1.
Every piece of clothing
felt soaked with dread as I packed.
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When you read this comment Max, You'll know it came from someone who had you all figured wrong. I'll have to read more of your work now
Max, this is excellent. I detect an English influence in it; I think it is the theme. But that's just me. You present this coming-of-age more as a 'road' poem as if life were some highway that we do not know were it is going, and we do not know what it is we want from the journey, until it has finished. And the simplicity of our needs as if the jouney was something we need not have gone on or the total opposite. You seem express no elation at the end of the journey. It seems as if it is a shrug of the shoulders. Yes, this is certainlya fine piece Max and so well composed.
Beautiful and touching, Max. I couldn't help but chortle at the line 'If you can sell your writing...' which my father would have delivered with a heavy emphasis! As we used to say in the staffroom after half-term and chats with parents - 'Parents are the least suitable people to have children...'
Blessings on your head Max........in a blink of and eye and the time flies.....chapters fold and all that is left are memories.......but, people don't really die.....(not the ones we love) ....they leave their soul's with us. A well written poem with hearty sentiment~ You were blessed!
Honesty is the best but most difficult source of really good stuff, and there's no messing around with this one. My favorite line is the 'bridge of passage with missing slats.' It almost reads like a novel, which I dare say you should pursue in all sincerity.