Happiness

a great poem!
Love these works Paul
musing and pondering
Yes to be a page in a journal
even
and Happiness's Survival
all the hearts ringing in the
wind on sleeves on outstretched
arms reaching for understanding
purpose and maybe Love
I fade in and out myself on this matter
but I feircely believe in remaining true
to my ideals about writing the way I do
and my odd self Gotta be someone
out there yet There is nothing like
the purpose of belief!!

Paul,

I am a fan of short lines, and this hits the mark for me.

It is tough to cover a theme when limited to such short lines.

This was just right...I got it, could see it and feel it.

Really liked the image of being just a crumpled page in the journal...nice!

Good job,

HS

I've read this 4 times trying to find a favorite part but couldn't as each line was obviously the result of a lot of thought................stan

I think the beginning should read 'happiness lay comatose' I'd remove the plural from 'lays' there followed by a slight change in that end of the stanza

happiness lay
comatose
she waits
to be saved

bottle numbs pain
for a couple of hours

mirror reflects
sad face (I think this is way too cliched to leave in but it's up to you)

words travel
mind's freeway
anguish seems
festive (not sure that works either..why does it seem happy? it needs some tying in there)

The last part I quite like as it is :)

You managed to pack a lot of meaning into very short lines, I think that it is very effective. The only thing I would say is in Stanza 6 do you think it might be better to say 'crumpled,' rather than 'crumbled' ? As it seems more appropriate for a piece of paper.

Goog job.

Lou

This has the quiet presence of grace.

been a fan of your work. I see the struggle to be something to someone, even a crumpled page in a journal. Keep writing, you are getting better all the time. ~ Gee

Again, the word is *lies*..humans lie an lie down, and humans .lay something down..

Happiness
Lays comatose
[lies] (you have personified happiness)
As she waits
To be saved

Bottle numbs the pain
For a couple
hours

mirror shows
reflections
Of a sad face

[mirrors
sad reflection] (we want poetic turnings, non?)

Words travel
a mind’s
Freeway
anguish seems
festive

Silence and doubt
Play card games
On the porch

Don’t look away
This torn man
Gave his all
To be
The crumpled page
In your journal

Love the last stanza, indeed impressive poem, Paul.

~A

(why are some lines caps and others not?)