Comments received on poems by sorenbarrett
Song of a siren
Goldfinch60 said:
Wonderful words of lust and seduction for blood soren.
Andy
February 26th, 2024 02:20
Goldfinch60 said:
Wonderful words of lust and seduction for blood soren.
Andy
February 26th, 2024 02:20
Song of a siren
Doggerel Dave said:
Soren, if you keep on like this , I\'m going to have to have my GP re-evaluate my BP medication - in the meantime I\'m going to enjoy it while I can...
A well crafted write.
February 25th, 2024 05:24
Doggerel Dave said:
Soren, if you keep on like this , I\'m going to have to have my GP re-evaluate my BP medication - in the meantime I\'m going to enjoy it while I can...
A well crafted write.
February 25th, 2024 05:24
Song of a siren
Cloie said:
Your poem dives deep into the tangled web of desire with such vivid imagery! It\'s like a rollercoaster of emotions and sensations. Keep weaving those words!
February 25th, 2024 05:13
Cloie said:
Your poem dives deep into the tangled web of desire with such vivid imagery! It\'s like a rollercoaster of emotions and sensations. Keep weaving those words!
February 25th, 2024 05:13
Song of a siren
Teddy.15 said:
Sounds to me someone\'s blood is being drained, a gothic feel and magnificent imagery song of a siren indeed kudos. 🌹 🦇
February 25th, 2024 04:44
Teddy.15 said:
Sounds to me someone\'s blood is being drained, a gothic feel and magnificent imagery song of a siren indeed kudos. 🌹 🦇
February 25th, 2024 04:44
Darkness Come
Goldfinch60 said:
Wonderful words soren but out of that darkness the light will be there for you and for all of us.
Andy
February 25th, 2024 01:59
Goldfinch60 said:
Wonderful words soren but out of that darkness the light will be there for you and for all of us.
Andy
February 25th, 2024 01:59
Darkness Come
orchidee said:
Can ya put a light on? I can\'t see a thing in the dark! lol.
February 24th, 2024 08:43
orchidee said:
Can ya put a light on? I can\'t see a thing in the dark! lol.
February 24th, 2024 08:43
Darkness Come
Teddy.15 said:
Another outstanding poem, none can escape the hands of Death but your words make it in a strange way exciting.
Buried in the tomb of forgetfulness
Washed in waters of fantasy
Cleansed in the fires of regretful stress
Left clothed so scantily
Love this stanza but your ending is superb too. 🌹
February 24th, 2024 08:20
Teddy.15 said:
Another outstanding poem, none can escape the hands of Death but your words make it in a strange way exciting.
Buried in the tomb of forgetfulness
Washed in waters of fantasy
Cleansed in the fires of regretful stress
Left clothed so scantily
Love this stanza but your ending is superb too. 🌹
February 24th, 2024 08:20
Sundial
Goldfinch60 said:
Good one soren, time is so timeless in our lives.
Andy
February 24th, 2024 02:41
Goldfinch60 said:
Good one soren, time is so timeless in our lives.
Andy
February 24th, 2024 02:41
Sundial
Goldfinch60 said:
Good one soren, time is so timeless in our lives.
Andy
February 24th, 2024 02:26
Goldfinch60 said:
Good one soren, time is so timeless in our lives.
Andy
February 24th, 2024 02:26
Sundial
Bella Shepard said:
We can\'t control it, we can only watch as it passes. But we feel the need to constantly measure it. Incredible write my friend, each stanza a facet of that which we can never hold onto.
February 23rd, 2024 15:47
Bella Shepard said:
We can\'t control it, we can only watch as it passes. But we feel the need to constantly measure it. Incredible write my friend, each stanza a facet of that which we can never hold onto.
February 23rd, 2024 15:47
Sundial
Doggerel Dave said:
\"time and tide wait for no man\" - yours a much richer explanation, Soren.
(If you happen to like thrillers as a means of relaxation try \'The Lost Man\' By Jane Harper.)
February 23rd, 2024 09:04
Doggerel Dave said:
\"time and tide wait for no man\" - yours a much richer explanation, Soren.
(If you happen to like thrillers as a means of relaxation try \'The Lost Man\' By Jane Harper.)
February 23rd, 2024 09:04
Sundial
orchidee said:
A fine write SB. Do sundials know when the clocks go back/forward?
I been struggling with this dang iron sundial, trying to put it back an hour, but it won\'t budge! lol.
February 23rd, 2024 06:45
orchidee said:
A fine write SB. Do sundials know when the clocks go back/forward?
I been struggling with this dang iron sundial, trying to put it back an hour, but it won\'t budge! lol.
