The ending's a sad an pleasant irony. Caps at line starts seem formal for a story poem

Too etherial for me, but some nice lines.

Something to ponder for forty days and nights, inspiring.

This is reelly quite good, but you shouldn't have given yourself a 10, otherwise I might have.

Sounds Christian, okay if it is. Cryptic, okay too. High on wine, yep, that's me.

Not bad. Just clean up a few grammar glytches.

You don't need to sing or sign your name at the bottom, dagga, sir. Your dame has sighed or sung it already. Five, really?

"looked down on his throne" is thrown from the middle ages and a great line. "Surely they're shared" is not, try they've. Overall, an inspiring thought.

The title doesn't exactly invite one to read on, but once through the door, it's not bad going unless you're squeamish.

Oh, you gave yourself a 10 and me a 1. Okay, whatever.

A brief epoch and a little didactic. Good
"who's" "weathered face"

Why the semicolon standing guard off to the right?
The second verse is very nice. It's all good.

Sounds like a comment on a good poem or a good comment on a medochre poem. Do you mean the scales on a garter snake? I can't imagine "nothing left to say" unless you mean death. The bull goes on forever.

Ah, to be young again, or old again, still lying on the beach. Not bad.

When you say "fucking shoes" it implies some angst with the shod, and "no fucking raver" some reason to rave, but since you show none, the poem would be stronger without these. I can't relate poem to title without stretching my karma.

A fun and slightly erotic read. A bunch of tricky words, some of them new. I wish the last verse followed the style as well as the others.

Let's hope there's more to old age than a kindly smile given to friends who's minds are as far gone as yours. Use it or lose it, like having the presence of mind to put your comment to somebody's comment right under their comment. By the way, your poem starts off well enough, I just think the ending could be a lot better.

Love the last line and the overall spirit of the rest. Give up the cigarettes.

Brugge , Belgium, I suppose. Thick as a slab of what? The rest brings memories.

A good thought. "a future foretold" tends to spoil the intrigue that's otherwise there.