Can you rate my poem?
Softly, in the dusk, a woman is singing to me;
Taking me back down the vista of years, till I see
A child sitting under the piano, in the boom of the tingling strings
And pressing the small, poised feet of a mother who smiles as she sings.
In spite of myself, the insidious mastery of song
Betrays me back, till the heart of me weeps to belong
To the old Sunday evenings at home, with winter outside
And hymns in the cosy parlour, the tinkling piano our guide.
So now it is vain for the singer to burst into clamour
With the great black piano appassionato. The glamour
Of childish days is upon me, my manhood is cast
Down in the flood of remembrance, I weep like a child for the past.
- TinaLv 71 year agoFavourite answer
It's by D H Lawrence.
- ☼ GƖơώ ✞ Ѡɪηǥs ☼Lv 75 months ago
Needs a little proof-reading and correction is needed to better enhance or emphasize the moving parts; boy-mother, music -(vibration, polarity and rhythm and, cause and effect); ["Kybalion"] Feelings play into this with 'balance'. Everything else is as adjectives in a sentence.
Sadly not fleeting as, the past must remain 'there'. We must move ever forward. :D
- Jay RLv 71 year ago
- Noah ThallLv 61 year ago
Off to a good start. It could use more subtlety I think, less telling of feelings and more showing of feelings.
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- PearlLv 71 year ago
i think its a good poern