Do you ever look back on yesterday?

Amazing man ! I loved your mask of janus and thought that was your best until I read this one, this surpasses it.

I like poems with a message like the poem "two roads diverged in the wood" they are not only poetic but they also have something to teach, this "Halcyon Days" has the same effect on me.

I loved the way you have described your childhood, the fact that you are old and want to revisit it, I think that desire is shared by many of us. and I liked the truth in these words "Regret for things I meant to do, but sadly, madly, left undone.

The woman that I meant to woo, who might have borne to me a son.

I am in a love with a girl , whom I want to end up with, I hope I have the courage to get her, for like the character in your poem I don't wanna end up with regret.

the thing which I like about your poems is that you tend to bring out the ugly, depressing, sad but very real side of human nature, things, the side which we don't want to talk about but which cannot be avoided.

In mask of janus you talked about backstabbers, about not trusting people, friends and people who betray you and I could immediately connect to it, because I have been through such experiences. here also the thought of being alone when I am old and regretting the past and crying over it scares me and I could relate to thought of being a child again.

you have captured the joy of childhood and agony of dying alone very well.

The Death, Commemoration and Memory (DCM) Research Group is based within the School of Arts, Culture and Environment at the University of Edinburgh. Founded in 2008, DCM provides a forum for postgraduates and staff whose research engages with any aspect of the Group's remit, attracting junior and senior scholars from a variety of academic disciplines. Building upon the Group's success, a two-day conference is planned in Edinburgh for June 2010 to provide a platform for further interdisciplinary discussion and to create new networks between researchers with similar interests throughout the academic community.

Topics for discussion may include, but are not limited to:

• Acts of commemoration, mourning practices and rituals

• The social aspects of individual memory, collective memories and cultural attitudes towards memory

• The ethics and etiquette of death studies: the treatment of human remains in archaeology, pathology and museum practice

• Death in the visual arts: commemoration through architectural and artistic practices

• Poetic, literary and musical interpretations of death

• The dichotomy between history and memory

• Psychological and sociological studies of bereavement

I look more like yesterdays spaghetti when I wake up. LOL

Humbled and in awe of what great poetry can do,

I have vowed unto myself to learn to write more like you.

The dignity of verse, I have compromised at best;

the problems in my life put my skill with words to test.

I was the single wild card in my grade schools' gifted class,

an anomaly by means of long absences, allowed to pass

the third grade simply because someone made a mistake,

and did not realize I was only there for two days before summer break.

Do you wonder why I tell you this? Please give me just a bit

of compassion, of sound advisory, I see your candle has been lit

I may have been, in your regards, just another would-be-writer-

but through things due, in part, to you, I am a better fighter.

I read this poem some time ago and it brought a tear then, too.

I apologize for not showing deserved respect to you.

Our soulful brother sang praises to your verse, way back when.

I am quite profoundly moved to see that you might be his friend again.

If I were not so brazen as to skulk around the archived posts,

I would not know how much this poem has haunted some, like ghosts.

Yes, this is a good moment for us all. I realize that we are all maturing, but the little boy or girl inside will always play part in matters of the heart. At those magical, mystical moments when empathy comes to me like a tsunami, I see the ripples in the waters that may seem a world away; you are positively tidal tonight.

With best of wishes, paradigm shifts, heartfelt interest, and due respect... LC.

After hurriedly digesting the content of the other responses, I gather you're a wicked person who is undeserving of others attention. As a result, although calculated and donned in the finest of clothing, this piece rings hollow and insincere.

Do I look back on yesterday, yes I do. As I get older I do it more and more. I love this poem which I have read before and found to be really poignant. As I mentioned previously, I do not think that this piece was written by a young man although I know you would disagree with me. It is good to see you posting something so well written and on a subject matter which is not in any way offensive to anyone. I'm wondering whether you will be writing something new for us? I hope you get the credit for this. It proves you can write which others have failed to see.

Just look at all those TD's mounting up

Very nice. Reminded me of one we had to memorise in school:

I Remember, I Remember

I remember, I remember

The house where I was born,

The little window where the sun

Came peeping in at morn;

He never came a wink too soon

Nor brought too long a day;

But now, I often wish the night

Had borne my breath away.

I remember, I remember

The roses red and white,

The violets and the lily cups--

Those flowers made of light!

The lilacs where the robin built,

And where my brother set

The laburnum on his birthday,--

The tree is living yet!

I remember, I remember

Where I was used to swing,

And thought the air must rush as fresh

To swallows on the wing;

My spirit flew in feathers then

That is so heavy now,

The summer pools could hardly cool

The fever on my brow.

I remember, I remember

The fir-trees dark and high;

I used to think their slender tops

Were close against the sky:

It was a childish ignorance,

But now 'tis little joy

To know I'm farther off from Heaven

Than when I was a boy.

Thomas Hood

How many times will you post this Petrine sonnet?

(I know it isn't a sonnet, per se, but imitating Peter qualifies it as one.)

Also, welcome back, I've missed you.

It's technically good, but boring as batsh*t. There is no bite to it.

Matteo, Buk and Turd can see through it, a shame other members on here are trying to kiss up to you.

I agree with Buk & Cassie.

You prove you can write

(and post again and again and again)

archaic, metered, elementary, cliched and boring

pantyliners, which, like bitter pills make me gag... wait,

I need to dab the tear from my eye.

.

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