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Thoughts
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Hunched over the dining room table
Reading glasses slid down his nose
Creating, he was, no fable
Crumbling, he was, his rose.
Aware only of his own rein
Eyes riveted unbent ahead
Her happiness he would feign
Only to restitute his stead.
Sprawling himself in her riches
His silhouette emboldened the light
Laying her in many ditches
Easily she lay down without fight.
He knew she knew
She knew he knew
That he could take
What was not his.
Hunched over the dining room table
Reading glasses slid down his nose
Creating, he was, no fable
Crumbling, he had, his rose.
c 2006
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R at AD
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| Reviewed by Sheila Roy |
10/2/2009 |
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So many times we use roses in our work, but you give them a new and creative meaning here. Dramatic imagery. Well done.
Sheila
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| Reviewed by OnepoetGem *the Poetic Rapper |
4/12/2007 |
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| this is a super poem Rose, hope it's fictional and maybe that rose might use a few thorns |
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| Reviewed by Larry Lounsbury |
1/15/2007 |
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| That is such a double play on scene. Is he a writer with his protaganist or a man awaiting his beautiful lady? |
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| Reviewed by Regis Auffray |
12/31/2006 |
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A soul-stirring write, Rosemarie; bittersweet and dark. Thank you. Happy New Year to you,
Regis |
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| Reviewed by Tinka Boukes |
12/27/2006 |
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Kimmy said it so well....touching piece!!
love Tinka |
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| Reviewed by Kimmy Van Kooten |
12/26/2006 |
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A poem filled with regrets to the deepest of form...
Great write!
Nice to meet you! :)
Love and Peace~
Kimmy~ |
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| Reviewed by Felix Perry |
12/26/2006 |
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Intense and mind working, as this semi-dark poem makes one wonder how the players got to this stage in their lifes and way of thinking.
Fee |
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