Your poetry always caresses the senses with a surrealistic hug. Nice one. 🙂

Oh, this is good!

Blimey Roma, I lie less than a mile from the sea and yet these words resonate louder than the incoming midnight tide. You are a mistress of the moon and sea – always leave that mahogany door open.

Beautifully penned, Roma. Your imagery is so precise it immediately grabs my attention. Excellent write my friend. Appreciate you.

Damian

‘Then I awoke,
carrying the weight of water,
of memory,
of starlight,

bridging the world of the living
with the world I had entered.’

Your words have a sadness from core to display; I had to read them three times because at the first try I sighed, had to catch my breath; tragedy seemed to come from somewhere far, far out of reach. Such emotional words, could be real, true.

Hi emmagreen. Thank you so much for such a thoughtful response. 🌙 Your words mean a lot…I wrote this piece with that very sense of distance and weight in mind, like grief and memory carried from another realm. I’m touched it resonated with you.

Haunted by passion and intimacy gone cold and pallid. I can relate. The question is, how do you reignite a fizzled star.

Always a pleasure
Clay

Its quite painful to be in a relationship when libidos get out of sync.
You’ve captured it perfectly in this piece.
I haven’t found a fix …. hope you are more successful.
😘🙏

It’s a sad story as old as time itself. I’m sure at some time in the past cavemen through their cavewomen out into the mud, and space alien women are floating in space because they didn’t clean the dashboard of the UFO controls good enough. 🙂

This really captures the ache of a love that feels distant while still sharing the same space. “How did we die? / Laying in this bed.” says so much with so few words.

Powerfully penned, Fia. I felt the ache in your words my friend, excellent write. Appreciate you, cuz.

Damian

Painful, tragic, brilliantly told in this piece. Great!!

Over sometimes long before it is declared over. No winners. A tie in last place. A slow painful death of a relationship…

I think I’ve been in that bed–or one very similar. You express very well the cold shoulder of love collapsing. I wish love potions were real.

Fia, this is a heartbreakingly powerful poem. This poem about what happens when one partner in a relationship lets go is such a real human experience that you put into words the burned across the page.

John

How sad that all things must change. I can relate in some ways just walking out my front door and seeing rows of houses where once woods where we played sat. All my childhood friends left when they heard of other boroughs moving in. They were right. I can imagine how hard it must be for you to go back and see a different world, one not so loving.

This poem is full of gentle nostalgia – the raspberries, the cows, the hills all bring the past vividly to life. It’s quietly profound, and I could almost step into that memory myself. Beautifully done, j

Phenomenally penned, Jacob. Love the nostalgic flavor, and the memories in a small corner of a past universe. Excellent write my friend. Appreciate you.

Damian

Some say you should never go back. Not me, I am a great one for nostalgia. Things change, not always for the better, but memories last a lifetime. Fabulous poem and your latest book title too. I love our bovine friends. Can remember walking through meadows myself as a child.

Chris

That is a horrible feeling when you think about it. You had it in your hands to write then it gets dashed away.

Did you ever have a really great idea, but you are driving somewhere, and by the time you get where you are going….abracadabra….poof.
the thought has left you?
Ugh!
Thank you, Fia.
j.

Yes, the mojo being torn away or lost. Often it’s the frustration of knowing what could have been that really hurts.

If we weren’t poets, we would probably just say “Oh well.”

But we are, so it hurts deeply when we lose good ideas…and at my age, I really have to catch them fast.

We have all been. I was black coffee with three sugars for years. I cut the sugar and the coffee and many other desired tasty stuff. Sucks. But, I’m only 9 years away from the ages my parents were when they died. I want a bit more time.

Cleverly penned, Jacob. The life of a writer, I think we’ve all been there. Great storytelling my friend. Appreciate you.

Damian

If you lose an idea you will always have another. If you have it brewing it will resurface or it will fly on.

A very vivid scene painted with few words

Regards James

I have always found a cup of coffee to be a great conjure of thought. Just like a rainy day that puts you in the mood for film noirs at TCM. Somehow, I just can’t imagine you ever being at a loss for words!