Shalom King Arthur,
Your poem rings an emotional chord – a poet who suffered from terrible a
disease forgets his brilliant verse.
A couple of comments below.
kol tuv, Ryfkah
In a message dated 08.18.03 7:33:37 AM, [log in to unmask] writes:
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“ I’ve had eighteen straight whiskies, I think that’s the record…..After 39
years this is all I’ve done. “ Last words Dylan Thomas; died Nov 1953
You roused the echoes of this world with words; [this line grabs this reader
who wants to know more]
staggered through Swansea, where your voice’s harp [voice harp?]
plucked chords that strummed through owl -lit woods, [owled? I love making
up words :-) ]
across the sea and down the dusty dark. [like the alliteration]
You stumbled blind home [the order sounds not right – shrug], mouth
beer-swilled and round [how about skipping "and round"?]
with verse that swept and rolled the wild nights through
as chapel choirs from the blue hills resound [like this double simile and the
repetition of blue]
or lark mounting up the song-buckled blue.
Caitlin you folded to your thundered chest
and slung her tender through your nightmare time.
That terrible thirst begged its last drink, cursed [kind of weird
construction; sounds ok but reads awkwardly]
you, laid you long in the gutter, then came
death through your fuddled daze, your last song spilled,
honey-tongue stiffened and poetry stilled. [wonderful end line like the long
dead poet]
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