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Home > Axilea MU

Recent Reviews for Axilea MU

Glyph (Poetry) - 8/10/2014 5:04:24 AM

Simply-fire (Poetry) - 3/18/2014 2:44:28 PM
Beautiful imagery. Love it. Liz

Simply-fire (Poetry) - 3/8/2014 8:43:05 PM
Hey! I missed this one. The last line throws me off each time I read this. It seems so carelessly placed there. I got gloriously lost in all of those z's and soft rhymes and plays on words, that it caught me off guard. But then, that line is right on the money. We get so caught up in our own ideas of beauty, that we can't see the even larger miracles around us. And I need to send you a little thing my D wrote along the same vein that I think you'll like. So nice to read your poetry again. --charlie

Simply-fire (Poetry) - 12/6/2013 2:40:07 AM
surprising and unexpected use of words - that is poetry!

Simply-fire (Poetry) - 8/24/2013 3:17:47 PM is amazing how the inanimate can be viewed as animated when seen through the imaginative eye. love this.

Simply-fire (Poetry) - 8/13/2013 3:06:34 PM
Ah, love! Axilea you describe it so divinely, as it should be. May love and peace be always with you my dear friend. Jon Michael

Simply-fire (Poetry) - 8/12/2013 7:14:37 AM
Axilea, The art of love, forgetting what it felt like, and the exhilaration of the dance?? You are such a wordsmith! Always, Deborah

To Yourself (Poetry) - 8/2/2013 11:46:38 PM
this one just keeps on giving...keeps revealing...a gift of read and re-reads. nice!

Simply-fire (Poetry) - 8/2/2013 8:42:34 AM
VERY NICE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Liana Margiva

With Skin (Poetry) - 7/31/2013 3:11:56 PM
Such a thin membrane to face the world with. Because of our frailties we had to invent clothing. Also that shame thing passed down to us when we hid from Gods wrath. Our collective conscience would cringe in shame for our psychological nakedness; for if we knew the wrath of our Lord, our clothing would not be enough. Perhaps I'm reading more than was meant into your poem, but the skin can be read like a stratified record. It tells our age, what we have done and where we have been. The remnant of smiles rests in the subtle wrinkling around our eyes, the crink of light forehead lines tells of our laughter and our sadness. Excellent words here Axilea. Bob

Simply-fire (Poetry) - 7/31/2013 3:39:44 AM
wondeful imagery and words to lead us there budd

Simply-fire (Poetry) - 7/29/2013 6:24:54 AM
All I can gather is that this is about, “coming out.” Blue on blue can't be seen, so it becomes the perfect disguise that can be ignored because it isn't, “seen.” Ron

Simply-fire (Poetry) - 7/28/2013 6:37:25 PM
It's intriguing when people decorate there fireplaces with things that do not belong inside fireplaces, some psychologist probably has a theory on that but, to be free is wonderfully transforming

Simply-fire (Poetry) - 7/28/2013 6:14:29 PM
In the Spring time in the fields much is hidden that even butterflies would not dare to venture nor anyone else, you would hope, that would interrupt love.

In Transit (Poetry) - 7/27/2013 1:29:31 PM
the art of detachment, I hope for continued inspirational conversations for you. A unique write, interesting to read and fusional dreams I love. enjoyed much. ~ Morgan

In Transit (Poetry) - 7/26/2013 6:48:01 AM
yes keep it as is best budd

In Transit (Poetry) - 7/26/2013 3:21:31 AM
I wonder what it would be like if you were a psychiatrist?? After reading this I had a hunch you would be very perceptive in understanding people as we really are--not as we seem to be--LOL-well done--at least I can sleep at nights knowing you haven't figured me out completely-LOL

In Transit (Poetry) - 7/25/2013 1:32:28 PM
I must wonder what kind of conversation drew this work out? How beautiful the words flow from where a conversation left off and a dream like state followed.

In Transit (Poetry) - 7/25/2013 7:48:59 AM
Disassociation is the new norm as the 'plastic society' that I have always referred to them as being, and I note that Charlie too associates them with the same term. There or here and everywhere but nowhere when it comes time for accountability. They flow like an endless stream on the tides of good fortune and ebb when it is time to accept life's unpleasant details. Transient is more applicable as they exist in the fringes of society. Good to read your work again Axilea. May love and peace be always with you my dear friend. Jon Michael

In Transit (Poetry) - 7/24/2013 8:18:23 PM
I'm right in sync with you here, Axilea. There was a time when people primarily lived in places where they could really sink (sync?) down roots--feel the solidness and solidarity of earth beneath them and live among plants and animals where one could feel the perpetual spring of life and then death surrounding them as they stood pivotal center like a tree. I've experienced that. Felt the permanence of merely being. Now I live in a college town where my neighbors come and go in nine month increments--some less, some more. We live for/by/from/in plastic and paper containers. Use and toss. What ever happened to canning jars? Sealing wax? Rag rugs and seed-planted apple trees? But I am waxing long, and you say it all far better. --Charlie

In Transit (Poetry) - 7/24/2013 2:46:34 PM
A pleasing arrangement here Mu. The disconnectedness of the CITY. Possibly of the life we find ourselves in. Hard to feel near the earth when the constructs of civilization without harmony intrude. Personally I think you're getting at, even though you may not realize it, the shrinking and uninvolved worlds we tend to contract to. When our circle of flesh and blood acquaintances shrinks to only a few and the virtual population burgeons, do we not feel cut off and lonely in the heart? I like your expressions here. Bob

Unended (Poetry) - 7/21/2013 9:20:48 AM
a beautiful feeling to this. some things hold for moment and some things fall. excellent write. ~ Morgan

To Yourself (Poetry) - 7/20/2013 11:50:50 AM
I liked this poem a lot

Anima-L (Poetry) - 7/19/2013 4:55:17 AM
for me, the title's the key, the significance of the separated L; is spirit the vital separation from the (mere) animal, the distinguishing facility? yes, we are animals that write poetry and symphonies, build cathedrals and bridges...and wage terrible unnecessary wars 'where there is great achievement there is also great error' Pontius Pilate take good care, Axilea, john

Unended (Poetry) - 7/19/2013 4:51:25 AM
a study in the essential continuum "...structured lines happily fragmented.." ah yes, just the right phrasing and the right line break and it goes on and on good to read you, Axilea, a poet among so many bloggers and diary writers john

Unended (Poetry) - 7/18/2013 4:35:50 AM
Axilea, We see what is coming and yet keep silent as always... Always, Deborah

New Western Syntax (Poetry) - 7/9/2013 10:23:57 PM
The photo is the physical being of the words "the silence is deafening". The words bring me to tears as does the photo. I have one fortune cookie that made a lasting impression on me. It comes to mind with this photo, these words. I'm just paraphrasing but it went something like "If the eyes do not see it, how can the heart grieve for it." Lead to my Touch poem but my Touch doesn't touch this.

