Catamorandi's comments

Catamorandi's comments from the ¡ POETRY ! group.

Note: Catamorandi is no longer a member of this group.

WL,

I really like what you are doing with the story right now. I think that you will do a good job turning it into a poem, as witnessed with your first attempt. However, I agree that you need spellcheck and also a friend or someone to proofread it before you post it. I think Ruth gave you some good ideas to go with. The idea of a prose poem is also interesting.

RAIN IN MY HEART

The soft petals continue to fall
As the gentle rain falls in my heart.
Drip.
Drop.
Drip.
Drop.
The beautiful rose loses
more and more petals,
And the rain is a steady stream.

How could he do this to me?
How could he leave me?
The rain is coming faster and faster
Like the tears running down my face.
Drip.
Drop.
Drip.
Drop.
Suddenly the rain turns into a downpour
Leaving my heart with trouble beating.

Here comes the storm.
The lightning rips at my heart
As the thunder rolls over my heart.

Will this storm ever stop?
Not until he comes back.
I hope my heart can weather this storm.

Randi

Congratulations, Marian.

Congratulations, Pamela!

Welcome David.

Congratulations, Tara.

8/18/08 — 1794 characters — 1 person liked it — 1 review
Every morning,
I am awestruck
by the palette of colors
from the rising of the sun.
They are brilliant and bold,
yet soft and gentle
at the same time.
There are reds,oranges,blues,
yellows, pinks, and purples
sweeping across the sky.

The mountain peaks
are of a purplish color.
The mountains stand there
majestically daring anything,
except astral objects
in the sky,
to be higher than them.
The peaks stand with
a snowy layer that lasts most of the year.

As we head grocery shopping,
the car gets closer and
nearer to the mountains.
The ride is a crap shoot
whether you will come back alive.
It whirls and twirls like girls
throwing a baton.
The thoroughfare also undulated
like a roller coaster.
Some guy is passing us on the
path at a much too dangerous speed.

As we go further and further
up the mountain,
we see a beautiful green covering of trees.
Pine trees abound,
with their sharp, little green needles
in a swirling pattern around the trees.
There are also the pine cones
with tan layers upon dark brown undercoats
in a somewhat triangular shape.
The aroma will make your sense of smell purr.
These trees go higher and higher
up the mountain,
but they are not near the peaks.

As we head back to the house,
there is the sun going down.
Once again there are a multitude
of spectacular colors.
There were blues, purples,
grays, pinks, oranges, and reds.
They form a swirling motion
much like stirring
the dough for cookies.

We returned home safe and sound.
I did what I have been
trying to do all day: respire.
It is hard to inhale
from higher elevation,
and as much as I try,
I never find a good breath of air.
I loved seeing my sister.
It was really a blast,
but I'd rather breathe than stay.

Randi

congratulations, nina.

Congratulations, Shaindel.

Congratulations, Malcolm. I think that it is great that your being published again.

Thank you, Malcolm, for your truthful, honest words, as always. I agree with you on this one. Actually, I usually do. I think that you could put down the boxing gloves and put on some kid gloves once and a while, but I do learn a lot from you. I wish you could be a little nicer about it sometimes, but that would be making you go against your philosophy, and I don't want to do that. This time you did take off your boxing gloves, and I appreciate that. You are usually right on the money, as far as what you say in your comments. Please excuse the cliches in this letter. I just noticed them, and I have neither the time nor the inclination to do anything about them right now. Your comments are there and good. I just wish you wouldn't hit my over the head with them. My brain is rattled enough already.

My new nickname is Randi, because there are too many Cats out there.

Randi (the last five letters of my moniker)

Thank you, everyone. I will work on your suggestions. I was afraid it was too prosey when I wrote it, but I wasn't sure. I will definitely work on making it more like a poem and separating it into several little poems. I think that both of those suggestions are very helpful. Thanks again.

Thanks for the suggestions, Trice. I think that everything you said is true, and I will work on it some more.

This is something totally different than I have done before, so I would like good, solid feedback on this one in particular. Thank you in advance.

