in the fog

((((((Barry)))))) You're killing me with your songs. All of them. ~we "What we do for ourselves dies with us. What we do for others and the world remains and is immortal." Albert Pine

Oh oh oh oh oh did you? Have you? Did you? And if so what woe what life gone by still in your sky, still hesitant to disappear, to be gone from memory, still beating the heart your drum of pain still lingering in the trams and cars of life journey's not forgotten praised and still here in the words of your poem. Misty eyed love from Ann You build fine bridges Barry. your above the sky........you're

What can I say, Tragic? I was very moved by this poem. My sister Catherine battled with Cronic Alcoholism for many years, due to a tough life she couldn't escape from. She attempted suicide on occassions but called for help. In the end she did kill herself, a Brain hemorage brought on by the damage to her body due to her alcohol addiction. I must admit to you. I too have attempted suicide on several occassions. I died on the table twice but was brought back by the skills of the doctors. I'm not proud that I've done this. I try hard not to get to the stage where suicide thoughts overwhelm me to self-destruction. Writing poety helps me to talk about my feelings and fears, a bit like self-counselling. Our lost ones never die. They're in our hearts. xena465

I am sorry I have no words for you tonight .. so well writen you ripped us apart love and mountains of hugs Jayne-Chloe x x x

hello you sure are writting alot these days fair play , as i am reading this we have freezing fog here these days and again today, my fav line " there`s no bridge maybe there`s a fog that lost it " keep it up b ,,,,,,,,,,,,,ziggy

A terrific piece of writing. Brian

"Otherwise" by Jane Kenyon from Poetry 180 web site, also in the book Poems To Live By In Uncertain Times, which I can recommend, available on Amazon. Otherwise I got out of bed on two strong legs. It might have been otherwise. I ate cereal, sweet milk, ripe, flawless peach. It might have been otherwise. I took the dog uphill to the birch wood. All morning I did the work I love. At noon I lay down with my mate. It might have been otherwise. We ate dinner together at a table with silver candlesticks. It might have been otherwise. I slept in a bed in a room with paintings on the walls, and planned another day just like this day. But one day, I know, it will be otherwise. ******************** I agree with your assertion that you have a strong start on a difficult and worthy subject. Many possibilities with bridges and fogs, real and imagined, in your rewrites. I hope that in additional drafts you find some peace. If you have one clear memory of your late brother that humanizes him or makes him specific to your audience, that may be an important decision in another draft. An elegy is a fine tribute.