Anima-L (Poetry) - 7/9/2013 10:11:32 PM
Captured my containment of myself in your poem. Sometimes I feel alone, I embrace and I despise it. I know I'm not alone in feeling alone. Is there togetherness there. It is too late for me to be trying to be deep.

Unended (Poetry) - 7/9/2013 9:30:42 AM
much to read in these lines budd

Unended (Poetry) - 7/9/2013 9:07:47 AM
''Beating hearts with wings'',....''jasper birds whisper moments of holy singing past and present in the air breaking bars like broken rhymes'''.............. VERY BEAUTIFUL!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Liana Margiva

Unended (Poetry) - 7/8/2013 7:28:04 PM
ya gotta love the alliteration in these little fragmented pieces--"syncopated swallow's flight...skies sensitive grace - simple...simply suspended" and "just before the blue gold evening ... no longer afraid to fall..." woven inbetween all those sexy s's. It all does seem fragmented, but then again, I do believe that's the point of this whole piece, unended, and yet meaning something. We choose to sieze our own meanings and silence the words. Such a shame that we do that really, as much of the beauty of words is the way they sound, not just the meaning. That last strophe just echoes in my mind, as does the line(s) "undone sentences of strictly material jail". So I'll be true to myself--that is, I'll rebel and let the words rush on. Never mind the meaning. Here are some more lovely s's: susurrating sustenance fumbling in a purple stream... Who knows what that means? But to me, it sounds pretty. --Charlie

Unended (Poetry) - 7/8/2013 5:59:44 AM
My meager brain remains confused between the beauty of the swallow's flight and the Jasper bird's song, except that in the evening light, they return, unending. Ron

Unended (Poetry) - 7/7/2013 9:15:38 PM occlusion and substitution we penetrate the "thick pale texture above"... where falling leads to where there is the "apex of a" revelation as much as a "revolution" and "words unended" precede and are prescient of words upended... indeed, Ms. MU, all is not as it seems... and this is why we write... to keep it real... or so surreal that reality is sewn together with uninterrupted "moments of holy singing" and the "broken bars" to perpetually undo the "sentences of strictly material jail" and liberate the immaterial forever! (but this is just a cursory reading, and first impressions are not always what they seem ;) Roger

Unended (Poetry) - 7/7/2013 6:49:49 PM
My first thought was Stan is correct, he ain't right. How lovely you describe the freedom of flight. No rhyme intended..................LOL Walt

Unended (Poetry) - 7/7/2013 6:13:00 PM
Axilea this might sound crazy but the imediate image I had when i started reading your words/lines was that of that Asian,jet plane 777 going nose first into the ground..."Jasper birds whisper moments of holy singing" right before the impact " oh well i never claimed to be right in the head...

The Poet's Hand (Poetry) - 7/6/2013 6:33:55 PM
The hand of justice is firm like the handshake of a president. The hand of poetry can be like the hands of a pianist, long tapering fingers to light the torch of romance in your heart.

Anima-L (Poetry) - 6/22/2013 1:02:28 PM
how I'd like to reach some dimension beyond "your" walls We are all prisoners of our own perceptions and anima-ted dreams that are often as alien to us as our own animal understandings of our deeper, "unknown" selves. I've a short manuscript of character-study poems which I have titled WHO ZOO and maybe it's this resonance I feel with your urban landscape, peopled by those whose ability to reason and articulate may be curtailed by lack of shared language and utterance, whose lives are "barred" from each other by our/their own perceptions of being walled-in... or, indeed, locked out. This wrangles and jangles marvellously, Axilea, and as always I'm in deep admiration of how you are so bold with speculative concepts, allusion and ellipses of thought. I love your vivid expressions of what is often very difficult to conceptualise let alone give voice to. And, as always, your voice is your very own. Great stuff! :) xx

Anima-L (Poetry) - 6/9/2013 4:21:13 PM
Your words awaken thoughts and emotions, Axilea; most meaningful and expressive. Thank you for sharing. Love and best wishes to you, Regis

Anima-L (Poetry) - 6/3/2013 7:09:41 AM
Axilia, we are prisoners of our own making. The barriers we perceive are painted upon the backs of our eyes, nowhere else. We glance in the mirror to compare the image we view in comparison to the one painted in our psyche. We adjust the perception routinely out of human ignorance to ensure we do not stray from our self painted image. Thus the dream, and the inevitable absolute landscapes, always stretched to the vanishing point. May love and peace be always with you my dear friend. Jon Michael

Anima-L (Poetry) - 5/22/2013 3:59:48 PM
I enjoyed reading this-excellent thoughts

Anima-L (Poetry) - 5/21/2013 11:21:58 PM
Great poem. I love those crushed berries on the "urban stave", showing up all bloody against the black and white backdrop. There too are stripes all over--in the bars, in the zebra print, the cage, and I see the author as a crushed strawberry, perhaps a bleeding quarter note, shaking horizontal staff lines in a desperate attempt to bring to life a fading melody (dream?). Question: Does taping your thoughts to your legs help? Sounds intriguing. --Charlie

Anima-L (Poetry) - 5/19/2013 10:14:29 AM
Axilea, What is real and what is an illusion? Always, Deborah

Anima-L (Poetry) - 5/18/2013 2:06:03 PM
in visibility comes vulnerability, stretched tight, like a canvass of alienation, dabbed with just enough familiarity to breed a comfortable contempt of conformity where the raw, unmitigated realism of residence gives way to the turbid temerity of human bondage and the bone-crushing banality of terminological contracts whose fine print cancels all but the most obligatory familiarity until even the minutia is consumed by irony and the point is laid bare as the death mask of your strange animal. Your poem, Axilea, is the stuff of which legends are made. Excellence takes time, does it not? Roger

Anima-L (Poetry) - 5/18/2013 11:31:18 AM
Well written and much enjoyed Axilea :) Love and Light Lily

Anima-L (Poetry) - 5/17/2013 5:16:45 PM
The DNA Genome Project proved...we are not as far away from the...Genetic we'd like to think, but the ..."hand clasped on iron bars: No escape!"....why worry yourself...where is a will there is a way....Axilea. The existence in a Gigantic Hologram produced an inspiring, excellent poem!...proved...the objective reality does not exist. The illusion appears real. With warm regards Isabella.

Anima-L (Poetry) - 5/17/2013 12:23:58 PM
~Axilea~ Illusions..soul stretched to vanishing point. Excellent writing. Lady Mary Ann

Anima-L (Poetry) - 5/17/2013 8:58:05 AM
Your poem reeks of hopelessness and despair from being tied to that which you cannot escape. Your point is well taken and understood. Ron

Anima-L (Poetry) - 5/17/2013 8:01:11 AM
VERY NICE!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE IT!!!!!!!!!!! Liana Margiva

Anima-L (Poetry) - 5/17/2013 4:13:15 AM
In many ways we're not so far evolved from our animal ways in the real scope of things, which is it's ow self a paradox,and the few of us [poets] have the audacity to question the seemingly reality we exist/live in ...and so we pace on paper back and forth. Axilea I think you are the Queen of thought provoking poems,nice work.

