Comments for Poem Day

Comment on The Writing Room [36] by poem a day

poem a day — Tue, 16 Mar 2010 14:13:04 +0000

[...] … Footnotes in Gaza is a real beast of a book. His absolute masterpiece and one of the best …The Writing Room [36] Poem a DayPoem a Day. working out does not always smell good, nor is it always … of a dark theater, my [...]

Comment on Crazy Yoga Head [65] by mark

mark — Sat, 13 Mar 2010 12:30:31 +0000

Yeah a lot of these poem a day ones are just thrown out to get the day’s deed done.

Comment on Crazy Yoga Head [65] by noelle

noelle — Fri, 12 Mar 2010 19:10:45 +0000

I like it. At first I thought that this was the back of someone’s skull oddly shaped with no hair! It is a nice simple poem about something you do each day. I like the “adams apple bobbing” and being “centered” as the “new learned state”.

Comment on You Again [64] by mark

mark — Fri, 12 Mar 2010 06:17:16 +0000

Thank you Noelle. I wish I could have devoted more time to this one.

Comment on You Again [64] by noelle

noelle — Thu, 11 Mar 2010 17:16:46 +0000

Well, I must comment on the last stanza because it is breathtaking. It is almost a poem by itself, a testament of hope, self-awareness, the vision of wholeness (quaternity). Very beautiful.

Comment on The Ragged Sleeve of Youth [63] by mark

mark — Thu, 11 Mar 2010 02:38:14 +0000

Funny – I thought of Ozy when I saw this picture, too. That deserves a lot more than what this poem did, though. I’m very happy the cyclic theme came out!

Comment on The Ragged Sleeve of Youth [63] by noelle

noelle — Wed, 10 Mar 2010 20:50:10 +0000

This reminds me of the toppling of the statue of Hussein in Iraq. It also reminds me of the poem Ozymandias by Shelley. I love the cyclical theme of youth, freshness, then the jaw set, burdened by age and the sense of a future with narrowing choices followed by another cycle of youth standing in judgement of those now aging. So true.

Comment on Past Visiting Hours [15] by mark

mark — Sun, 17 Jan 2010 13:36:00 +0000

I missed the midnight deadline for this poem (haiku) to be considered part of that day, technically.

Instead, I slap down my poetic license to decree days are not determined by the spinning of the Earth, but instead by when I wake and when I sleep.