[Critique Group 2] poem for May 23 critique session

[Alice Massa]

Hello!Leonard, Abbie, Brad, and Valerie:

During the past few days, I have been working on the following brand new 
and unusual poem.Which of the three titles do you prefer?Could this poem 
be classified as a poem of the romance-writing genre?I sure hope you 
like this endeavor better than my sonnet of last month.I placed double 
asterisks and the number of the stanza prior to the second through sixth 
stanzas.The number of words of the six stanzas is 334.

Looking forward to talking with you on May 23--Alice

ajm321kh at wi.rr.com

*The Romance Tale of Old Poem and Old Soul*

**

*Romancing the Old Soul*

**

*Old Poem's Romancing the Old Soul*

by Alice Jane-Marie Massa

I am Old Poem.

My lines mark my age:

my rhymes are wrinkling at the ends.

My feet that once were stressed and unstressed

now just amble along

in whatever free verse

that fits with orthotics.

Now, I know I am old

because I am afraid of falling--

terrified of a line break.

** Second Stanza

However, Old Soul is holding me tenderly:

in his warm, arthritic hands,

I relax.

I rejuvenate in his caress

until his right hand's fingers

gently and artfully turn

my dog-eared page--

once a cute puppy-eared page--

languidly to the left

of where I am duty-bound.

** Third Stanza

A-a-ah, the light from the gooseneck lamp

warms and invigorates two more tattered pages

which the Old Soul reads aloud

in his full baritone voice,

as he once read before his class

of English majors mired in verse.

Each metaphor he mandates

makes me feel like

the Old Poem I am

is once again a virgin verse.

** Fourth Stanza

The evening sails into midnight's mooring.

The Old Soul's baritone is now barely a whisper,

yet he reads on.

Once again, he turns a page:

this time, somewhat clumsily, with less care.

Instead of caressing the margins of me,

Old Soul is holding onto me

too tightly

as if by this stronghold

his hands will stop trembling.

Nevertheless, his actions are making me shutter.

** Fifth Stanza

Oh, sweet Old Soul,

he is dozing off.

He is falling asleep--

falling ...

Old Soul is losing his grip on me!

Perhaps, I will glide gracefully to his lap.

Oh, no!I am falling, falling ...

falling over his lap,

tumbling, tumbling,

tumbling over his knees,

down his corduroy slacks,

sliding off his plaid slippers,

rolling onto the hardwood floor.

What has Old Soul done to me?

Oh, my Muse, I have a line break!

** Sixth Stanza

9-1-1.I need a Poetry Ambulance right away.

I am at Old Soul's Cottage Lane.

I am Old Poem;

and in a most unromantic fall,

I sustained a terrible stanza break.

(end of poem)


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