Anima-L (Poetry) - 5/17/2013 2:11:47 AM
very well penned i enjoyed this budd

Anima-L (Poetry) - 5/16/2013 10:42:05 PM
What a dream you painted is nearly organized chaos orchestrated by the precise paintbrush you used. Absolutely fantastic, Axilea

Anima-L (Poetry) - 5/16/2013 4:09:00 PM
this reads like a unsettling dream, Captured in a zoo like existence. interesting and compelling!

Anima-L (Poetry) - 5/16/2013 2:55:31 PM
I like your work Axilea. This one paints clear images of a human mind seen from within by an alien entity. The only thing I don't like is the varying number of lines per verse, which I always find jarring and which distracts me from the vision of the poet. Of course, that's just personal taste! Still, few people of any sort create a vision so clear and so unique, forming a crystal window into the soul and imagination of the poet. I really like it!

Skylights (Poetry) - 5/11/2013 10:22:20 PM
There are light-voices in the sky. peace and light FAKHRE

Glyph (Poetry) - 3/17/2013 4:56:55 PM
Such apt usage of symbols and symbolism, such poetic musicality! Blessings, xx Christine

Glyph (Poetry) - 3/13/2013 10:38:57 PM
You have not lost your touch...this piece evokes emotions and images in the deepest curves of the skies above the clouds realm.

Private Light (Poetry) - 3/12/2013 3:21:01 PM
I had a critical career in the hospital on the day shift, I would pause and stop beside the Flint River in the heart of Georgia, to feel the power of the river, and for a few moments reflection on the coming day and my life as well. With coffee in hand I would sit on the hood of my car and maybe say a prayer that I wouldn't make a mistake and kill anyone today. This was always,of course in the dark. In summertime it was dawning, with just a few moments of shadowy moments left to myself. Enjoyed and related to this poem. Walt

The Poet's Hand (Poetry) - 3/11/2013 4:51:48 PM
Poets see the truth and God is a Poet too-well done

Glyph (Poetry) - 3/11/2013 7:54:11 AM
this one soars on outstretched wings

Glyph (Poetry) - 3/9/2013 2:03:03 PM
another powerful piece.

Glyph (Poetry) - 3/9/2013 11:44:22 AM
Nicely done again,Axilea....great visuals and flow..thanks

Glyph (Poetry) - 3/9/2013 9:07:37 AM
Axilea, the contributions of glyphs to the roots of myriad languages is a fascinating story within itself. My sense of your poem is that it alludes to those literary contributions and also wraps in the realm of human emotions enhanced by their application, love not the least of them. A refreshing perspective written with aplomb. I wish you love and peace my dear friend. Jon Michael

Glyph (Poetry) - 3/9/2013 8:20:17 AM
This is the kind of thinking and posturing of convictions that poetry readers need more of. Far too much posted material from other writers is of questionable worth, but this piece begs to be read often as a reminder of the complexity of the serious writer's need to work, rework, and then rework again the choice of words to express something, as you have, that is worth remembering. Thank you for the read.

Glyph (Poetry) - 3/9/2013 2:36:27 AM
EXCELLENT!!!!!!!!!!! ''...we bathe in sorrow''---- I LOVE THIS!!!!...''tears that carry away the ink of fading words''--- MOST TALENTED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Liana Margiva

Glyph (Poetry) - 3/8/2013 3:04:54 PM
Oh, but that's take now words, and turn them back into their essential meanings. That's the job of the writers of words. You're right (write?) it has been raining for far too long, where words become mere words, and have somehow lost their meanings. I believe there was a time--in the beginning--when there were worlds within words, and worlds were made by words, or by Word, not mere bywords of meaningless, selfish, androgynous mouth-gushings. The Wor(l)d-- a big bang? Maybe. One wor(l)d--a "sweet violence of purple sound". Your words are very creative, expounding upon soundings. And this creator said-- let there be a poem. And there was a poem. And it was good. --ChARliE

Glyph (Poetry) - 3/8/2013 2:31:02 PM
Raining, resistance fighters, a language, a link, in need. Many connotations implied...again a wonderful piece! Always, Deborah

Glyph (Poetry) - 3/8/2013 2:26:49 PM
Very powerful poem Axilea. So much power in words we release, then take up again and fold them back in on themselves. It's how we make meaning ofmouyr lives. ChipB

Glyph (Poetry) - 3/8/2013 9:47:49 AM
Your words give much to the reader, substance to reflect upon. This poem is worthy of much more than a single reading. Thank you, Axilea. Love and best wishes, Regis

Glyph (Poetry) - 3/8/2013 7:57:57 AM
I do not fully understand what you have written, but I enjoyed reading it for the way it's written, nonetheless. Ron

Glyph (Poetry) - 3/8/2013 6:56:43 AM
I love the line..."We are resistance fighters..." This is a powerfully written poem. Cheers, Dan

Glyph (Poetry) - 3/8/2013 4:41:14 AM
to me, Axilea, very good timing, highly appropriate for International Womens Day; 'glyph' is at the root of many creative processes, shaping materials and words, bringing ideas to - the favourite of the Art critics - 'resolved works' i especially like the call at the end john

Glyph (Poetry) - 3/7/2013 10:01:41 PM
"...resistance fighters redeeming signs of nearly erased memory that we have been recreating..." lovely lines ... so lovely they might be truer than true... brings to mind another old line from the Eagles "The Long Run": "We can handle some resistance, if our love is a strong one."... Is that part of the "holy sentiment" we are in need of? As we cry ourselves back "into the spring" we have to ask whether they or we or then ever really belongs to the now where the "old syntax [makes] sense" or whether there is a fresh rivulet being forged in the fearlessness of our forevermorning daybreaking over and over the edgy horizons in my auburnt bridges on whose engineered defeat I will never look back for fear of losing sight of what lies ahead beyond tomorrow's sun shadowing the dark side of your eyes as you pierce me til I bleed love with your penetrating gaze. Pardon me: it's just my "syntax making sense." Resonant write, Axilea!

New Western Syntax (Poetry) - 3/7/2013 7:46:55 PM
Axilea, you have captured the "organised chaos" of human emotions, reality (divided) and mind very well. When you move between West and East .......the surviving energy .......comes .......from "making sense to yourself"....... Thank you for sharing. Isabella

Glyph (Poetry) - 3/7/2013 6:00:53 PM
it does make sense in it's own way budd

New Western Syntax (Poetry) - 3/3/2013 12:46:40 PM
You have most effectively brought to my mind the chaotic nature of this world which seems to perpetually prevent peace from prevaling at last. Thank you, Axilea. Love and best wishes, Regis

The Poet's Hand (Poetry) - 2/22/2013 3:49:26 AM
''Is justice not already written, carved in our bones by the poet's hand?''----------I LOVE THIS!!!!!!!!!! Liana Margiva

New Western Syntax (Poetry) - 2/20/2013 8:18:21 AM
Women doing harm to their bodies, not seeing all that they carry with them. Having a false reading of who they are. Always, Deborah

New Western Syntax (Poetry) - 2/19/2013 7:21:39 AM
As if seen from a blood smudged window of a speeding Humvee, the chaotic world roiling as if caught in a perpetual sandstorm. Much to think about. Thank you.