February 23rd, 2024 06:45
Sundial
Teddy.15 said:
Kudos especially for the imagery and your last lines just superb, love the vision at the end it gave me the shivers 🌹 I\'ve always been fascinated with time and clocks but sundials especially, we ha e some pretty special ones here in Tuscany.
February 23rd, 2024 04:22
Teddy.15 said:
Kudos especially for the imagery and your last lines just superb, love the vision at the end it gave me the shivers 🌹 I\'ve always been fascinated with time and clocks but sundials especially, we ha e some pretty special ones here in Tuscany.
February 23rd, 2024 04:22
Dungeon of time
Teddy.15 said:
Absolutely beautiful, loved every line every image and every bit of emotion, may I say you are one of my all time favourite poets sir. 🌹
February 22nd, 2024 11:15
Teddy.15 said:
Absolutely beautiful, loved every line every image and every bit of emotion, may I say you are one of my all time favourite poets sir. 🌹
February 22nd, 2024 11:15
Dungeon of time
Soman Ragavan said:
My comments on the poem \"Dungeon of time” by sorenbarrett
This is a compact poem of just eight lines, but packed with meanings that have to be distilled. Poetry is already a condensed form of writing that needs to be expanded, unpacked, paraphrased. Some poems are more condensed than others.
--“losses’ well” : the losses have their well, depths into which memories and stories sink. They are deep wells.
--\"memories are drawn…” : memories that are hidden or untold so far. They have to be brought alive again through the art of the poet.
--“spilled on dusty ground” : the memories are spilled on the ground, but they are not yet available for common mortals to see and understand.
--\"I am muddied…” : the poet is splashed with the dirt from the memories
--“splattered with its stain of pain…” : the memories have stains, and they are stains of pain and suffering.
--“its cleanliness gone…” : illusion is personified; it is given a life.
--“my clothed illusion bloodied…” : the illusion is not something that can be seen outright; it hides behind clothes. The illusion ends up being bloodied, not only shattered, but ends up tainted as well.
--“Under clear skies….” : under clear skies there are no rains, for rains need clouds from which they fall.
--“no clouds of forgetfulness’ rains…” : these are rains that come from forgetfulness.
--“that wash away emptiness’ grime…” : rains (that did not come) that have to power to wash away the dirt from emptiness. Emptiness has dirt that needs to be washed away.
--“rusting imprisoning chains…” : chains tie us down, jail us, but they fall in due course to corrosion and rust; in the final act of rusting, the chains fall apart and give liberation. The rusting process will lead to final liberation.
--“Locked in the dungeon of time…” : time is a dungeon that imprisons people. It is difficult to get out of a dungeon. It is even more difficult to get out of the dungeon of time. You get the feeling that you keep turning in circles. Life in a dungeon is morose, depressing. It wears you down. See the poem “The Prisoner of Chillon” by Gordon Byron (1788-1824). Soman Ragavan. 22 February, 2024.
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February 22nd, 2024 06:02
Soman Ragavan said:
My comments on the poem \"Dungeon of time” by sorenbarrett
This is a compact poem of just eight lines, but packed with meanings that have to be distilled. Poetry is already a condensed form of writing that needs to be expanded, unpacked, paraphrased. Some poems are more condensed than others.
--“losses’ well” : the losses have their well, depths into which memories and stories sink. They are deep wells.
--\"memories are drawn…” : memories that are hidden or untold so far. They have to be brought alive again through the art of the poet.
--“spilled on dusty ground” : the memories are spilled on the ground, but they are not yet available for common mortals to see and understand.
--\"I am muddied…” : the poet is splashed with the dirt from the memories
--“splattered with its stain of pain…” : the memories have stains, and they are stains of pain and suffering.
--“its cleanliness gone…” : illusion is personified; it is given a life.
--“my clothed illusion bloodied…” : the illusion is not something that can be seen outright; it hides behind clothes. The illusion ends up being bloodied, not only shattered, but ends up tainted as well.
--“Under clear skies….” : under clear skies there are no rains, for rains need clouds from which they fall.
--“no clouds of forgetfulness’ rains…” : these are rains that come from forgetfulness.
--“that wash away emptiness’ grime…” : rains (that did not come) that have to power to wash away the dirt from emptiness. Emptiness has dirt that needs to be washed away.
--“rusting imprisoning chains…” : chains tie us down, jail us, but they fall in due course to corrosion and rust; in the final act of rusting, the chains fall apart and give liberation. The rusting process will lead to final liberation.
