Thursday, November 24, 2005

Sun's Last Grace Comments

Rating: 4.8

Your hands smell of wood shavings, sun's last grace.
That tawny essence fills all empty space.
I scarcely hear you talk of southbound birds.
Time has gone far beyond the mood of words.
...
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Sandra Fowler
COMMENTS
Khairul Ahsan 20 July 2013

Leaves whisper, hello, hello to the waiting grass. Aha, Aha! You are truly gifted, my dear poet!

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John Oconnell 16 May 2010

Absolutely astrounding! You are so gifted. Thanks.

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Cindy Kreiner Sera 23 May 2009

Reading in total admiration, you have a unique way of expressing yourself as only the very gifted can do.Your Poems are what we need on this planet Sandra. Thank you.

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Patricia Gale 11 November 2008

Stunning work, the imagery takes you along the path.

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Cyclopseven R 01 May 2007

I am fighting hard to be part of that scenario that your mind produces. Wonderful.

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Esther Leclerc 15 January 2007

This is art............

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Duncan Wyllie 29 December 2006

This is a timeless piece, an essence of past moments caught by your finely skilled hand Thankyou Sandra Love duncan X

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R H 20 May 2006

I love the way you have captured the mood in this poem Sandra. Each line and rhyme flows so beautifully to the next, your writing is seamless. Warmest wishes, Justine.

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Jolanta Gradowicz 14 May 2006

It's very good, very picturesque and very inspiring.

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Nimal Dunuhinga 29 March 2006

The poem almost a whisper of a secret twitter bird.............she sings alone in a thick bush........beware of cruel hunters!

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John Tiong Chunghoo 23 March 2006

lovely poem, sandra.

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Kelly marie Berry 03 March 2006

i really think it was good i got a picture of it as i read it keep it up kelly

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Willow Moon Pearce 08 February 2006

Lovely poem Sandra. I love the special touches...............regards.............willow

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Mary Nagy 03 December 2005

I love the images Sandra! There is nothing more beautiful in my eyes than nature. Very lovely poem. Sincerely, Mary

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Rajaram Ramachandran 24 November 2005

Again your thoughts in this poem revolve round the flying birds, fallen leaves, frosting glass, waiting grass, circling smoke and so on. If you come out and go beyond these objects, you may find better things more attrative to your eyes, that will form your popular theme for the next poems to come. Three cheers to you and go ahead writing nice poems like this one.

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Sandra Fowler

Sandra Fowler

W. Columbia, WV, USA
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