Mood Wrung
More21 total reviews
Comment from BLACKTITANIUM86
I see, you like to stay true to yourself, huh?
Nevertheless, I like your style of write. For,
have the ability to hold the attention of the
reader. Keep Writing. And don't forget to stop
by to talk to me. Stay Connected
reply by the author on 21-Feb-2022
I see, you like to stay true to yourself, huh?
Nevertheless, I like your style of write. For,
have the ability to hold the attention of the
reader. Keep Writing. And don't forget to stop
by to talk to me. Stay Connected
Comment Written 21-Feb-2022
reply by the author on 21-Feb-2022
-
BLACKTITAN86,
Thank you for the review. I am not sure how you found this work which was written many years ago, but it humbled me one would take the time to read.
As for your first line in the review, I am not so sure where the remark came from or what you meant by it. I say this because after "huh" you followed by "Nevertheless", which in context I am reading it as an affront. If I am wrong, could you explain. I will certainly apologize if I read it the wrong way.
For a while, a long while, I have not posted anything and have given very few reviews. If I have spent anytime on here, it is in the forum and that has been nil as of late. I am not very good at staying connected but I will be very happy to read and review any of your work you would like me to. Thank you for your encouragement to keep writing. I believe everyone needs encouragement.
Again, thank you so very much and if I have misinterpreted anything, I do apologize.
jlsavell
Comment from writeapoem
What a great biographical poem. I cannot believe you wrote from your phone remarkable feat. The flow of the poem and its contents romantic with a touch of family written withing the lines and one of the best of all time.
reply by the author on 20-Apr-2017
What a great biographical poem. I cannot believe you wrote from your phone remarkable feat. The flow of the poem and its contents romantic with a touch of family written withing the lines and one of the best of all time.
Comment Written 30-Mar-2017
reply by the author on 20-Apr-2017
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writeapoem, I apologize for just responding to this wonderful review. I am not on here much and have actually just returned. Thank you ever so much for reading an older work which paid you nothing to read. This is very humbling. Absolutely and undeniably.. again a big thank you... jlsavell
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Your welcome I too am here sporadically between mission works abroad. Your work old and new are great.
Comment from I am Cat
First off, I'm just so overwrought that I don't have a six star rating to give you for a piece that so richly deserves it... I was struck, first by the poetic beauty of this piece and then... the sheer emotional impact of it. Wow! I'm just blown away.
These are my thoughts as I went through it:
The day growing lazy,
yearning to pull its shades
across the beckoning twilght
Its silver haze imbued
with a tinge of grapefruit hues
just at the hem
of the remaining day's garment
Ombre in graduated form
(as an artist, I appreciated this on the sheer beauty of colors you've described... leaving the reader in this lovely state of being... )
Twilight evokes tranquility;
a time of reflection,
calming pensive moodiness
We sat outside, the two of us
in this evening's breeze
I say breeze;
it was more like a soft teasing kiss;
seductive, gentle, and comforting
(and as we go along... still, we are unassuming... unknowing, and unwatchful of what is coming, as we are just loving the feeling of this poem...)
I sat in a lotus pose
His child, his only child,
sweet and affectionate,
reclined lazily at my feet
Her energy, her spirit
as sweet as golden honey,
like her fur
(and we see... oh, you're holding a pet...)
Still in my posture,
she mimicked my state
The Northern Star began to wink
like an S.O.S. - perhaps God's message
Talk my child, talk, I will listen
I wanted to talk, to wring my worries,
to salve my hurt;
here beneath the southern pines
in which the slightest winds
played the leaves in dulcet scales
with symphonic finesse
Her sweet brown eyes met mine
as if to say you're not crazy,
just human
(what? what is this feeling of dis-ease we're starting to feel is coming now?)
Her master's friend
doesn't know me,
but she boldly declared,
"Keep that bitch away from her.
She will kill her!"
I ruminate over this remark,
trying to shove it down
where the excrement of life resides
(this is the only part which confuses me a bit... of just who is talking... but it matters not, for the mood is wrung, indeed!)
Across the far horizon
fly the black birds
Ravens perhaps,
but one missing in formation;
for she sits before me
squawking judgement
while a cross dangles from her wing
(and here it comes... ominous)
I was six, shy, timid, and scared
Lenny was my heart,
even when his heart
and his brains were
splattered across my gingham dress
My soul murdered with a shovel of evil
(omg... and my heart sank... and I wanted to reach for that child)
Scattered membranes
like gobs of red/yellow goo
clung to my flesh like ticks
He, this brut-
my Mother's needed husband,
rotund and red-faced
aglow with evil satisfaction
His big toothy grin spoke,
"Clean it up... and the garden too!"