To Yourself (Poetry) - 2/18/2013 6:04:36 AM
"behind silver railings I whisper,lie not to yourself" Its an eternal truth - seeking peace/love in silence ..good poem Axilea -Hira

New Western Syntax (Poetry) - 2/17/2013 7:41:44 AM
so many tragedies in the world that take place outside of the small cocoon that so many live in ~ You have captured so much here, you have such depth and heart. Christine xx

New Western Syntax (Poetry) - 2/17/2013 7:07:12 AM
Axilea, my sense of the photo is that of two jaded perspectives, though only one is wearing dark glass/blindfold. At this time I am unable to see a 'New Western Syntax', although I do see ever evolving western semantics. although semantics are constantly evolving, refining in most languages. From my sense it is the result of political correctness, a cheap term in my view for a license to overtly deceive. An art form which politicos practice and are adept at. Semantics naturally evolve yet are also forced to change as factors affecting human perception evolve with technology and thus an ever increasing need for new words to provide the apt descriptions. You have masterfully woven many subjects into your poem. A wide range of human emotions and sociopolitical inferences and even religious persuasion. I have enjoyed this work as it is stimulating. I wish you love and peace my dear friend. Jon Michael

New Western Syntax (Poetry) - 2/17/2013 4:32:00 AM
this surely spurred much thought among all that read it budd

New Western Syntax (Poetry) - 2/17/2013 12:45:56 AM
apart from the incisive lines themselves, Axilea, the generous (and, to me, deliberate) spacing between them encourages the reader to read between; since the images are pithy each reader will read in his or her particular way and conjure up the blanks that need follow; 'mother tongue eradicated' suggest much to me but i shan't elaborate; 'sacred goddess killed by anorexia' elicits strong response, too, and 'glossolalia of pain' is truly insightful but the poem is more than its parts, its impact is pronounced; there's a shift not just in economic weight but in cultural awareness and in human focus kudos! john

New Western Syntax (Poetry) - 2/16/2013 9:10:38 PM
Powerful poem, Axilea. Speaks to me of frustration and of exploding technology causing more problems rather than less, and anger, yes, and a very visceral pain. Chip BERGERON

New Western Syntax (Poetry) - 2/16/2013 10:50:15 AM
Without reading the others right now, I remain clueless as to your purpose to this poem. Upon your comment, I find that you have created a list of words that comes to mind. My mind? Maybe not. Contrary to Jerry in interpreting the image, but understanding from his previous work how he thinks, I would say that the blinders on the West come from our culture that thinks of itself as superior and therefore blind to the reality of most people in the East who are far more like us than different. By the same token, those from the East are often cloaked in their appearance by outside influences that control their every being except what can be seen in their eyes. Ron

New Western Syntax (Poetry) - 2/16/2013 8:21:33 AM
Thank you Charlie and Roger for finding your way through the maze (stream of consciousness) in such a vivid way. And many thanks to Jerry for exemplifying the last line of this "list of words". ;) Axilea

New Western Syntax (Poetry) - 2/16/2013 4:56:06 AM
I understand none of what your list of words mean. Well, I do to a point. You said, "the photo is a good one, but I don't want it to restrict the meaning of the poem." But the photo IS the poem as far as I am concerned. The east goes into battle with eyes wide open, looking ahead for the prize, while the west closes its eyes to the evil being perpetuated.

New Western Syntax (Poetry) - 2/15/2013 10:20:40 PM
I think every time I read this, I'll feel something different. Here's what's running through my mind right now: I am (and/or)we are bulimic consumers (and/or) pain devours and then regurgitates us. This is all done with words--thoughts, written, spoken, broken promises... (and/or) the ones we can't understand, even though our bodies/minds/souls are screaming them at us, killing us even. It is homicide! (and/or) cannibalism? --Charlie

New Western Syntax (Poetry) - 2/15/2013 6:51:00 PM
listening in runs contrary to (stereo)typical label(ia) in (fe)mystical thought as a jeremiadumbration of meaning (de)mystifies to (l)end clarity in a po(em)lemical of major proportions tunes its(elf) to the minor end of the pent-up-tonic scale... edgy and all too (sur)real... It's syncing in... Roger

New Western Syntax (Poetry) - 2/15/2013 6:29:44 PM
This is a great write Axilea, THis is open for many discussion. ~ Morgan

Grow (Poetry) - 2/14/2013 5:03:42 PM
Learning to project herself more and more... Deborah

Grow (Poetry) - 2/14/2013 4:21:35 PM
~Axilea~ To sing to the day.. true red motives of the heart. Beautifully captured ever to "Grow" Lady Mary Ann

Grow (Poetry) - 2/12/2013 1:08:01 PM
The underscoring of his paralysis as compounded by her vibrant pushing of the curtains to let in life, light, and her gesture, gesture, posture-ing is almost like religious ritual, mantra - as if their very (in)actions can bring about their competing desires. This is very finely articulated and sketched for us and the counter-tensions are absolutely palpable: such evenly-matched wills compete here in an almost psychotically compulsive way. I can so relate to this as a mind-game although you have given us such a well-defined visceral picture. Love: His character is barely alive on paper an inhabitant of dusty drawers Top drawer as always, Axilea! :) xx

Grow (Poetry) - 2/12/2013 1:05:33 AM
the woman realises her own strength and no longer under the chauvinist yoke opens the curtains to self-expression and self-assertion...that takes some doing for many women and for millions, especially on the continent where i live, it is impossible but there are small improvements, but only small a fine declaration, Axilea john ps: and yes i accept all credit cards!

Grow (Poetry) - 2/11/2013 3:35:01 PM
I love the way that you connect the woman and the speaker in the end...VERY artfully and heartfully done clever girl! I also like how you weaved in the geisha. So often women are bound. So often, without the ESCAPE!!! Blessings, Christine xx

Grow (Poetry) - 2/11/2013 11:49:02 AM
I sense a woman growing stronger and a man growing weaker. Or is it women and men? Ron

Grow (Poetry) - 2/11/2013 9:31:32 AM
very well penned control is its own judgement eventually budd

Grow (Poetry) - 2/11/2013 7:54:13 AM
what a lovely poem. i wrote a similar one years back called the passion paradox. growing pains are hard. it's difficult; but you find a way to accept things, and make some decisions that are good for you. she seems like she's on the brink--such is life.

Grow (Poetry) - 2/11/2013 7:34:53 AM
I like the small print for the word control -- guys that are controlling often have small minds and write very small.

Grow (Poetry) - 2/11/2013 12:11:55 AM
Reads like a scene from a movie I'd love to watch, sophisticated and beautifully written!

