Nice to see the structured discipline.
Cathartic work.

Now this is what I call perfect poetry

Thank you so much for the compliment. I enjoyed the processes and your guidance.

Goodness-ME, Fia!🍷

I’m amazed at how well you’ve done with your first effort at writing a Sonnet … it just goes to show the wonders waiting to be unlocked and freed under the surface of one’s bountiful potential.

This is no small accomplishment, and one you should be exceedingly proud of, as only a rare few of all poetesses and poets can compose a correct Sonnet. The Sonnet form is known as the Rolls Royce of poetry, and due to its “iambic pentameter” requirement many give-up before ever mastering its beautifully rhythmical unstressedSTRESSED meter.

How exemplary your natural creativity fits so smoothly into the diction and syntax of each line, and how perfectly your lines enjamb and break. Emotion, metaphor, imagery, grammar, spot-on rhymes (except, V2, L3&4, but it’s near-rhyme and can be addressed anytime) … also, your all around theme and ambiance are held faithfully throughout.

Poignantly sad, you convey a tale so many can relate to in so many ways … you’re an amazingly original poetess, Fia, with a broad potential to master the art of poetry few possess.

Thank you for sharing your lovely potic skills, to inspire us all at the “Back to Poetry Basics” group.
You make an olde bard ‘n teacher so proud and ohhhh-sooo very happy! ⁓ Richard🖌

Beautifully penned, Fia. Excellent sonnet my friend, you can do anything you put your mind to cuz. Nicely done. Appreciate you.

Damian

Tremendous work.

I recently wrote a piece about aging too. I visit my mother in her apartment building every weekend and I see others there, just hanging out in the lobby alone. She says they never get guests and that many of her neighbors are jealous of her consistent visitors. It made me sad to think about all the stories sitting in silence. I’ll post it in honor of this poem and its message

Well, we’ve gotten here, you and I, and now our elbows wobble. (and all that other stuff) But doesn’t it beat the alternative? Maybe a little Neil Young is called for:

Old man lying by the side of the road
With the lorries rolling by
Blue moon sinking from the weight of the load
And the buildings scrape the sky
Cold wind ripping down the alley at dawn
And the morning paper flies
Dead man lying by the side of the road
With the daylight in his eyes
Don’t let it bring you down
It’s only castles burning
Find someone who’s turning
And you will come around

Well, Neil Young isn’t my favorite (it”s the voice), but he’s a hell of a writer, so I’ll take this with a big thank you, my friend. And a big Ho, Ho, Ho, too!

This one walks like a wounded animal—slow, deliberate, and not asking for pity.
That rain in the closet and reflection lying flat? That’s grief stripped of metaphor and still standing there, breathing.