| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Charlie Morgan on 12/09/12 at 02:52 AM ...hahahaha, too cool, 'you could have a warm blanket of dirt'...delightfully put my man, delightful. |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 12/09/12 at 04:35 AM Yup, I'm with Charlie - you know you're still with us when the funny bone still works. Thanks, George. |
| Posted by Glenn Currier on 12/11/12 at 02:52 PM Poems about aging seem to be sprinkled all around me these days. I am glad. This one is a sapling creating a smile, a chuckle, and new life in at least one codger. Thanks buddy. |
| Posted by Glenn Currier on 12/11/12 at 08:43 PM Making fun of that warm blanket and its proximity - what a guy! John Donne doesn't have a thing on you. I like the way you just tip your hat to the inevitable approach and wink at it as if to wrinkle its awesomeness. Thanks, George. |
| Posted by Max Bouillet on 12/16/12 at 03:21 PM The wramth of the grave and the cold associated with living is a very intriguing juxtaposition. It indicates a change in the heart that one is beginning to lose the fear of death --and perhaps is developing a fear of life. |
| Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 12/17/12 at 12:21 PM a lovely ode, George. such is my luck that by the time it is my turn to wear such a blanket, erosion will have stolen my thunder and my right to do so. |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 12/17/12 at 12:23 PM Wow! Wasn't expecting that ending. Good poem!! |
| Posted by Johanna May on 01/06/13 at 06:06 PM The truth smells as distinct as the last line stanza here. Honest. xx |
| Posted by Gail Wolper on 01/25/13 at 04:21 AM There is something really apprealing about this understated poem. I like it!!! |
| Posted by Sam Roberts on 01/28/13 at 03:36 PM love it, especially the opening. I like the imagery of wind biting bones :)
well done! |
| Posted by Uriel Tovar on 06/14/13 at 10:13 PM geez this was a great read. |
