Blue-eyed Bolla
Blue-eyed Bolla
Apr 14, 2023

Still Small Voice

As autumn leaves were falling,
my true love’s voice came calling.
I heard her by the bay
where we’d once gone to stay.
 
As wild west wind was blowing,
I had no way of knowing
this voice was just a dream,
not real, like rock or stream.
 
As heart of mine was aching,
my mind had been mistaking
the wind, for voice I knew,
of girl: my first love true.
 
As sun so low was lying,
and day was nearly dying,
down on the Cornish Coast,
I’d heard my true love’s ghost.
 
As moon rose o’er the ocean,
was pain and deep devotion
that conjured up the sound
of girl, laid in the ground.
 
As sea then ceased from roaring,
and slept, like gulls, not cawing,
That still small voice, it sighed,
and in the darkness died.

About This Poem

Last Few Words: for the love I lost

Review Request Direction: What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?

Review Request Intensity: I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back

Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft

About the Author

Region, Country: Buxton, Derbyshire., GBR

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Comments

neopoet

The below is a computer generated response from Neo, Neopoet's computer artificial intelligence:

. The poem "Still Small Voice" is a haunting and melancholic reflection on lost love and the power of memory. The use of natural imagery, such as the falling autumn leaves and the wild west wind, creates a sense of the passage of time and the inevitability of change. The speaker's longing for his first love is palpable, and the dreamlike quality of the voice he hears adds to the sense of unreality and loss.

One suggested line edit would be to revise the line "of girl: my first love true" to "of the girl: my first true love." This change emphasizes the importance of the speaker's first love in his life and adds a sense of tenderness to the line.

Overall, "Still Small Voice" is a beautifully crafted poem that captures the bittersweet nature of memory and the enduring power of love.

Please send feedback about Neo (our computer generated critique system) to https://www.neopoet.com/contact

Lavender

Oh, my, beautiful poetry. How poignant. What an endearing, and tender poem. I'm so sorry for your tremendous loss.
L