Reflections of Her

3 Comments

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  • Family

    Reflections of Her
    It's Dawn, I'm staring at the ceiling
    Lying on my bed, hollow and worn
    Drenched in sweat, my heart pounding loudly
    Dreadful visions of never meeting again
    I'm Leaving home - My first journey alone
    Always been at odds, Both of us too proud
    Sometimes tears creep up on me
    Should I have embraced her more tightly?
    Should I have declared my gratitude?
    Should I have lingered more to say farewell
    We Ignored reality the whole time to the station
    My source, My life, My Joy, My world
    She raised me and now I am her
    I'm comforted with that at least

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    gregaone commented on Reflections of Her

    06-30-2009

    I was reading my critique and I just want you to know, I hope you take my criticism constructively. You truly do have a new fan in me. I hope I didn't sound rambling in my opinion..although I rated this poem quite high..i would have rated it higher if not 10 had it not been for what I said earlier..Thanks for the great poem.
    Reply to Comment

    darkchile

    07/05/2009

    Hi gregaone. I don't mind your critiquing my poem and i feel humble that you think my poem was good. They were just memories that still linger. Thanks again for the kind words i appreciate it.

    gregaone commented on Reflections of Her

    06-30-2009

    This is an excellent poem..but as gjmichelle said, tighter is screaming to be changed to tightly, or simply drop the word more.."more tighter" ruins the whole thing when as I said, it deserves to be rated as excellent. Otherwise, I can feel your emotion through your words..very good submission..I cannot express enough how much my eyes are drawn back to that ruinous "more tighter" ...sorry.
    Reply to Comment

    gjmichele77 commented on Reflections of Her

    05-12-2009

    A lot of emotion in this one. You might consider changing "tighter" to "tightly". Expresses the mother/daughter bond well.
    Reply to Comment

    Poetry is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality.

    T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

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