A CERTAIN STILLNESS--edited

Deep and a little nervy. Written well but you sent chills up my spine. Lol. Best wishes, Lyz. XX

"This strange stillness coming at me. To steal my dreams of immortality. Yes Strange stillness this. Strange happenings I see coming my way Serendipity." I find the repetition of the coming at me and coming my way ....? I love the strange stillness, so strangely evocative of a aquiescent spirit in the theatre of life's future doom. Floating phantoms of thoughts changing shape, ever changing shapes in their ephemeral chills and dream-shadows, you give us something beautiful, at the same time as throwing us face down in the mud of your feelings of anger at the injustices of fate. And the frozen stare is SO STRONG that we quake at its empty expression, so powerfully said My Longobardolino, From your Annuccia

It was not due to any academic consideration of this poem that I personally found the repetition slightly uncomfortable in an otherwise enjoyable poem. And Lyz how differently we 'see' silence as I love silence, it is them that magic sounds can fill the air in their tentative way, like the shifting of birds on their perches, or the swish of a bat round the ears, or the crack of a twig telling of some night animal out for his meal, or the beautiful emptiness, the infinity of space seeming to grow greater and greater as one stands still totally aware of all around one in a very particular way, then one feels a part of the whole universe. "It was so still one could hear a rat pissing on cotton" that's something else! But I am glad I didn't have children who filled the air around me with never-ending pop music day, in day out, I am sure I would have felt, or even become mad! We had the radio with music and of course classical music which I love (NB. Not all) But we would often be quite quiet in the evenings doing our own things, my sister and parents engrossed in something interesting. Then my father would open a particular drawer in his upright polished old oak desk, where we were forbidden to go, and the rustle of Mars bar wrapping would break the silence, he cut it into slices and handed them round to us, the silence made the sound of this sudden sweetness extra potent. Would you like a slice, help yourself, or ..selves, Versaagod. Your Annuccia P.S.And thank you Joe for the answer to my comment, that pleased me a lot!

Reread and yes those little tweaks amended makes it sound better. And to you dear Ann, you should write a book as you have a lovely way of telling of the past. Beautiful. Love to you both. Lyz. XX