Comma after day. Funny, sort of.

I take it as a kind of priestly advice for gaining "Absolution" for having committed the perceived sin af adultry, advising the woman to tell her child his breeding. She questions whether to tell, apparently because of guilt feelings. The last verse is provocatively ambiguous because we don't know whether the "ears" are the child's or the world's. Good.

A mysterious kinda thing, I won't even say all the interpretations it could have or the problems with them. Let it be for the intuition.

"now instead of in the past" This is a good start. The idea is there. It needs metaphor or clever prose or something tricky because that's what poetic readers want.

I don't get the connection between meeting a woman who is his match, over and over, and dying alone and happy.

Could you say whatever it is a little more simply please.

As an addict to writing, I think I understand your position. But it's not clearly stated, even to an addict, therefore probably not to normal people. Zero in on what it is you're most concerned about.

I'd scratch the first verse.
"Our soles preceed our souls,"
"no longer cold," not needed.
"My freeform flails"
Is your friend really 96 and dancing?

You have no choice. Go for it. Just be careful.

Dump the bum!!!!

Destiny and fate change nothing! Get real. Look at life squarely and stop making excuses. Don't stop writing poetry though.

That's "nentwined" or kaolin. And I'd be on lesser sites where people are less honest.

This has some good lines and a nice flow (except for the first paragraph, which I would scratch) but I wonder what the point is. Am I missing something?

I love the immediacy of great moments, the throwing off of caution. But I think you have dwelt on it too long in this poem. Brevity seems in order, especially for this topic. Good thoughts.

Now that I've calmed down from my little catfight with god'swife (and by the way I appreciate your comments there) I'll say something about your poem. I like the feel of it. That's not astute, but it's the kinda thing that gets you through the night. Cheers.

Why would she feel hate? She is content alone. He has problems, but the last line doesn't seem to work for her.

Anytime you can take two apparently unrelated things and make one a metaphor for the other, you're into the dancefloor of poetry. Some of your wording is hard to follow, but what you are doing is not. I'll take that anyday over a perfectly formed poem with nothing to say.

I prefer hyphenation so you may want to court elsewhere. I Dov- in- a- pond, and none of them knew me.

I like the thrust of this poem, its persistance toward the end, its showing how cynics' needles hurt like the real ones. You also run the course fron infatuation to dissillusion with haroin. Good.

"There is no antidote for lonliness except ill hope"

Who cares what God , the puppeteer, thinks. But then, I could be wrong.