Ever since I was a child
that land had been there.
It watched me grow up,
and out of love,
never changed,
staying the same
so I could remember
what my life had once been.
But this summer,
instead of an endless sea of green,
that grass was burned
dead black.
Then houses moved in,
one by one,
like pale wood skeletons
being churned out of the earth.
Was it worth it.
The price of my innocence
for condominiums
and half acre plots.
Oh how I feel this deeply! You have expressed so well the beauty of the land that we are losing every day!
Excellent!
Reindeer
Reviewed by La Belle Rouge (Reader)
Reviewed on March 19, 2003
No not worth it at all and this is a wonderful poem.
Reviewed by uninsane
Reviewed on March 18, 2003
Perhaps the land was in it's entirety sacrificed for you alone to see. I forgot to add this, but do so a second time around for you to consider. Take care,
RoR
Reviewed by Lady Peg (Reader)
Reviewed on March 18, 2003
Jason, Paradise is theere just ahead this is excellent.
Thankyou
Peg
Robin Ouzman Hislop's poetry is certainly in dialogue with some of the key architects of the 'poetics of indeterminacy' – both the Modernist strands represented by the likes of Beckett and Stein, and the postmodernist strands represented, initially,
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Excellent!
Reindeer
RoR
Thankyou
Peg
The Author has all the tools that aunt Erato likes. I am certain the she will take good care of this talented and wise Author.
I Salute You Author Jason Wise.
Never rest Your pen; don't let Your quills dry.
Long healthy life.
Andre Emmanuel Bendavi ben-YEHU
Thoughtful poem.
~E