Grow (Poetry) - 2/10/2013 8:21:57 PM
oh well drawn, well-read, motive and all... brings to mind a dramatic monologue I'm sure you know and love: "My Last Duchess" by Robert Browning. Deliciously wrought... oh, you are in fine form with this one, Axilea.

To Yourself (Poetry) - 2/1/2013 12:39:05 PM
Brought a tear to my eyes and yet an even bigger smile, I felt every word...

Eidetic (Poetry) - 2/1/2013 12:37:18 PM
Truly beautiful and heartfelt!

With Skin (Poetry) - 1/16/2013 7:00:30 AM
Very interesting -- have you started to look deeper within- removed the shell and seen the real beauty- the contents is more valuable then the context. stan the alston x'perience

Eidetic (Poetry) - 1/10/2013 1:37:40 PM
reaffirmation of who we are, who our lover, loved one is - not unlike gazing into a mirror, yet recalling them ourselves, eidetic-ally. Perception of self is at times agonizing, yet always a useful tool to audit, who we are - a poem to initiate analysis and ponder what is revealed - an enjoyable read for Axilia- I wish you love and peace my dear friend - Jon Michael

Eidetic (Poetry) - 1/8/2013 6:16:40 PM
Faded love and the photo memories to bring it all back ... And so palpably!

Eidetic (Poetry) - 1/7/2013 11:04:41 AM
You have taught me a new word, Axilea: eidetic. Thank you. And thank you also for sharing this expressive offering of love. I am painfully aware of what love gone astray feels like right now. Love and best wishes to you, Regis

Eidetic (Poetry) - 1/6/2013 7:35:33 PM
The thing is there are more reasons for sadness than lost romance, and in one way or other they hit us all. You have therefore written a poem that just about everybody cabn identify with, Axilea. Thank you so much.... Chip Bergeron

Eidetic (Poetry) - 1/6/2013 10:28:41 AM
I'm with Christine on this one. I read it various times, and could never tell whether you were talking to the reader, a well or once-loved relative, a lover or your old or new self. Any how you read it, the conclusion in warm and embracing, repentant, forgiving, all-inclusive, understanding and well, loving. --Charlie

Eidetic (Poetry) - 1/5/2013 1:02:04 PM
Such a clever poem, Axilea, and amazingly, one that can be read in a number of different ways. Starkly different meanings... and yet one and the same whether I read it as a woman who is talking to her past lover, or whether I read it as a woman who is looking in the mirror, or perhaps even a picture of her former self...Clever girl! So profound. Blessings, Christine

To Yourself (Poetry) - 1/5/2013 9:06:18 AM
self perception is a fascinating subject - the id and ego dancing cheek to cheek or gyrating in an ancient war dance - self esteem is indeed cognitive to a degree, the trick is to effectively assess our innate abilities with the person we are attempting to project ourselves to be - a powerful force acts upon these personality issues, love - for it is the most powerful an arguably the most important of all values and emotions - so it is vital to be, "To Yourself" true - another tantalizing poem to be enjoyed Axilia - I wish you love and peace my dear friend, Jon Michael

(1000 miles) Away (Poetry) - 1/5/2013 8:28:36 AM
The details of a life! The things we accumulate and discard in our journey through life. Best wishes ken

Eidetic (Poetry) - 1/5/2013 5:36:02 AM
Love washes over you like a warm shower, in this delightful love poem.

With Skin (Poetry) - 1/5/2013 4:39:17 AM
here's mature self-awareness in both thought and articulation and not frivolous self-consciousness.. f s-c would be so easy given the theme but your work, Axilea, is way above that - serious without being pedantic or heaven forbid - preachy! not just the poet but the reader feels this, this intimate skin, our largest organ, our complete blanket excellent poem john

Eidetic (Poetry) - 1/5/2013 4:35:11 AM
allow it as it washes over you budd

To Yourself (Poetry) - 1/4/2013 9:45:43 PM
There's a twist of the shaman about this poem. The understated comments like "I'm only holding the universe in my hands" and "I'm not doing much but..." And the ending is chilling, "behind silver railings I whisper lie not to yourself". It makes you wonder what part is the lie? That about the "you" not doing much? or that about fear is stronger than love? or the wasted life ending? or holding the universe in your hands? I like the juxtaposition between "dark red seconds of eternal dreams" and "songs and words in chipped tea cups". And ya gotta love that inner rhyme in "antidote against narrow scope" which in itself seems like the kind of mantra that one poetic-minded individual might mutter to himslef as a little antidote against small-mindedness. And I think "silver" was the perfect modifier for those railings in your last lines. It's such a cold and prophetic--sounding word with that hiss and vibrating "v"--the color of witches, moonlight, money and ethereal hoverings. Two thumbs up from me. --Charlie

With Skin (Poetry) - 1/3/2013 6:25:08 PM
It's magic the parts which make us. An interesting poem.

To Yourself (Poetry) - 1/3/2013 8:57:20 AM
This was an absolutely powerful piece of poetry...Love it! Cheers, Dan

To Yourself (Poetry) - 1/2/2013 2:07:21 PM
maybe I’m not doing much but I’m holding the love I was given in dark red seconds of eternal dreams in songs and words and chipped teacups ... there's such an irony here, Axilea, a pathos, maybe. Certainly more than a match for Blake's "world in a grain of sand". I love the candid, telling detail - almost Plath-like - which, although deftly sparse is absolutely vibrant with visual and emotional energy. That final couplet is chilling with self-knowledge which, coupled with the "walled up bullet in an empty room", makes for a soberingly stark conclusion. Your work continues to strengthen in its concision and fine-tuning whilst wringing to the utmost the weight and worth of every well-chosen word. You deliver your thoughts here with razor-sharp precision and potent emotional accuracy. Am greatly looking forward to more in 2013: all the very best in the coming year. xx

To Yourself (Poetry) - 1/2/2013 10:42:55 AM
it builds and builds...then...your hearts stops at the lines: you, walled up...finally...the whisper *almost* brings you back to earth--at least you can breath again

To Yourself (Poetry) - 1/1/2013 1:21:39 PM
This is completely captivating to the very last word. one of my favorites of yours!

To Yourself (Poetry) - 1/1/2013 7:21:21 AM
lOVE IT, Thanks Axilea, have a great new year and beyond.

To Yourself (Poetry) - 12/30/2012 7:11:20 PM
Brilliant! Such deeply human poetry and just stunning! Blessings to you xo Christine

To Yourself (Poetry) - 12/30/2012 6:02:08 PM
this piece has much to say and gives itself to many reading to find it all budd

To Yourself (Poetry) - 12/30/2012 11:00:10 AM
This is fine poetry, Axilea; thought-provoking and seemingly universal and eternal in theme expressed. Thank you. Love and best wishes to you, Regis

To Yourself (Poetry) - 12/30/2012 10:20:10 AM
A lot was delivered within the lines of this masterpiece, Axilea, and I mean big time. Speaking as a reader and an admirer of your work, I can honestly say this this is one, if not the, best I have been privileged to consume. You begin with a crooked smile and before the last line, "lie not to yourself," you have covered enough of life's finery and devilment that it would take a full semester to nit-pick and discover the poem's not so subtle essence. It's all there. The universe in your hands . . .