(oh, and then, I wanted to smack this man... how very well you described... 'my mother's needed husband"... that told us all we needed to know about him... and her)
With little hands and dry tears, I did
He slaughtered innocence that day
My heart was interred with Lenny
and memories chiseled
in a non-existent headstone
All creatures great and small
are held there, not too close,
not too far
My spirit pounds beneath the earth
pulsating, a throbbing ache in my temporal lobe
(oh and mine throbs with you Jimi... right now)
The dusk has given its charge
to the black-velvet texture of the night
The Northern Star twinkles brighter
I rise from my position, take a deep breath
and exhale,
along with the long held rush of tears
in which those unfounded words
ripped a festuring wound
(this just breaks my heart... told with such courage and humanity... and such raw edges... we all cut ourselves on them as we read... and we bleed tears)
My sweet friend rises to my hips,
licks my hands wet with tears
I think God listens
My mood wrung,
wrung from a day's clutch
(wow. This is just so powerful and lovely... and i can't tell you how it speaks to my soul. I feel honored to have read these words and you can bet that I will be fanning you... I hope that is ok with you... you write with such loveliness... and truth, I want to be a part of that. Well done. And congratulations on this nomination... Well deserved. VERY much so.)
Cat
reply by the author on 22-Oct-2015
First off, I'm just so overwrought that I don't have a six star rating to give you for a piece that so richly deserves it... I was struck, first by the poetic beauty of this piece and then... the sheer emotional impact of it. Wow! I'm just blown away.
These are my thoughts as I went through it:
The day growing lazy,
yearning to pull its shades
across the beckoning twilght
Its silver haze imbued
with a tinge of grapefruit hues
just at the hem
of the remaining day's garment
Ombre in graduated form
(as an artist, I appreciated this on the sheer beauty of colors you've described... leaving the reader in this lovely state of being... )
Twilight evokes tranquility;
a time of reflection,
calming pensive moodiness
We sat outside, the two of us
in this evening's breeze
I say breeze;
it was more like a soft teasing kiss;
seductive, gentle, and comforting
(and as we go along... still, we are unassuming... unknowing, and unwatchful of what is coming, as we are just loving the feeling of this poem...)
I sat in a lotus pose
His child, his only child,
sweet and affectionate,
reclined lazily at my feet
Her energy, her spirit
as sweet as golden honey,
like her fur
(and we see... oh, you're holding a pet...)
Still in my posture,
she mimicked my state
The Northern Star began to wink
like an S.O.S. - perhaps God's message
Talk my child, talk, I will listen
I wanted to talk, to wring my worries,
to salve my hurt;
here beneath the southern pines
in which the slightest winds
played the leaves in dulcet scales
with symphonic finesse
Her sweet brown eyes met mine
as if to say you're not crazy,
just human
(what? what is this feeling of dis-ease we're starting to feel is coming now?)
Her master's friend
doesn't know me,
but she boldly declared,
"Keep that bitch away from her.
She will kill her!"
I ruminate over this remark,
trying to shove it down
where the excrement of life resides
(this is the only part which confuses me a bit... of just who is talking... but it matters not, for the mood is wrung, indeed!)
Across the far horizon
fly the black birds
Ravens perhaps,
but one missing in formation;
for she sits before me
squawking judgement
while a cross dangles from her wing
(and here it comes... ominous)
I was six, shy, timid, and scared
Lenny was my heart,
even when his heart
and his brains were
splattered across my gingham dress
My soul murdered with a shovel of evil
(omg... and my heart sank... and I wanted to reach for that child)
Scattered membranes
like gobs of red/yellow goo
clung to my flesh like ticks
He, this brut-
my Mother's needed husband,
rotund and red-faced
aglow with evil satisfaction
His big toothy grin spoke,
"Clean it up... and the garden too!"
(oh, and then, I wanted to smack this man... how very well you described... 'my mother's needed husband"... that told us all we needed to know about him... and her)
With little hands and dry tears, I did
He slaughtered innocence that day
My heart was interred with Lenny
and memories chiseled
in a non-existent headstone
All creatures great and small
are held there, not too close,
not too far
My spirit pounds beneath the earth
pulsating, a throbbing ache in my temporal lobe
(oh and mine throbs with you Jimi... right now)
The dusk has given its charge
to the black-velvet texture of the night
The Northern Star twinkles brighter
I rise from my position, take a deep breath
and exhale,
along with the long held rush of tears
in which those unfounded words
ripped a festuring wound
(this just breaks my heart... told with such courage and humanity... and such raw edges... we all cut ourselves on them as we read... and we bleed tears)
My sweet friend rises to my hips,
licks my hands wet with tears
I think God listens
My mood wrung,
wrung from a day's clutch
(wow. This is just so powerful and lovely... and i can't tell you how it speaks to my soul. I feel honored to have read these words and you can bet that I will be fanning you... I hope that is ok with you... you write with such loveliness... and truth, I want to be a part of that. Well done. And congratulations on this nomination... Well deserved. VERY much so.)
