04-22-2017, 10:22 PM
Hi Tectak! 
How fateful comes the end of days; the dust and ash of years I wanted to replace fateful with faithful
in thinnest layer.... a mica glint, a chalked blurred line upon dark moss. is this an example of pathetic fallacy?
Here dropped the wind, the very air he used to have and hold until
some prodding, pointed purpose drove it up and out of him...
cream-curdled words, how erudite his prose...to burst upon us all. cream curdled is descriptive, but I am not sure in which direction
There is a silence on this hill, as deep and high as some inverted lake I like this line very very much
wherein we weep into our piled up tears, unseen through subterfuge I get it, but would kill the word subterfuge
of watered eyes; we feel no runs upon pale cheeks, so drenched are we.
Up swirls one stirring current in the aether that was still, an image aether, interesting
smoked from long-cold flames, alive again against brass-blasted sky. sentiment, touching
It is not him. Some other spirit none of us yet know has claimed him now. beauty
tectak
2017
Thank you kindly for this fine poem with a different format. It shows a touch of class
as it cleverly seems to not quite step over some sort of agreement or line of betrayal.
So then it must be working to achieve what it was meant to do.
I hope you have a wonderful day filled with sunshine and joy! Best wishes.
How fateful comes the end of days; the dust and ash of years I wanted to replace fateful with faithful
in thinnest layer.... a mica glint, a chalked blurred line upon dark moss. is this an example of pathetic fallacy?
Here dropped the wind, the very air he used to have and hold until
some prodding, pointed purpose drove it up and out of him...
cream-curdled words, how erudite his prose...to burst upon us all. cream curdled is descriptive, but I am not sure in which direction
There is a silence on this hill, as deep and high as some inverted lake I like this line very very much
wherein we weep into our piled up tears, unseen through subterfuge I get it, but would kill the word subterfuge
of watered eyes; we feel no runs upon pale cheeks, so drenched are we.
Up swirls one stirring current in the aether that was still, an image aether, interesting
smoked from long-cold flames, alive again against brass-blasted sky. sentiment, touching
It is not him. Some other spirit none of us yet know has claimed him now. beauty
tectak
2017
Thank you kindly for this fine poem with a different format. It shows a touch of class
as it cleverly seems to not quite step over some sort of agreement or line of betrayal.
So then it must be working to achieve what it was meant to do.
I hope you have a wonderful day filled with sunshine and joy! Best wishes.
there's always a better reason to love