To Yourself (Poetry) - 12/30/2012 9:51:20 AM
In this, we see a haunting echo of humanity, a fleeting connection of ephemeral to eternal in the essence of strength made stronger by its weakness expressed in vulnerable invulnerability... another exquisite piece of poetry, Axilea... Happy New Year! Roger

With Skin (Poetry) - 12/30/2012 9:38:31 AM
Tantalising and seductive, Axilea, presenting this most intimate and beautiful of connective tissue in all its inside/outside glory. 'Tis truly one of the most wondrous substances of which we are made, coming together (as it does) in so many forms, colours and translucencies. A worthy celebration, extolling the virtues up-close and personal. What I like most is the way this skin-portrait breathes through its own pores, challenging the reader to look beyond the "skin-deep" -thing and to realise just how much it feels, thinks, acts for itself and uniquely. So, in answer to your question: please inhabit it to the full and continue to revel in its remarkable properties and life-giving bloom. xx

With Skin (Poetry) - 12/27/2012 11:18:26 PM
Extraordinary poetry. Such an outstanding concept. Covered head to toe. You're born with it. . .so in the end the scars of life are recorded on it. I like the way you put your question mark. They roll and flow one into the next. Excellent! db

With Skin (Poetry) - 12/27/2012 5:42:52 PM
Amazing, it is! Skin, our largest organ, so taken for granted; but just imagine life without it! We humans have pretty vulnerable encasements; we have to rely on our wits to protect ourselves from all sorts of dangers. I'm reminded of what we used to call "skin eggs". (I was raised on an egg farm.) Close to molting time, chickens sometimes lay eggs without the shells. Through the thick skin, you can actually see the yolk swimming around in its liquid sack-- pretty cool, but it always did remind me how like those eggs we are--okay, a little less opaque-- I mean, it's not like we can actually see our heart and lungs through our seven layers, but one stab, and we're pierced; our liquid gushes out. The shell, it's the egg's bone, worn on the outside, giving structure, protection, etc. So there you have it, we're inside-out eggs, every one of us. So we should never be offended when those egg-headed males call us "chicks"! See, that just means we made it out of our shells without breaking. --Charlie

With Skin (Poetry) - 12/26/2012 12:15:04 PM
interesting how we let some get under our skin, while others make it crawl... and if beauty is only skin deep, we are glibly dismissive of the overly superficial veneer others might parade about in. Nonetheless, your poem, with its rich imagery and rare redolent rush of blood, just beneath the surface of our radiant blanket of bluster and blush, ... your poem, I say, probes to caress the contours of our craniums in a crush of skin on skin entanglement that permeates the plush pallor of our lithe, supple skinetic lives in a waterfall of somatic words... well done, as usual, Axiliea... (and don't be too hard on dear Odin, sweets! He was probably just trying to give you the skinny on your poem in his customarily loquacious way)... ha! I'm one to talk, aren't I... ;) the way... I just got the play on words infused 'within' your title! Now I'll have to read it all over again to uncover all the hidden meanings... kind of like a palm reading? eh? Never know what I'll uncover 'with skin'... Lovely write, darling. Roger

With Skin (Poetry) - 12/26/2012 10:08:50 AM
I just sat back and enjoyed the poem

With Skin (Poetry) - 12/26/2012 5:57:54 AM
skin aside, it is the structure of this poem that fascinates me...three times the author asks an impossible question to herself, each time drawing the reader deeper into the issue. at last--the question is turned directly to the reader, creating a sense of intimacy that only a perfect poem can achieve.

With Skin (Poetry) - 12/25/2012 6:20:39 PM
I want you to be comfortable in it!!! Chip Bergeron

With Skin (Poetry) - 12/25/2012 6:06:25 PM
you live this life within it is all you can do and cherish every moment we have budd

With Skin (Poetry) - 12/25/2012 5:55:47 PM
Dear Axilea MU, I understand you very well, I had the same stuff with my skin, But I learned during the years that everything changes. You put it very well. Love Emile

With Skin (Poetry) - 12/25/2012 5:45:04 PM
Well, abandon SKIN. Therein rests the essence of your piece. It is VERY arguable that the flesh constitutes far too much of our consideration. Not to denigrate the enjoyment and completely natural value of the flesh, BUT, only the unconscious would give it the kind of credence it now enjoys. Balance of the inner vs the outer is is vicious conflict globally. Would that our world society could spend a balanced modicum of time with both. Until that takes place, can we afford to spend so much time concerned with the shortfall of "skin's" achievements? Many would think not.

Porthole (Poetry) - 12/21/2012 8:33:50 AM
Never ephemeral are your deeply considered words, Axilea. Here you lay them lightly yet carrying so much weight and meaning that settle brilliantly on our minds - and mind's eye. Almost like a prayer, a spell, a mystical experience of altered consciousness which leaves us changed like the moment of waking dream. I feel a sense of questing, journey, restlessness here and the physical experience reminds me of fitful sleep where, tossing and turning (like in your imagined seas), you alternately kick the covers off and pull them on again - just when the winds of dreams and their "throbbing blue ink veins" cool the skin producing a sudden membrane between the two conscious states. Excellently understated and elliptical as always. With my love and seasons greetings. xx

Porthole (Poetry) - 12/20/2012 7:44:45 PM
Wow, Axilea! I'm still shivering with wonder, chill, and awe. I love the whole concept of being a recovered "island in a sea of ephemera". Great use of "cover" throughout, from cover-uncover-discover, and later, recover. I love the word "plainsong" unseparated, and the play on vain and vein. I imagined every wind its own breath, breathing across my skin, and started shivering. Every word spoken/breathed/written/muttered is another droplet in that ephemeral sea-- a wounded sigh unwound, wending its way to wind around something--unwound itself somehow in its own wind...waxing wordy... And finally, the ending lands and sticks permanently. Great conclusion. Thanks for sharing the porthole with us all. --Charlie

Porthole (Poetry) - 12/16/2012 4:02:26 AM
that awakening on a cold livid skin conjures the harshness and yet the essential truth of what is, things as they are must always reign after all else has beeen covered, uncovered, discovered and recovered; an island once - does it ever become the mainland? i love this poem, Axilea, and it's a joy to see you posting again after so long john

Porthole (Poetry) - 12/13/2012 7:13:47 PM
Our journey, life, viewed through a porthole; of course. I mark your return after a long absence and note that it is a fitting one. Spirits on a journey through space and time, human figures, bodies a life form. Breath condensing on the porthole of a common dream is interesting. I wish you love and peace my dear friend. Jon Michael

Porthole (Poetry) - 12/13/2012 5:59:01 PM
Wow, Axilea - this is absolutely beautiful! I wish I'd written it. I love it. I connect to it - every word and the spaces between. THIS is the reason I missed the den. THIS is what inspires me to create at my highest and most authentic level. A new favorite.

