Made me smile with this one. Thank you.

Great title.

I have got to hear you read this stuff one day.

I see it. I agree with the other commenters. It could be better, with more incubation.

Herr Doktor, you should hear me reading this mother-fucker.

Pretty damn moving for a first draft. Are you going to finish it, or lock it away with the tarnished silver?

I have regrets like this as well, friend. A postcard of your life, posted here, this is.

Indeed. But flesh makes a warmer one, as we both must know.

So what? Get over it.

I have to agree that it drifts a little before the rolling off of the names, which is a stunning moment. What can I say, your long post talking about your village actually moved me more than most of the poem did. 'For, how many, which' was wonderful. And Poetandknowit, I must ask if you have read this poem in the original language, and if so if you understand that original language, before you go saying that's it's no good in that language.

waoh ! ... it's good ....it's really good ..or maybe i'm screwed to say so but it's good ..... .. maybe i'm going to keep it on my desktop for some days now....

Hmmm... I feel ambiguous about this one. It's as if I want to like it but for some reason can't quite.

I have them too, but in the dry heat of Ninevah, summer.

Awkward, but not terrible. Just go over the words, mostly you need to amputate.

'Mists and frosts rhyme' is damn good. The rest leaves to be desired.

Why does your pain amuse us so much? Because it's so paltry, boring, cliched, misspelt and amusing. That's all, Stacey dear, that's all.

waoh ! ... it's good ....it's really good ..or maybe i'm screwed to say so but it's good ..... the words just seem to just flow without any hinderance .. maybe i'm going to keep it on my desktop for some days now....

So, 1. boy has new girl 2. boy feels sorry for himself because of old girl, and gets drunk, passing out on new girl 3. girl realize boy prefers bottle to relationship and leaves...? Yes? That would make Paris even colder.

He'll not be horny again dear.

If you would take the train, you'd avoid this mess. But then, would we have this poem?