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| Reviewed by Jon Willey |
4/26/2012 |
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| cynicism is created through many years of exposure to insincerity and dreams fatally dashed on the rocks - finding the essence of anything is usually an epic task with the results more acidic and crusty than pure of imagination - an interesting piece that has provided me with entertainment and given me cause to reexamine goals and purpose - I wish you love and peace my dear friend - Jon Michael |
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| Reviewed by Vivian Dawson |
4/20/2012 |
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A writer, A teacher, A poet!!!
*Jude*
"wintry" wreaks of all three!!!
Lady Vivian |
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| Reviewed by Tom Hyland |
4/20/2012 |
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JUDE ... I LIKE IT! WELL DONE!
REMINDS ME OF DAYS OF YORE & MY PARENTS HOME ... ARTIFICIAL FLOWERS & ARTIFICIAL TREE ... STARCHED 'DOILIES' & 5-CENT CERAMIC COFFEE MUGS ...
AND ARTIFICIAL 'SNOW' INSIDE A GLASS GLOBE ... BUT ONLY WHEN SHAKENED!
TOM.
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| Reviewed by Morgan Merriweather |
4/20/2012 |
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| why is it that it is so easy to remember a bad moment and the nice one's seem to go archived,like it would require to much to keep |
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| Reviewed by Ronald Hull |
4/20/2012 |
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My memories of Christmas seem to be much better. We didn't have much, but we did have a live tree and my parents warmth during that time of year. My father was prone to get drunk and there would be fights in the night that I didn't appreciate. Still, they stayed together 62 years, rain or snow, until he died at 85.
Ron |
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| Reviewed by Sherry Heim |
4/20/2012 |
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I know this story all too well. While holidays should be a time of joy, they rarely are. There is so much pressure about things that should not matter and not enough on those that should. If we could make the most important memories those of being surrounded by friends and family instead of all the rest, I think we might have better memories. Holidays have become all about the "things" and not about love and good times of playing with our cousins and celebrating life.
Take care,
Sherry |
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| Reviewed by Mary Ann Biddinger |
4/20/2012 |
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Vividly chartered into this remembering instilled in a wintry snow globe. Excellent Jude
A memory that saddens me as emotional more than not.
I had to sit at the top of the stairs until
dad and mom were ready to go down.
Wanting to desperately rush down to see the
tree with colorful lights and opening my
presents. I being only one child.
Hugs,
Lady Mary Ann
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| Reviewed by Amor Sabor |
4/19/2012 |
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| A dark memory this brings about...one of which, I would prefer forget and leave in the shadows of abandon. Excellent lines to leave more than what is written. |
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| Reviewed by Kate Burnside |
4/19/2012 |
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| Diana has said exactly how this emotionally stirring and reawakening poem speaks to me, Amigo: how my own heart is ripped through never being able to recall "the good times" and still feeling the acute yet fossilised, permafrost pain of the "bad", producing who-knows-what glacial fruits ongoing. Real people living old or even current nightmares, or plasticised people (our hearts immured) pedalling plastic dreams? When life has always been so Looking-Glass and strange, who has a handle on authenticity? Each of us inhabits the interior landscape of our own personal reality. Your images are beautifully and objectively rendered yet tinkle their fragile resonance like icicles within me; my father was taken away for the last time by "the men in white coats" on Christmas Day when I was 12 and he never came home again. And he was either incarcerated or home drunk and mentally ill for periods of time before that, but at all times my mother still tried to uphold an appearance of propriety and normality throughout - that particular distastrous, crashing Christmas Day included. I shall never forget it: my Christmas Father instead of Father Christmas! And mine is but one story among the many that could probably be told here. Yet you have powerfully spoken for all of us who are still looking for the miracle of that redemptive snowflake amongst our destitute emotional wastelands of ice, shattered glass or steel. You've certainly struck a chord! xx |
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| Reviewed by Sage Sweetwater |
4/19/2012 |
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frigid season of youth...bitter cold reminiscence...frosty family dynamics...
s |
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| Reviewed by Debby Rosenberg |
4/19/2012 |
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| always amazing what comes up out of the brain archieves...enjoyed the witness approach rather than an emotional melodrama |
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| Reviewed by Patrick Granfors |
4/19/2012 |
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| Sounds like one my office Christmas Parties. My extended family growing up was to poor for the glitter, I guess that's a good thing. Patrick |
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| Reviewed by Janna Hill |
4/19/2012 |
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'the only memory really worth recalling I never recollect'
What a start to a gut wrenching write.
May I say...
Wow.
:) Janna |
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| Reviewed by Diana Legun |
4/19/2012 |
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| House lights wane slowly on this scene, like a treasured toy fallen into the deep water, sinking, with no one able to dive in for it. This reads as the touching of a scar and the exact remembering of how it got there. Even the smell. We all have them. The scars. Reading the one written here brings sting to many faces, including mine. ~~ Diana |
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| Reviewed by Terry Rizzuti |
4/19/2012 |
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| Reminds me of the so-called reality shows -- all fake -- that we seem as a culture to be paying greater and greater attention to. Pretty sad. |
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| Reviewed by Amber Moonstone |
4/19/2012 |
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This poem makes me want to hug you. Such depth of emotion evokes tender feelings of maternal instincts. Sometimes our childhood memories surface for a reason. If this is indeed a painful childhood memory, it means that you are ready to face whatever lesson to learn from this.
It sounds a bit like my childhood also. I believe many of us on AD have had much adversity, otherwise we wouldn't write such fantastic poetry. That is what this poem is absolutely fantastic!!!
Peace, light and love,
Amber |
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| Reviewed by Rose Rideout |
4/19/2012 |
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This sounds like a very sad memory Jude.
Rose |
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| Reviewed by JASMIN HORST SEILER |
4/19/2012 |
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| Cold hard glitz and glitter, ice on a lonesome heart, you have to wonder how and why we experience our being in our way, bless ya Jude. |
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| Reviewed by Ed Matlack |
4/19/2012 |
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| Seems another dream, albeit a sad one...e |
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| Reviewed by Christine Alwin |
4/19/2012 |
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| Jude, This is amazing work, it sure tugged at my heart, emotions rain~ |
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| Reviewed by Andy Turner |
4/19/2012 |
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The feel that this poem emanates, describes perfectly how I view Manhattan. Spec' when I've been there in the winter.
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| Reviewed by Mr. Ed |
4/19/2012 |
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| Such sad winter memories. I hope other seasons have better ones. |
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| Reviewed by John Flanagan |
4/19/2012 |
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this tears at the reader, Jude,
and i won't presume to say it did and does
at the poet but i have a strong sense it's
very personal...and powerful and delivered
with great commitment
john |
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| Reviewed by Jerry Bolton |
4/19/2012 |
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| I think you have,at one point in your eternal wandering, Jude, visited my home in the southern part of Arkansas. I am sure of it, because you have described it so perfectly. |
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| Reviewed by T Jett |
4/18/2012 |
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| I felt the sadness in this poem, Jude ... Cheers to making beautiful memories, sweets ... |
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| Reviewed by E T Waldron |
4/18/2012 |
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Wow Jude! That's a cold harsh image you've painted,very empty and sad!
I'd forget that memory(;-...Hugs, Eileen |
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