Porthole (Poetry) - 12/13/2012 3:25:30 PM
What a dreamy and brilliant rendition of life's journey! Blessings, xo Christine

Porthole (Poetry) - 12/13/2012 12:14:21 PM
It would be an honor and a pleasure to be sharing that porthole with you, Axilea; actually, I have just done that by reading your verses. Thank you for sharing this gift. Love and best wishes to you, Regis

Porthole (Poetry) - 12/13/2012 8:57:22 AM
a common dream is the perfect porthole for "the throbbing blue ink vein" to express itself through "the vivid contrast of pleasure and ache of heart and day .... warm protection indeed ...

Porthole (Poetry) - 12/13/2012 8:14:52 AM
Remarkably evocative. The allegorical inferences are palpable (fortunately), adding to the impact. I once had a significant other who was both a ballet dancer AND a poetess. Wow! What a synergy! Speaking as a sea wave, I've always loved portholes... Cheers, -K.

Porthole (Poetry) - 12/13/2012 4:47:19 AM
How did you do that? brilliant....!

Porthole (Poetry) - 12/13/2012 4:04:53 AM
a so deep wonderful play on the words you chose budd

Porthole (Poetry) - 12/13/2012 2:27:36 AM
We should all have such a porthole, Axilea, to reflect our warmth and love. Heart-stopping poetry.

The Poet's Hand (Poetry) - 11/17/2012 11:11:30 AM
E x a c t l y . r i g h t.

The Elliptic Shock (Poetry) - 9/10/2012 4:10:09 AM
Very Electric!~ You can feel it shocking, with increased voltage as you read along.. Nicly written

The Poet's Hand (Poetry) - 9/2/2012 7:50:22 PM
absolute truth is the pursuit of many, poets included - yet only poets appear to posses a lust to express it in cryptic, absolute terms - being the anomalous lot that we are is perhaps reason enough to explain the exigency that seems to drive us to that goal - interesting, introspective rendering Axilia - I wish you love and peace my dear friend - Jon Michael

The Poet's Hand (Poetry) - 8/29/2012 4:45:02 PM
Axilea, Beautiful, a poets hand has many sides. Love this! Many blessings, +Linda

The Poet's Hand (Poetry) - 8/29/2012 4:03:32 PM
Yes! This is marvelous and resonant,and I'm going to miss you! Don't be away long, Blessings xx Christine

Revoiced (Poetry) - 8/26/2012 5:05:23 PM
Beautiful imagery,and words that tug at the soul- Barbara J Henry

The Poet's Hand (Poetry) - 8/25/2012 3:57:02 PM
Carvings by the hand of a poet, on display from the heart~

The Poet's Hand (Poetry) - 8/24/2012 5:23:46 PM
So are we considering the politics of poetry or the poetry of politics - or both? And yet, this reminds me of the ebb and flow of the countervailing forces of the Tree of Life. Neat write Axilea.

The Poet's Hand (Poetry) - 8/24/2012 7:38:07 AM
Like a passage of gravitas that Socrates may have thought as he waited for the Hemlock to take effect... always smiling, they say. Even his last request to Crito was with his habitual nature of fairness and justice: "Crito, we owe a cock to Asclepius. Do pay it. Don't forget." As usual, your work offers a surface contemplation of the deeper sub text. Thank for posting.

The Poet's Hand (Poetry) - 8/24/2012 7:21:15 AM
I don't find much poetic justice. Justice is blind and controlled by corrupt lawyers. Poets see the truth and reveal it to the dismay of justice. Ron

The Poet's Hand (Poetry) - 8/24/2012 6:09:05 AM
Soft and wondering, and well, wonderful. Answer-- yes, I believe it is. I think there's an ethics code written in us all, so that we know when we've done wrong. Why else would we feel guilty? I like to think that God is a Poet--food for thought, and I love it. --Charlie

The Poet's Hand (Poetry) - 8/24/2012 5:50:31 AM
Poetry is a type of therapy for some...we,poets envoke everyday going on's into our writings and those who read take what they need off that page and carry it with them. Enjoyed throughly,Axilea! Deborah

The Poet's Hand (Poetry) - 8/24/2012 5:33:45 AM
Axilea ~ Exceptional poetry ~ carved in our bones by the poet's hand. Lady Mary Ann

The Poet's Hand (Poetry) - 8/24/2012 4:50:42 AM
This poem is inspired and inspirational in a humanitarian sense... good solid imagery and sense to convey the need for rootedness in a rootless, shiftless sandstorm of an Age... hope your travel adventures are exciting (but not too much) and enjoyable in the extreme! Good to see you back here at AD. See ya. Roger

The Poet's Hand (Poetry) - 8/24/2012 4:24:25 AM
I love it... short and sweet,...........that, I feel it in my bones...good work

The Poet's Hand (Poetry) - 8/24/2012 4:14:48 AM
Justice by another name is inconsistency. Poets are moved by their so-called Muses, and sometimes, according to events happening in the poet's lives the Muse will aid and abet a poetical misuse of the word flow. Does justice, or rather maybe karma lurking in the shadows and will brand you with their version of justice?

The Poet's Hand (Poetry) - 8/24/2012 4:13:24 AM
self sustaining, to live and die by the s.word we wield,.. enjoyed your blend of moral equation,come earth and wind.. nice piece, luka

The Poet's Hand (Poetry) - 8/24/2012 4:03:13 AM
There exists an inner yearning within poets to find, recognize and express truth. This piece alludes to that place and is self descriptive of this partiular author. Good job.

Revoiced (Poetry) - 8/21/2012 2:15:39 PM
Absolutely stunning. Wonderful emotion and ambiance.

Revoiced (Poetry) - 8/21/2012 9:49:06 AM
Oh my, you absorbed me in this one, peacful beauty that awakens the soul..truly exquisite!

Revoiced (Poetry) - 8/20/2012 2:14:33 PM
Just LOVE this poem, Axilea and especially all the ideas and images in that final stanza. "we'll tear this quiet blanket" in relation to silence is totally divine! Wish I wrote it! :)) xx

Revoiced (Poetry) - 8/19/2012 9:24:53 AM
Axilea, I have always loved your romantic style and this is an excellent piece with so many visuals that I can enjoin and engage in. Amor

Slowly (Poetry) - 8/17/2012 3:46:22 PM
A profound rendering of the maxim: that which we resist always persists. I wonder, however, if the "trap" you posit here is not another word for "being taught" the lesson the narrative must learn before he or she can move on?

Mother Paranoid (Poetry) - 8/17/2012 3:42:25 PM
Obvious to me is the poets desire to lift the reader from the obvious perception of all that is deemed worthy of caution is not paranoia. There is an invitation here to explore the liquidity and ethereal nature of perception, i.e., most is not what it seems to be no matter how fastidiously we try to analyze. Sadly, far too many people never seem to venture beyond the obvious.

