Like a flower we blossom into full bloom, wilt then disappear. We are surrounded by passing mists and flowers ever day of our lives but soon forget their impact. That is a sobering thought. One day, each of us will vanish, forgotten in the course of time as if we never existed. Someone wake me up before my bed is empty!|
|Reviewed by Andy Turner (Reader)
|Yeah I had this experiance noticing what my ex had not taken..lol
Valid point you make, it's reality cos we all are kinda blind to the familiar...
|Reviewed by jude forese
|a fleeting moment can be difficult to decipher from different angles yet its presence cannot be denied ...|
|Reviewed by Jacqueline Marshall
|I like the way you express truths in seeming simplicity, which is a challenge to do. JM|
|Reviewed by Tinka Boukes
|How easy to look past things we wish not to see until one day...just to realize you lost so much in life....but too late to regain it's power!!
Excellent piece Sis!!
|Reviewed by Miss Pandora
|How easy it is to lose sight of something by taking it for granted...a poignant reminder, cleverly penned. Panda :)|
|Reviewed by J M
|This is so well expressed.... :)|
|Reviewed by Joyce Bowling
|This is beautiful...makes me think about the old saying you never really appreciate something until it is gone. Very mystical words...I love it!
|Reviewed by Felix Perry
|You are so right, it is like a familiar old photo that hung on the wall of a grandparents house. When taken down and all that is left it the shading of the square we often cannot remember what was on the picture.
|Reviewed by Peter Paton
Now you see it, now you don't...like the camera shutters whirring in action, every picture tells a thousand stories....and every frame is completely different again...
Why...because everything is in transition, fluction and movement..
Nothing ever stays the same..:-)
Superb analytical write from your inquisitive mind..
|Reviewed by E T Waldron
|How deep your thoughts go Anita! This is so true of many types of things that have been passed over most times inadvertantly. Other times we forget what we were going to look into and it disappears as if never there. Splendid mind boggler;-)...Eileen|
|Reviewed by Lew Duffey
|You know something, Anita that was a beautiful way of looking back at what used to be. It does not always apply exactly as you write, though.
For Instance on Robinwood Drive and the Dual Highway in Hagerstown once set a beautiful old farmhouse. It left like it had blown away by a breeze. It did not leave an empty place, though. I sort of wished if it had to go it would have left the fields, quietly missing their friend. Before I even know the house was gone there was a shopping center setting there. My sister and her husband used to live in that old house.
|Reviewed by Sherry Heim
|How true your words are, Anita. We miss so much simply because it fills a familiar place for us. Just last weekend, I realized that I had completely forgotten thatn I had morning glorys growing in my courtyard until they dazzled me with their vibrant blooms. I think we do the same with people in our lives, we become so accustomed to them being in our world that we walk past them without noticing. I love this poem, it is one of those that just kind of smacks us between the eyes and reminds us that we, too, are guilty of not noticing so very much.
|Reviewed by Ed Matlack
|Talkin' about me when I am sleeping just ain't right...;) e|
|Reviewed by richard cederberg
|A good one Anita, clear and concise.
Almost universal in nature.
I guess the only justice in a situation like this would be photographs clearly delineating, from all directions, what used to be there.
Well done dear friend ...
Richard Lloyd Cederberg
|Reviewed by Victor Buhagiar (Reader)
|A concept that is so natural that it too is easily forgotten. Very deep poem. Victor|