Convection

You have some good, if disjointed to me, imagery.

And while not every poem has to tell a complete story, it should give us a complete thought and I feel this ends without a direction, meaning I do not know what you mean by it and I am not left wondering, I am left disappointed.

But, as I said, you have some excellent imagery in nearly every line. The exception is:

"like the wing of a dove"

This line I find disjointed and jarring. I am not sure a simile is best there because it weakens your presentation. I would prefer it to be stronger, something like:

"A cataclysm of broken hope."

The last two lines are good and are a natural ending but we need to know why the cloth is cleaned and why the stain remains. Since only you know what your intent is, I will not offer a suggestion, but as few as two more lines, giving us an insight into the conflict, would make this a better read.

There are some subjects in which what one can imagine is often even worse than what we might tell. This is such. I think your hints about the event are plenty enough and keeps this from being blatant. Hmmm..... do you think dried tears might work better than dewey ones?............stan

Loved this piece in its simplicity, the one main thing that spoilt it for me was the "Wolf" bit which is a blatant cliché, if you could replace this line with one from your own thoughts it would improve your write.
Take care, and lovely to see you back again, Yours Ian.T

Now this piece has become a very good write and your own words shine as a beacon to other.
Love your poem ref of the cat I have found the original that is written in Gaelic (Irish) in the 9th century:-

Messe [ocus] Pangur bán,
cechtar nathar fria saindán;
bíth a menma-sam fri seilgg,
mu menma céin im saincheirdd

Caraim-se fós, ferr cach clú,
oc mu lebrán léir ingnu;
ní foirmtech frimm Pangur bán,
caraid cesin a maccdán.

Ó ru-biam ­ scél cén scis ­
innar tegdias ar n-oéndis,
táithiunn ­ dichríchide clius ­
ní fris 'tarddam ar n-áthius.

Gnáth-huaraib ar greassaib gal
glenaid luch ina lín-sam;
os me, du-fuit im lín chéin
dliged ndoraid cu n-dronchéill.

Fúachaid-sem fri freaga fál
a rosc a nglése comlán;
fúachimm chéin fri fégi fis
mu rosc réil, cesu imdis.

Fáelid-sem cu n-déne dul,
hi nglen luch ina gérchrub;
hi-tucu cheist n-doraid n-dil,
os mé chene am fáelid.

Cia beimini amin nach ré
ní derban cách a chéle;
mait le cechtar nár a dán
subaigthiud a óenurán.

Hé fesin as choimsid dáu
in muid du-n-gní cach óenláu;
do thabairt doraid du glé
for mumud céin am messe.
This may be something you would love to keep,
Yours Ian.T

I & Pangur Ban my cat
'Tis a like task we are at:
Hunting mice is his delight,
Hunting words I sit all night.

'Tis a merry thing to see
At our tasks how glad are we,
When at home we sit & find
Entertainment to our mind.

'Gainst the wall he sets his eye,
Full & fierce & sharp & sly;
'Gainst the wall of knowledge I
All my little wisdom try.

So in peace our task we ply
Pangur Ban my cat & I;
In our arts we find our bliss,
I have mine & he has his.

Yours Ian.T

I like your language use, but be careful you don't become too obtuse for us to come along. Poetry is nothing without clarity. I was not confused by this, but you teeter on the edge of the cliff Confusion. On second thought... that's a rather excellent place for a poet to be. On the edge between clarity and confusion.

wes is right....it is an edge....
if poetry was athletic
snow boarder and trick skater
I love writing that dazzles
and is dark
..
I love gamer games..
and when the characters
are in the rain

atmosphere...
tension...
the unknowns

I realize now this
was my childhood
busy as it was
this form...
this taut ease

I never commented
on this
it was all around us
then...early seventy
two
I think society has
evolved..but not
changed...
an oxymoron

anyway....your
writing is intoxicating!

thank U!

much more concise in reading
Love the short of this
Thank u!