Revoiced (Poetry) - 8/17/2012 3:19:03 PM
As many poets avoid personification, it is indeed a pleasure to read a piece where the narrative focus, through the clever personification, leaves open a rather intriguing enigma. Certainly not as simple as "emotion" and indubitably beyond "intellectual exercise." Perhaps it is arguably the essence of living you proffer here? (Being one who embraced the abstract and relishes the oblique, and editing and proofing books for a living, I couldn't let my comments slip into the mundane and pedestrian as some comments might suggest of this work.) More than just words arresting response... which is poetry's only desire.

Revoiced (Poetry) - 8/17/2012 8:03:50 AM
love is pure emotion that speaks from within itself ... the imagery and ambiance of your poem is totally captivating, capturing a wonderful moment ...

Revoiced (Poetry) - 8/16/2012 7:21:54 AM
had to share this one with my wife...

Revoiced (Poetry) - 8/15/2012 7:58:28 PM
Hi Axilea! You have penned an outstanding "definition" of Revoiced, one that has the reader melting the more he/she reads. Thank you for sharing this. Excellent! In Spirit, Bear

Revoiced (Poetry) - 8/15/2012 10:38:29 AM
Enchanting words you write. I so wish that I could do the same. Ron

Revoiced (Poetry) - 8/15/2012 9:47:41 AM
This by far is 'your' best work yet Axilea,just beautifully worded w/words that are thought provoking and touch on memories of where no words needed to be spoken. Deborah

Revoiced (Poetry) - 8/15/2012 6:00:31 AM
Axilea ~ Where the wind whispers freely and silence captures the heart. Unique and beautiful walk in poetry. Lady Mary Ann

Revoiced (Poetry) - 8/15/2012 4:31:48 AM
wow, this resonates from the soul , great work

Revoiced (Poetry) - 8/15/2012 4:07:05 AM
i don't know why exactly but the Loire Valley comes to mind - must be the mention of 'ageless French stone'; i'm probably way wide of the mark; seems to me, Axilea, here's experience born in holiday with the air of relaxation and superior communication and the atmosphere of honeymoon, second honeymoon? i'm rambling, forgive me, but i do love the atmosphere generated by your words john

Revoiced (Poetry) - 8/15/2012 2:51:21 AM
there is a time for everything...a time to speak and a time to be silent. both 'times' are very valuable. thanks for share asa

Revoiced (Poetry) - 8/14/2012 9:54:17 PM
I think so many times we get hemmed in by technology, media, noise-- how can we hear/feel/be inspiration? In the silence, we can hear what we otherwise cannot. Ears wide open-- inner eyes wide open-- no distractions, now buzzing, busy, schedule-ridden bodies and busses-- just you and the cosmos. And did you ever feel such love between people as when you were silently together, dreaming of eternal things? --Charlie

Revoiced (Poetry) - 8/14/2012 9:17:16 PM
Such lovely poetry, Axilea, simply stunning verse after verse. Peace, love and light, Amber

Revoiced (Poetry) - 8/14/2012 8:01:12 PM
Your words speak volumes. Your voice - unstoppable I love the second stanza. Superb!!

Revoiced (Poetry) - 8/14/2012 6:27:40 PM
a beautiful connection.

Revoiced (Poetry) - 8/14/2012 6:09:54 PM
nuptial vowels voiced" or the promises of commitment and conduct "revoiced" or renegotiated as in the challenges from,'Survanta' - either way the implications hold the same values and wend from forced abstinence to the unintentional - all on the verge of reconciliation or, perhaps ceding to make amends on the wings of a lark - rich description of the venue, and events Axilea - enjoyable reading - I wish you love and peace my dear friend - Jon Michael

Revoiced (Poetry) - 8/14/2012 2:59:09 PM
wonderful write Axilea budd

Revoiced (Poetry) - 8/14/2012 2:56:26 PM
WoW! This poem is all simplicity and love and nature and love and forgiving and being forgiven and love "willingly, we’ll tear this quiet blanket." I was so taken with this poem, my friend.

(1000 miles) Away (Poetry) - 8/14/2012 3:48:48 AM
Well done indeed. Much depth in each line. Freed from the grip of gluey dregs...Finality prevails......Unequaled from beginning to end... Sandy

Rolling Cylinder (Poetry) - 8/8/2012 2:54:10 AM
i love this exploration of connectivity, Axilea, in the simplest everyday things there is link and communality, even communion; your final stanza is, for me, as close to perfection as a poet can get; sorry i'm late getting here but so much has been going on my best to you always john

Rolling Cylinder (Poetry) - 8/6/2012 12:32:22 PM
I love what your travels have brought back with you here, Axilea. Your psyche is just loving it, I can tell, and it adds yet more wonderful richness to your depth and style of writing. Yes, I think we travel the world in search not of our differences and losses in time and space, but to gain from what remains in legacy, and in discovery of our ties and similarities; missing pieces of the jigsaw of our own DNA. To be fearless and open-minded as a globe-trotter enables us to be all people at all times and to return with our selves augmented and enlightened. Love the telling details of people, place, emotion and meaning here. Unique storytelling in your unmistakeable voice as always; you are always the unraveller of secrets. xx

Rolling Cylinder (Poetry) - 8/4/2012 11:52:25 AM
Profound. Your poetry is always a mesmerizing journey through the undertow of emotions and life. Always a joy. Liz

Rolling Cylinder (Poetry) - 8/3/2012 6:37:05 AM
Sometimes it feels as if time fold back on itself. A poem of deep thoughts, well penned.

Rolling Cylinder (Poetry) - 8/2/2012 4:54:56 PM
there is something to be said for the luxury of tea and sympathy. So nice to read this posting of yours. Glad you had a nice break.

Rolling Cylinder (Poetry) - 8/2/2012 11:06:35 AM
Sublime and emotionally resonant! The questions draw me in and leave me feeling the poem all the more. Blessings, xx Christine

Rolling Cylinder (Poetry) - 8/2/2012 4:36:54 AM
Have you read Shannon Hale's Goose Girl series? Okay, they're fairy tales, but in them, the girls speak the languages of the wind, water, fire and trees. Imagine if you could understand the language of the past--the language of the sea-- of a specific wall--so that it's not just "if walls could talk", but that they actually do; it's a matter of just hearing clearly what they all have to say. Then, you could row out in a boat to the middle of the sea, and hear its ballads and write them down, translating all those ancient songs into modern languages--all of them you speak, from the language of the deep. But in a way, that's what poets do. --Charlie

Rolling Cylinder (Poetry) - 8/1/2012 9:40:06 AM
we will always search to understand better...always follow patterns and learn more...always 'connect' or 'disconnet'. it is what we do. it is a part of living and give us (as our den poet, susie palmer says) 'meaning'. thanks asa

Rolling Cylinder (Poetry) - 8/1/2012 9:36:33 AM
All I can discern from this is that the rolling cylinder is time and the cemetery signifies going back to see the past's connection the present. Ron

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