|Reviewed by Sandy Hoynacki (Reader)
|I loved walking through this maze of looking glass rememberings..You have penned this beautifully....|
|Reviewed by Elizabeth Price
|What a beautiful and insightful glimpse into your soul. Love it. Liz|
|Reviewed by Jon Willey
|Axilea, "Sleeping Rooms" are sanctuaries for "mo(u)rning" and the captive halls of sleepless trysts -- the "intruders that look for warmth to escape their frozen core" is a masterfully created metaphor -- remorse and longing are the bed sheets blanketing longing and desire -- this is exciting work that probes at melancholy -- your verbiage conducts a symphony of emotions -- I bid you joy love and peace my dear friend -- Jon Michael|
|Reviewed by Regis Auffray
|Your verses enchant the soul and the imagination so effectively, Axilea. Thank you for sharing this gift. Love and best wishes,
|Reviewed by jude forese
|the way you juxtapose your images is indeed unique, and the design of your thoughts overwhelmingly intriguing ...|
|Reviewed by D. Vaineo
|Axilea, Again, I read one of your astonishing poems...
|Reviewed by Christine Tsen
|A profound and poignant choice of words ~
|Reviewed by Chip Bergeron
|Soulful and evocative...
|Reviewed by William Bonilla
|Excellent write Enjoyable reading
Love & peace be with you
|Reviewed by Gene Williamson
|Axilea, your marvelous talent
thrives on sleepless nights...
|Reviewed by Christine Alwin
|In the night of dreams..and the struggle to get there as the mind so fights sleep...but oh, how when it finally does it takes us away :)
|Reviewed by Liana Margiva
|BEAUTIFUL!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ...'morning raindrops remind of past mourning'-----EXCELLENT!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE THIS!!!!!!!!!!!! Liana Margiva|
|Reviewed by John Flanagan
|For me, Axilea, a series of droplets here
and i'm feeling the rain between each;
how does sleep come if it comes at all
and then what does morning offer or bring?
|Reviewed by Felix Perry
|Reviewed by Charlie
|Awesome, and so... YOU. Love the play on morning/mourning. All in all, these are "heavy" ku's that really speek to me.
Little bird tracks on my mind,
a sandy, silent lullaby. --Charlie
|Reviewed by Alan Abrams
|who holds the key to the lock?
|Reviewed by Kate Burnside
|... this is the kind of sleep that is both stoutly resisted and yet yearned for, Axilea - a longed for place of sustenance (books), solidity - and dreams. Funny how light finds us in darkness. And how mo(u)rning can be both a relief and unwanted friend. Always a pleasure to indulge in your matrices of the mind and hungers of the human soul. xx|