All things Vintage

Adam L.

I have not read a poem of yours this personal in a long time. The best poems come out when we're in the bottom of the pit and in the middle of the night. Sweet Lis, as cathartic and simply beautiful these lines are, I pray you rise and feel better.

Michael Chad Cleary

I was most intrigued by the choice to go with two lines for the last statement. It was as though your heart simply ran out of words. I think that is a very vivid way to convey to the reader the exhausting emotion felt by the writer. It's a rare thing to be able to do that in my opinion. Very heartfelt.

Mike Stevens

Another fine poem, JB, and yes, writing helps, somehow

olive tree

Damn. Keep doing whatever you're doing!

TheUndyingDarkSoul

The night brings us dreams, but most of the time, the dream is the nightmare, and the nightmare is the dream. Your mind is different at night, and those sleepness nights are not kind. Sometimes just writing at that time of the night is important, because when you wake up, those words will be long gone. Our demons will always invade at any moment, and it is hard to shut them out. Instead of letting the demons write the words for you, find it in your heart to write them yourself. Very personal Lisbeth. Hope in the morning, you rise like a sunrise, and see blue skies. Great wording and rhyming again. Excellent work.

KateWrites

This is very well crafted, beautifully and meaningfully written. It's amazing how we can hold on to pain indefinitely and yet the positive experience and their memory seems so fleeting. I hope writing serves to help you work through these emotions, experiences and memories.

Raven Akuma

This is such a beautiful poem, I'm still amazed you can put such a harrowing and crippling state of mind into words. It's certainly a reminder that poetry is a form of art and expression, and as with any form of those things, it can also be a cure. And you, Jaylisbeth, certainly have a very talented hand. Incredible work, here :)

KateWrites

That's lovely - I'm delighted that it landed that way.

En Raiter

Whew some poetry is like being in an elevator, which is good it can take you up and down, but there are some of this tribe gifted with the pen that makes one feel as if it is more apt to describe it as being on a wonkavator.

"The Wonkavator can go Sideways and Slantways, long ways, back ways, and square ways and any other ways you can think of."

The Poets rips themselves apart but oh what a beautiful sound that shredding makes to the ears of those that can hear the tree fall in the forest. We don't split silently, you Poetess timber graciously.

Spyguy

To touch a heart, they say, divine!
So you, my Dear, a heavenly sign ~
Lonely, sad, dejected sometimes...
You still rule the world w/your rhymes!

don bryant

I have just read your poem for the third time, and am so stunned by it, I haven't moved. As someone prone to depression, I absorbed your desperate words like a dry sponge. The impaired heart line really resonated with me; never thinking it will work properly again, or provide the comforts that only a pure heart can. So often our hearts are damaged through no fault of our own-- because we dared to love and trust, when others may not have ventured that far out where they were vulnerable. As I once wrote in a story "when hearts get shattered, you can never find all the pieces, no matter how hard you look for them. They are never whole again, and neither are you." A similar premise, as you can see. Your closing line astounded me--that your ?? will be the death of you someday. I have often felt the same way about mine.
Thank you for writing this, and I sincerely hope it helps your wounds close up faster. You really touched me with this. You projected your state of mind onto the reader, which only an extremely talented writer is capable of doing. And you are. Thanks again, it really helped. Happy New Year!