Sunday, October 4, 2015

The Prize Comments

Rating: 4.8

Flip the pillow to the cool side, kick the blanket from the bed.

Why sleep to chase a dream, he chose to hold his prize instead.
...
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Edmund Strolis
COMMENTS
Galina Italyanskaya 24 October 2017

A lovely, dynamic and inspiring poem. Thank you for sharing!

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Glen Kappy 20 June 2017

i like it, edmund! but i hasten to say that growing up in new york city when i did i was a giants fan, and my favorite player (favorite sports hero of all time) was/is willie mays. i used to have arguments with friends about who was the greater. no comparison! but what a thrill to catch a homer- especially one from one so prominent- even if he was a yankee(!) -glen

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Denis Mair 31 March 2017

This reminds me of a time in boyhood when my mother bought me a pair of hiking boots. I put them next to my bed, and they gave me waking dreams of places I would go.

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Madathil Rajendran Nair 22 August 2016

The fervor of youth and game with the towering image of legendary Mantle is beautifully captured in this well-rhymed poem of yours with great economy of words. We, the Indian rabble, have done this with our cricket legends too. If you have time, please read my Ode To Sachin.

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Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar 17 July 2016

the style of expression and the way of construction strike me. i liked reading it.

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Susan Williams 06 March 2016

You caught it! ! ! My girls played softball from their elementary years through high school and yes! you captured that moment of glory when they caught that special fly ball, that ball that would have been a home run, that saved the game! Of course they never caught a ball hit by a famous legend but at that moment in their life they experienced that taste of glory and they never see a ball game without those memories coursing through their blood again. You so caught this in verse. Thank you.

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Marianne Reninger 30 January 2016

Another poet that paints pictures! Loved it Edmund and I've just begun to read your work. My grandson is now playing ball and I could touch, feel, every word. Thanks!

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Edward Kofi Louis 26 December 2015

The game of life. Nice work.

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even after decades sometimes memories of a hot summer day on the greens hitting the ball can bring forth a sigh or smile and we feel the best part of life is indeed over. great write.....

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Edmund Strolis 26 October 2015

Oh I know all too well what you feel. I am also glad to know that the same spirit holds true from the baseball field to the cricket green. Youth with inexhaustible lungs and tireless legs. The long days of summer seemed to be an eternity.......ahhhhh yes.

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........of that hot and hazy summers day A flood of memories that won't go away...... Ah! this poem took me back in time...the good old days when we were not addicted to gadgets/computers etc but enjoyed the breeze, the blue skies, the wack of the ball or even the hurt in the fall. Great poem sir.

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Pamela Sinicrope 05 October 2015

You've captured so many aspects of youth that I treasure in my memories and I observe in watching my boys grow up... The cool side of the pillow, the grass-stained hands, the dirty nails and tangled hair. Who needs sleep when you can be out playing? Did he catch a baseball?

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Pamela Sinicrope 05 October 2015

I wrote out a long comment on this, but then got the message not allowed to comment. Test...

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Edmund Strolis 05 October 2015

My computer is on the Fritz.......not sure if that is politically incorrect. I am sure that I don't care. I had to copy and paste the reply above and that is how it turned out-scattered. Hither and yon. I noticed that the quotation marks are all missing too. Not cooooooool. I can screw up my own grammar and punctuation just fine without the assistance of this computer! Time to re-boot.

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