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Once again
Spring is at our doorsteps.
Morning showers awashed with sunshine.
More shining faces in the street cafes.
Hopes kept in winter coat pockets arisen.
A silent music whistled by the soft breezes.
Hundred different reasons for unspoken words.
Life is once again gift wrapped.
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Dear John, thanks for your comments, I did made some changes regarding to your proposals in both poems. But kept some things as it was, although we upload here to get the help of others to improve our work, many times I become like a over protective mother about my poems and cant be to keen about changes on them. But I am glad you read them and enjoyed at least. Kazakhstan must be a real different experience for you and sure you will come out with some good work out of it. Take care.
Fureya |
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| I think this is one of the nicest of yours I've read so far. Try "with" instead of "by", "steet" instead of "the street", "in the street" instead of "at the street". Very digestable images, and delicious sounding words. Maybe try to restructure line 4 - I was thinking maybe "winter coat pocketed hopes...". I like this poem, and miss the English Spring - here is Kazakhstan it just gets hotter and dustier... |
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