PHANTOMS OF SILENCE

You have revealed your soul in this poem. You always get to me and I enjoy reading your work. Title is apt and your words are faultless. Thank u. Love and best wishes, Love Lyz. XX

The pivotal line in this escape in to the child self is line thirteen. "I fall on sharp edges of infinity" the poem turns on this line and and the contrasting forced reality shatters in to total realisation in its conclusion of dissolutionment. on a desenting note the metaphors touched a little on cleche, but they fit so well it didn't detract from my over all rapport.Well thought out and constructed and rings very true.We are all subject to the writers insight.Thumbs-up ...............o

slow and subtle like the slow sublime falling of early winter superb Mr Longo! your freind, Orgami......

Dear kind innocent Longobardolino mio, You make us sigh at this life's lack of innocence, as you waltz around your inner mind with the dexterous steps of youth guiding your footsteps, your dear mother, your aunts and uncles, round you in protective circles. I see Orphani's pivot, those sharp edges of infinity, such a potent image, and you fall on them as if flung from the sky upon shards of non-reality, shiny sharp and unyeilding. I can easily see why you feel you are separating, the parts of you unaffected hanging on to reality, to life, while those furies tug and rend the rest of you to pieces, the opposite of innocence bent on tearing you apart, like a beast with its prey, those genes that shouldn't have filtered down to just you, so unkind, but as you say yourself, that's life!! And that lonely place, which is that part of your brain within which your tormented soul, dwells, hiding from their fury, fearful of being taken over and crushed, never to be recognised again. They never abandoned you, Those quiet ghosts, they were as helpless as you in your quest to find their voice again, and they went from this life wishing you well and holding your hand through the pain, as they still do, in your mind. Its one thing to understand the wherefore and the why, but it is quite another thing to experience the reality that you now do, no one can relate to that except those with the same troubles, or the same potency of pain in their bodies. We quake to hear of it and find your poem illustrates so well what you feel. Such suffering, would it were not so. We feel with you and love to hear you form your thoughts in words to give us pause to ponder on life's deeper problems of existence in such a well phrased language. With love from your Annuccia

You can still impress in us the shapes of memory those precious forms that fill our minds with love, with that understanding of connection, relationship, that fills out days when we are little, and if lucky, becomes a bond, a trust, an ever present hand to help and guide, be guided too, in return as each their ages merge in their known lives to become a whole, a family of fates and feelings culminating in the greatest feeling of grace that life lived can embrace. Be glad you, Longobardolino, found that love now, which unbreakable dominates your 'soul', your troubles your all, and does your readers now enthral. Your Annuccia