Foothills in the Rockies

I awake and look outside.
I stand aghast at the
rising of the sun.
Nature is giving quite a show.
The colors are brilliant.
There are reds, oranges,
yellows, pinks, blues,
and purples riding in
the highway to the sky.

The mountaintops are beautiful.
I couldn't ask for a better picture.
From a distance, they look
like a series of peaks and valleys.
The peaks are pointing upwards
while the valleys are pointing down.
They really do appear to be purple.
They are snow-capped, which they
are pretty much all of the time.

As we head grocery shopping,
the car gets closer and
nearer to the mountains.
The ride is a crap shoot
whether you will come back alive.
It whirls and twirls like girls
throwing a baton.
The thoroughfare also undulated
like a roller coaster.
Some guy is passing us on the
path at a much too dangerous speed.

The greenery is beautiful the
closer we get to the alps,
the nearer we get to the foliage
of the slopes. The aroma will
take your breath away.
The odor of pines is all over
the eminence of the acclivity
of the peaks. They look like
fur trees (pines). They have green
pine needles all over them.
They also have a lot of
pine cones in addition.

As we head back to the house,
there is the sun going down.
Once again there are a multitude
of spectacular colors.
There were blues, purples,
grays, pinks, oranges, and reds.
They form a swirling motion
much like stirring
the dough for cookies.

We returned home safe and sound.
I did what I have been
trying to do all day: respire.
It is hard to inhale,
and as much as I try,
I never find a good breath of air.
I loved seeing my sister.
It was really a blast,
but I'd rather breathe than stay.

Cat

Can I or Can't I?

All of my life I have
been a negative creature,
the one with the half-empty glass.

Any time I want to do anything,
I almost always fail. You see
I bring on this total incompetence
by saying I can't, so I don't.

I have regularly accused Papa
for my misfortune with money
he made it flow from a money jar
into my hands when I wanted it.

When he died, I went into a
financial breakdown. I wound
up in a psychiatric establishment,
because I was stressed about money.
I told myself I couldn't
handle my finances, and I didn't.

I have a hard time dealing
with life and my fears.
I don't understand why I always
end up so dissatisfied with life.
It's something I have to live with.

I've once again readied
myself for collapse. I say I
can't manage my horrors,
which happened to worsen my fears.

I set myself up for ruin
every time that I say I can't,
because when I say that,
I almost never do.

All of a sudden
I understood what
everyone tried to tell me.
If I can't, I won't, but
if I can, I will.
It's just that simple.

Now everyone is telling me
it's not that uncomplicated.
Every time you say can, you might not,
and every time you say can't, you may,
but the large majority of the time
can't means won't, and can means will.

In the long run,
if you want to succeed,
you can't be a pessimist.
In order to advance in life,
you must be an optimist.

I am now endeavoring to see
the cup as half-full, but
I am having difficulty,
because I never knew
to think that way.

But if I want to win the fight,
I have to think I can.
There is more than half a chance
that I will usually thrive.

"I think I can! I think I can!
I think I have a plan!"
I'll say I can with every breath
and assume that I am going to.

I CAN face my worst nightmares.
I CAN manage my finances.
I CAN handle my friends and family.
I CAN become the writer I have
always wanted to be.
I CAN recover from mental illness.

I am now facing my apparitions,
and I am succeeding.
I am now managing my money
and am right with the bank.
I am standing up for myself
on a regular basis.
I am writing poems and novels.
I am coming closer and closer
to recovering.

It does work! It really does!
All of those people were right.
I don't believe how long I
laid in misery
when all I had to do was fight.

Cat

Trice,

I don't mean to sound like a broken record, but I love your poetry. I can always see what you are writing about. This one is no exception. Great job, Trice!!

Cat

This is fantastic!!

You're welcome, Trice. Keep up the good work!

Nina,

I like that idea. My library has ten of the series, and I am going to order all of them, one at a time.

You write very well. You are playing with your words. You are choosing the right words in the right situations. I love your work.