11-10-2013, 11:54 PM 
	
	
	
		Well, I've been reading this, and do see one thing you probably may want to consider. I think there may be some confusion when you transition fro this day to you. I'll make one minor adjustment to the strophe breaks below that may fix it.
Best,
Todd
	
	
(11-10-2013, 01:05 AM)beaufort Wrote: Would appreciate feedback on this poem. Thanks.Just a thought.
This is edited based on feedback
Old Age
This day dwells in darkness, doubting itself,
And when night falls no one notices –
Not the black dog sleeping in the alley,
His twitching feet running in dreams;
Not the languid lovers behind striped curtains,
Mistaking the other’s limbs for their own;
Not even the bright-bloused lilies,
Their thin necks straining upward,
Like shorts-clad tourists in the town.
This day, weary of countless demands,
Full of encumbrances,
Has worn you to the edge of life.
While no one was watching, you dwindled away.
Your languor, listless like the days,
Your curtained eyes unfocused.
Like the evening dreading the sunset
You linger and gasp,
Bending down towards the night of mourning
Best,
Todd
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
	

 