--“Locked in the dungeon of time…” : time is a dungeon that imprisons people. It is difficult to get out of a dungeon. It is even more difficult to get out of the dungeon of time. You get the feeling that you keep turning in circles. Life in a dungeon is morose, depressing. It wears you down. See the poem “The Prisoner of Chillon” by Gordon Byron (1788-1824). Soman Ragavan. 22 February, 2024.
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February 22nd, 2024 06:02
Wind in a jar
Goldfinch60 said:
Wonderful imagery and imagination soren, I am quite happy with what I have at present thank you.
Andy
February 22nd, 2024 02:26
Goldfinch60 said:
Wonderful imagery and imagination soren, I am quite happy with what I have at present thank you.
Andy
February 22nd, 2024 02:26
Wind in a jar
Teddy.15 said:
Wow so original and so brilliant in imagery although I\'m hoping the wind in the jar is from the park 🤣 lol brilliant my dear sorenbarret 🌹
February 21st, 2024 09:52
Teddy.15 said:
Wow so original and so brilliant in imagery although I\'m hoping the wind in the jar is from the park 🤣 lol brilliant my dear sorenbarret 🌹
February 21st, 2024 09:52
Wind in a jar
2781 said:
We\'ve all got to go-what more can a man do but to eat, drink, and enjoy the fruits of his labour.
February 21st, 2024 06:55
2781 said:
We\'ve all got to go-what more can a man do but to eat, drink, and enjoy the fruits of his labour.
February 21st, 2024 06:55
Sparrow
Goldfinch60 said:
No matter how wet they get sparrows will live and fly in the sunshine soren.
Andy
February 21st, 2024 02:23
Goldfinch60 said:
No matter how wet they get sparrows will live and fly in the sunshine soren.
Andy
February 21st, 2024 02:23
Sparrow
Teddy.15 said:
This screams determination to me, a stunning piece of imagery and a glorious ending. I do believe we all have these wings and we can all take flight in metaphor at least. 🌹
February 20th, 2024 05:38
Teddy.15 said:
This screams determination to me, a stunning piece of imagery and a glorious ending. I do believe we all have these wings and we can all take flight in metaphor at least. 🌹
February 20th, 2024 05:38
Sparrow
Soman Ragavan said:
My comments on the poem \"Sparrow” by sorenbarrett
Birds live a rough life, out in the wild, or even on people’s premises. The nests are not waterproof. The birds get drenched in rains. Newborn ones don’t even have feathers. Imagine what they go through in the rains… The nests are buffetted about during strong winds.
From my poem “The hungry sparrow” written on 1 March, 1995 :
“The birds and their nests be buffet\'d about,
While, hither, the little kids shriek and shout;
Utterly drench\'d, the poor birds shake,
While their babies cry and stay awake…”
“The baby birds plead touchingly for some food :
But, there be yet no change in nature\'s mood;
The howling winds mercilessly strike terror
Into these birds that do shake with horror….”
“Flapping bravely their wings, so wet and sleek,
The poor birds venture out, some food to seek.
These forlorn chirpings : how heart-rending !
To whom be meant these calls so distressing ?
Would ye, birds, manage finally to stay alive ?
After some food would ye struggle and strive ?”
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Soman Ragavan. 20 February, 2024.
February 20th, 2024 05:00
Soman Ragavan said:
My comments on the poem \"Sparrow” by sorenbarrett
Birds live a rough life, out in the wild, or even on people’s premises. The nests are not waterproof. The birds get drenched in rains. Newborn ones don’t even have feathers. Imagine what they go through in the rains… The nests are buffetted about during strong winds.
From my poem “The hungry sparrow” written on 1 March, 1995 :
“The birds and their nests be buffet\'d about,
While, hither, the little kids shriek and shout;
Utterly drench\'d, the poor birds shake,
While their babies cry and stay awake…”
“The baby birds plead touchingly for some food :
But, there be yet no change in nature\'s mood;
The howling winds mercilessly strike terror
Into these birds that do shake with horror….”
“Flapping bravely their wings, so wet and sleek,
The poor birds venture out, some food to seek.
These forlorn chirpings : how heart-rending !
To whom be meant these calls so distressing ?
Would ye, birds, manage finally to stay alive ?
After some food would ye struggle and strive ?”
----------
Soman Ragavan. 20 February, 2024.
February 20th, 2024 05:00
Inconsistencies
Goldfinch60 said:
Strong words soren, I just cannot understand why ANYONE can harm children for whatever reason.
Andy
February 20th, 2024 02:01
Goldfinch60 said:
Strong words soren, I just cannot understand why ANYONE can harm children for whatever reason.
Andy
February 20th, 2024 02:01
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