I liked this, Damian.

Oh, so totally resonates. I don’t know where I would be without my proverbial pen. And I spent far too many years perched in neutral…only to discover there is no such thing. Either your ass is leaning in one direction or your nose is. I prefer staying informed & walking the path that suits me. Shadows & all. And i find like souls along the way when living authentic. Consider this one on my reading list with emphasis, my friend

Thanks so much for reading and your kind words, Mary. So glad you connected with the write my friend. Agreed, there is always more to the story. Appreciate you.

Damian

That’s beautifully reflective—wisdom framed not as some lofty concept, but as lived experience layered over time. The imagery of seasons and fences evokes quiet contemplation, hesitation, even resilience. That last line? A soft unraveling of illusion. It reads like a quiet reckoning.

Superb work. Powerful.

Intriguing…

I like the contrast you used in some verses. Dark thoughts indeed. Well done, Fia!

Powerfully penned, Fia. Into the book it belongs! Amazing write my friend, with dark vibes very present. Appreciate you.

Damian

Thank you, Adira;))

Fantatic!

G’Mornin’, Fia 🌤️

Good title, and what a great lead-in with V1’s frustrating contradictions setting the mood for what’s to come (L2, make it “you’re” sad).
Boy howdy! You sure know how to express the angst so many of us have had to endure and overcome; yet, it seems some never do … sadly so.

You’re such a creative writer, Ria: I admire your keen ability to weave vivid imagery and emotion throughout every verse and in the use of spot-on rhymes, timely line-breaks, and smooth flow.
Excellent wrap-up verse, too. For rhyme’s sake with “despair,” consider using “there” rather than “here” (just a thought).

“Wake, wake from this despair! (great poe-esque touch)
It is me you’re talking to …
no one else is there.”

Fia, you’re such a joy to read and share with. 🌈
Thank you ever-so warmly! ⁓ Richard🖌

Very captivating.

Thank you, Steven;))

The last 2 lines are perfect for this. Nicely done

Damn…you always take me somewhere with your poetry. This one is no exception. Give those last 2 lines their just dues. They’re fantastic, my friend

Thanks so much for reading and your kind words, Raven. So glad you connected with the write my friend. Appreciate you.

Damian

Thanks so much for reading and your kind words, Mary. So glad you connected with the write my friend. Means a lot to me. Appreciate you.

Damian

You’ve gotta give yourself more credit, Damian.
The last lines indeed suppressed my own voracious appetite. The last stanza is my favorite.
Nice spill my friend. xx
~P.G💋

That’s razor-sharp and sinuous—like a poem with fangs. The alliteration of “verbal viper” and “voracious appetite” creates a rhythmic coil of menace and desire, as if the speaker’s confronting a charmer who cloaks cunning beneath sweetness. The image of truth dangling just out of reach—“suspending the obvious”—gives this a wicked elegance.

Your writing has only improved with time, Damian. Your struggle with the ending paid off in a victorious way.

Great poem/

And ty for your comments, they’re much appreciated.

hello dearest John it is very sad New Orleans is doing it’s best to recover you were fortunate to have enjoyed your time there before the storms beautiful write and your insight are not lost on me 💕

New Orleans is where jazz and funk music got there start. Where second-line drumming and parades flourish, and where jazz funerals are carried out. I was sad to see what Katrina did to the french quarter. I’m sure a place like that will always come back from whatever tragedy affects it.

You write this story with such clarity and weave it into an engaging scene that reaches out and rivets my attention. Great poem.

John

Powerfully penned, Thomas. Excellent storytelling my friend. Appreciate you.

Damian

You have expressed a real life tale with honesty and clarity.
I have been there. Got locked up for being drunk in public myself once.
I think I said to a police officer “Your a C…U…N…T. I didn’t say it i just spelt it out.
He didn’t understand. When he realised what I was saying I was thrown in the van.
I they took my clothes and gave me some grey prison scrubs. When I sobered up I started singing prison songs.
“He’s in the jailhouse now.” and Locked up by Akon. Some counties in England are stricker on booze than others. I have been out of my mind all over England, but Yorkshire was the place they locked me up. Don’t do it in Yorkshire.

Thanks for sharing this poem. I am glad to know I am not the only one.

regards
James

This sounds like such a Midwest thing. Great telling of the night!

Thank you so much.