Moribund Night

The aging process does bring on the memories, and you have once again written a poem to be enjoyed, a life's lessen, I suppose. Love Lyz. XX

this is a beautifully contemplative poem, a great read. I particularly enjoyed the bit of visual poetry you wove in :) I have that thing with line breaks, especially in free form poetry, so I'd like to suggest rearranging some of the lines: Lines stretch like the gray strands heading south in my beard edged with silver snowflakes and crisp ice. Shivers find a lake and a river and a sky as blue as cobalt laced with serpentine. Darkness ascends to meet her midnight summit. Orion shimmers his rise while sentiment surfaces, remembers the trappings of a younger lad blooming with pride to tell the hunter’s tale … I still remember her blond curls; a glimmer like yesterday’s gold so near to my palms I could feel my own breath feather each strand. There are riches in memories that circle a crystal night when moonlit snow filters its purple sheen and the fire in the stove grows dim. Arms that swung axes are weaker; fingers twist to knotted knuckles twining kindling tucked neatly beneath larger logs. Morning comes slowly, flames flicker and suck the last string of warmth from leaden eyes that glisten with her memory. Of course, it's entirely up to you if you want to do an edit or not, the poem does stand well as it is. Yours, ~Nina P.S. Visuals always get warped in comment fields, but as I said, that was the one part I'd neverever change.

the biggest fan of linebreaks, but acknowledge that they work. I too have a lot of probs. with them. I too have trouble breaking free of the 4-line block. LOL I guess that is indicative of the ryhmer. I did love the poem, and it brought to mind an old friend of mine. Gone now, but not forgotten. Thanks for bringing him back. ~ Gee

I didn't check the revisions, but what I see is very good, some wonderfully descriptive lines... Darkness ascends to meet her midnight summit... wow. the transition between "hunter's tale" and the "golden curls" could be smoother, remember, maybe plagued or and still smitten... or not, it does work as it is. a crystal night, maybe, crystal nights, because I am thinking the old man has many such nights like this, or maybe I'm the old man with old memories that plague my mind... great poem Pamela... I hope you don't mind my suggestions, that's all they are, you are indeed a skilled writer... totally enjoyed the read! Richard

Pamela The aging process - this made me last as recently with a friend we both looked in the mirror and said to each other who is that looking back at me? We both burst into laughter As for line breads - some are necessasary Electric Blue