Cat
Comment Written 20-Oct-2015
reply by the author on 22-Oct-2015
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I am Cat,
What an exceptional review!
My best friend, he thinks I am way too emotional in my poetry. His words sting a little, but poetry takes life in all its province.
Too much sweet stuff out there, trite where man has gone before. Poetry can ve beautiful even if it is tragic, or sad. It's emotive and it shares a human experience other than roses are red, violets are blue,. At least that is how I see it.
This is a completely true story.
The friend of her masters made a bad error in judgement. She doesn't know me, yet when confronted she has yet to apologize and that's okay. I accept it.
But hey, thank you ever so much.
I am truly humbled.
Jimi
Comment from tfawcus
I've spent quite a bit of time over this weekend reading and thinking about this month's nominees for Poem of the Month. I keep coming back to this one. It is haunting in its intensity. The contrast between the two halves makes the emotional impact of the childhood trauma all the more vivid and sickening. I would go line by line on this but you would get thoroughly fed-up with the fulsome praise. It seems churlish to mention grammar in the context of such good writing, but 'flies the blackbirds' should be 'fly the black birds'. I have separated black birds for I feel sure that you are speaking here of the colour rather than the species - especially with the line that follows. In my two years on the site, I have rarely read poetry that bleeds emotion onto the page with such poetic control. Truly marvellous, Jimi.
reply by the author on 18-Oct-2015
I've spent quite a bit of time over this weekend reading and thinking about this month's nominees for Poem of the Month. I keep coming back to this one. It is haunting in its intensity. The contrast between the two halves makes the emotional impact of the childhood trauma all the more vivid and sickening. I would go line by line on this but you would get thoroughly fed-up with the fulsome praise. It seems churlish to mention grammar in the context of such good writing, but 'flies the blackbirds' should be 'fly the black birds'. I have separated black birds for I feel sure that you are speaking here of the colour rather than the species - especially with the line that follows. In my two years on the site, I have rarely read poetry that bleeds emotion onto the page with such poetic control. Truly marvellous, Jimi.
Comment Written 18-Oct-2015
reply by the author on 18-Oct-2015
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tfawcus,
There is not much I can say. I am extremely honored and humbled by this review and by your becoming my fan. Absolutely and undeniably.
Thank you Jimi
Comment from w.j.debi
This is heart wrenching. What a cruel thing to do to a child and the pet she loves.
-You nailed the emotion elements.
-Excellent descriptions. I can imagine the shy child and the look of disbelief and loss on her face.
-Excellent symbolism with the raven and the cross in its wing passing judgement.
-I really like the description of the breeze as a soft teasing kiss as the speaker begins to reminisce.
-I feel the disapproval and revulsion of
this brut-
my Mother's needed husband,
rotund and red-faced
Excellent write!
I am glad the poem was nominated for poem of the month so I got a chance to read it. I missed it when you posted it.
Best of luck Jimi!
reply by the author on 18-Oct-2015
This is heart wrenching. What a cruel thing to do to a child and the pet she loves.
-You nailed the emotion elements.
-Excellent descriptions. I can imagine the shy child and the look of disbelief and loss on her face.
-Excellent symbolism with the raven and the cross in its wing passing judgement.
-I really like the description of the breeze as a soft teasing kiss as the speaker begins to reminisce.
-I feel the disapproval and revulsion of
this brut-
my Mother's needed husband,
rotund and red-faced
Excellent write!
I am glad the poem was nominated for poem of the month so I got a chance to read it. I missed it when you posted it.
Best of luck Jimi!
Comment Written 17-Oct-2015
reply by the author on 18-Oct-2015
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Another huge huge thank you.
Tou know there are just some things that are so painful , that we do bury them so deep.
I have a great affection and awe struck wonder fir animals. They seem, also, to be drawn to me, but I don't own one. I want too, but I jyst can't. My roommate and good friend has thus sweet dog, Emmy. She hangs around me like a vad habit. I do nothing special for her . Meaning mothing her master doesn't do, but sge sticks to me like glue.
The piem stemmed from a remark by a woman who doesn't kniw ne at all. Clearly, I don't let strangers wrought ne emotionally over such caustic comments, but this did something to me in which I cannot describe fully. Thank you so very much.
Jimi
I am so honored you are a fan.
Comment from Patti R.
Wow.
