Molting (poem) by Jon Michael Willey on AuthorsDen

Reviewed by Gerard Gauthier (Reader)

Reviewed on October 30, 2008

Jon this poem takes me in so many directions, especially forward. Why do we have to change to accommodate life? Time should find me static, happy, unwilling to sacrifice for the next moments...Great read Jon

Reviewed by Chantilly Lace (Reader)

Reviewed on October 28, 2008

Wow,what great writing...I must say this is truly amazing....powerful very powerful indeed sweet man....be well and always safe...HUgss....check your E-Mail I sent you a message OK...keep smiling...

Reviewed by Karen Palumbo

Reviewed on October 27, 2008

Simply an amazing, in depth write filled with such detailed imagination, well written..

Be always safe,
Karen

Reviewed by E T Waldron

Reviewed on October 27, 2008

Superb dark poem Jon! One that is serious and powerful in what it queries! We exist in the duality of life and death,,, Also great for halloween when all the demons of the mind parade as, ghouls and goblins etc...

Love,
ET

Reviewed by Regis Auffray

Reviewed on October 27, 2008

Thank you for sharing this symbolic protrayal of life and seasons and passing time, Jon. Nicely done indeed! Love and peace to you,

Regis

Reviewed by Gene Williamson

Reviewed on October 27, 2008

CAN DEATH AND LIFE COEXIST...?
It does, Jon, in this remarkable poem?
-gene.

Reviewed by Christine Alwin

Reviewed on October 27, 2008

....shedding of life anew,,, could you send me more of your thoughts on this,, as my head is spinning...:)
Love,Christine

Reviewed by Karen Lynn Vidra, The Texas Tornado

Reviewed on October 27, 2008

Intriguing write, Jon, but oh, so well done! BRAVO!

(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in Tx., Karen Lynn. :D

Reviewed by Walt Hardester

Reviewed on October 27, 2008

Interesting write Jon. One that could take on many meanings for your reader. But isn't that what we aim for?

~W~

Reviewed by Abdi-Noor Mohamed (Eagle Of Hope)

Reviewed on October 27, 2008

DEATH LIES UPON EVERY LOW TREE BRANCH
UPON EVERY TRUNK
MIXED WITH THE GREN GRASS WHERE I ROLLED
SEEKING RELEASE FROM THIS MOLT

Your words brilliantly indicate the death of a season. with thanks and much respect to you, John

Reviewed by Bonnie May

Reviewed on October 27, 2008

I couldn't help but see leaves fall from the life that held them and dropping to the ground. This poem painted many pictureS for me and was so entrancing. Since I've read this again I see so much more. You must shed the old before the new can begin. Love, Bonnie