Old News Comments

A lone, nostalgic whistle in the hills, Tells me our train has come, the moment chills...great expression dear Sandra. It's a brilliant poem.

tender, heartbreaking.... almost cinematic

I'm putting this one right next to one of Emily Dickinson's epigrams. 'What Miracles the News is! Not Bismark but ourselves.'

It elicits a gentle chuckle from me that I do not understand but enjoy. Bill Grace

I'm a little late finding this one Sandra, it's all been said. I'll add you are an exceptional poet and I enjoy your work. Thanks for the wonderful read Sandra. --Melvina--

This has a mood that strikes me as both intimate and timeless. Very wistful and meticulously crafted.

10 / 10 lovley poem sandre i wish i could have some of your talent.... love abi.

A wonderfully lyrical poem that stirs the senses each in turn. Your observations on the passing of time are so beautifully captured.Justine.

Great poem Sandra.... full of senses in life's panorama! Thanks for bringing joy. Regards.

Fantastic write, as ever Misss Fowler.. It pains me that summer has almost gone. But i smile again knowing that firey autumn is almost here. Hugs Nix xxx

Can I echoe what Will said, please? Sigh.... brilliant. Brilliant S. t x

Like a beautiful leisurely walk across a fragrant meadow, you say what can be said and leave the ineffable in the silence between your lines. This silence ensures that nothing is left unsaid. Take care

A stunning poem, Sandra. The images of the vanishing summer, the upturned collar - these resonate with the passing train that is our life. Your Tuesday poems resonate on all days of the week. We autumn souls well understand your imagery. Every autumn is a victory, as the light balances the dark, and still we look forward to sunsets, however bleary-eyed age has made us. The smoke may hug the ground, but your kind ministrations lift us upward, our collars tweaked, our prayers offered to each other. - Will .

Lovely poem, I like the rhythm you have here, it really helps convey the 'end of summer'feeling, that laziness, that apprenhension of the coming September. Favorite line: So little left of summer to dream on

The setting, the words, and the mood create the right flavour, as usual.

Melancholy with warmth. Yes melancholy that makes the reader smile in recognition and at the same time marvel at the beauty of your powers of description. Such economy of words, such a perfect blend of the natural world and the human heart. Again, I am in awe. love, Allie xxxx

If only our best of times could be capsulized, and revisited on command...what a better life and world this would be...This is a beautiful piece of work, young lass, cradled with emotional verve, and staunch image...Another gem from the Fowler collection of literary pleasance... ~ ~ ~

It's always new Sandra's heartfelt news.Good luck!

Every moment, the present becomes the dead past, yielding place to the new future to stay as present. Like this, the Time runs fast and waits for none. In between these past, present and future, the world brings so many episodes to the forefront, of which what you say in your poem is the one that jumps up before my eyes. You have a natural taste to connect every known and unknown things on the earth through your classical poems. Every line has a deep meaning to dig out, to be understood.

As ever, your images are impressive but not as impressive as your melancholy heart keeping rhythm with the sad song of fleeting time. Uriah