A very raw and deep-seated telling of an obviously traumatic and horrible thing for a child to experience!
Your easy, flowing poem draws this reader along - a seemingly lovely domestic scene turned bad, very bad.
I am sorry that you've had to carry this with you.
Many of us have horrors we lock behind a door, but never forget.
Gorgeous poetry.
Good luck in the contest.
Patti
reply by the author on 18-Oct-2015
Wow.
A very raw and deep-seated telling of an obviously traumatic and horrible thing for a child to experience!
Your easy, flowing poem draws this reader along - a seemingly lovely domestic scene turned bad, very bad.
I am sorry that you've had to carry this with you.
Many of us have horrors we lock behind a door, but never forget.
Gorgeous poetry.
Good luck in the contest.
Patti
Comment Written 17-Oct-2015
reply by the author on 18-Oct-2015
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Patti R. Wiw, I am truly honored, truly.
This Is as gut real and as honest as it can get.
I don't own an y animals because I can't bring myself to.
My roommate has Emmy. She's a beautiful dog and she follows me around like we are best buddies. I guess we are. I dont do anything super special for her except talk talk, talk.
This topic is painful. A total stranger whom I would normally ignore the ignorance made the unkind statenent and it caused a great deal of pain because of my past.
Thank you so much for your wonderful review and the stars.
Jlsavell
Comment from The Mom/DarleneThomson
WOW!! I was gently floating along all tranquil in your poem being soothed by your words. Then splat it turned to my mood to downtrodden and sad. You sure can write.
reply by the author on 18-Oct-2015
WOW!! I was gently floating along all tranquil in your poem being soothed by your words. Then splat it turned to my mood to downtrodden and sad. You sure can write.
Comment Written 13-Oct-2015
reply by the author on 18-Oct-2015
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THE Mom aka Darlene,
I am so very honored you have become a fan. So very honored. Thank you so much!
Jlsavell
Comment from Gert sherwood
jlsavell
Amazing how you described the darkening mood of a child with your very descriptive adjective and stirring verbs.
The closure of your poem was very emotional to me.
Gert
reply by the author on 28-Sep-2015
jlsavell
Amazing how you described the darkening mood of a child with your very descriptive adjective and stirring verbs.
The closure of your poem was very emotional to me.
Gert
Comment Written 28-Sep-2015
reply by the author on 28-Sep-2015
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I am truly humbled by your review. I am so glad we are fans.
Jimi
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Good day jlsavell
Yes it's a pleasure to know you.
Gert
Comment from Dean Kuch
Whether or not one uses color, pictures, any other devices readily at their disposal is completely a matter of choice, Jimi. You've chosen not to, that's fine--none needed. If the writing is as articulately expressed and gut wrenching, genuinely raw and as powerful as this is, picture or not, it still hits home.
The words--our thoughts that we wish to express--should ALWAYS come first, before any pictures are ever contemplated.
The final reveal that Lenny was a dog, or some sort of pet--was a bit of a shocker - I was not expecting that...at all.
Well done free verse...
~Dean
reply by the author on 28-Sep-2015
Whether or not one uses color, pictures, any other devices readily at their disposal is completely a matter of choice, Jimi. You've chosen not to, that's fine--none needed. If the writing is as articulately expressed and gut wrenching, genuinely raw and as powerful as this is, picture or not, it still hits home.
The words--our thoughts that we wish to express--should ALWAYS come first, before any pictures are ever contemplated.
The final reveal that Lenny was a dog, or some sort of pet--was a bit of a shocker - I was not expecting that...at all.
Well done free verse...
~Dean
Comment Written 28-Sep-2015
reply by the author on 28-Sep-2015
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Thank you so very much Dean. Just purging that is all. I appreciate your time and your encouraging. comments
Jimi
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Just purging!? I wish my work came out as eloquently and well written as this poem when I did likewise, Jimi.
It usually comes out looking something like this: @$!! *&@^%$. *&!??, LOL.
You're very welcome. :} ~Dean
Comment from artemis53
It didn't need a pic or color. It was enough. My emotions ran the gamut with this one, jimi and I wanted justice for you, a child with a mind that was mutilated by an aberration of civilization. I can feel the choking in my throat. Excellent.
reply by the author on 28-Sep-2015
It didn't need a pic or color. It was enough. My emotions ran the gamut with this one, jimi and I wanted justice for you, a child with a mind that was mutilated by an aberration of civilization. I can feel the choking in my throat. Excellent.
Comment Written 28-Sep-2015
reply by the author on 28-Sep-2015
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Diane, thank you ever so much. A catharsis. Plucking blood stained branding thorns with the comforting strokes of a keyboard. Again, a huge thank you.
Jimi