Not Long Left

Comments about Not Long Left

  • Amanda Lukas (6/8/2006 4:05:00 PM)

    Vincent, I must admit that I have recently been skimming through the authors on the new poems list rather than titles. That being said, I've found that your name is one that always sticks out and promises a great read.

    It's a pleasure to read you.

    Amanda

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  • Mike Finley (4/25/2006 7:57:00 AM)

    There is a persistent melancholy in your work, Vincent. Siometimes it has a sweetness, and sometimes it seems to be something you are gunning for - a self-punishment perhaps.

    My prayer for you is to take your talent, which is considerable, and to reroute it toward less destructive, less self-pitying.

    The mind of a poet is a thicket of tares, but the world is bright and bountiful. Take a walk outside, and open your heart to the possibilities.

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  • Michele Kostelnik Parrillo (3/8/2006 11:38:00 PM)

    This poem about the bird that dies in the grass is so so sad. I did cry. When I was young, oh so young, I buried a frozen cat in my back yard. What a poem. I must say you have got it Vincent. Oh yes, it was beautiful also - in death there is beauty. The feather.... michele kostelnik

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  • Gina Onyemaechi (1/30/2006 8:15:00 AM)

    If his date of birth didn't show, you'd think he was twice his actual age. He has overwhelming, mature talent.

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  • Joy Vanderhelm (1/2/2006 4:35:00 PM)

    I'm glad you posted on the forum because then I might have wasted more time hunting for someone with even a smidgen of your ability. You write like I dream, with force, power and emotion that could fill a room.
    Warm regards, Joy

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  • john tiong chunghoo john tiong chunghoo (1/1/2006 1:52:00 AM)

    some of his poems are great stuff.

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Best Poem of Not Long Left

Teenage Boys Walk Like Drunk Monkeys

My dad used to say
Back in my distant day,
When we were teenagers
We were being trained to kill
Foreign evil strangers.

Nowadays young boys
With all their electronic toys,
Speak like they have no tounge,
Whilst wearing their trousers
Half way down there bum.

Standing on street corners
Flooding the floor with their spit.
Walking like drunk monkeys,
Down streets half lit.

Back in my day, boys became men
Within the blink of an eye.
Ask a boy nowadays to spend
A night in a freezing field,
They would probably cry-
Call ...

Read the full of Teenage Boys Walk Like Drunk Monkeys

A Rest From Writing

Not one word is worth
the birth upon the paper.
Not one line feels fine
like a quick fix i split,
my mind in two.
A new neat petite,
poem owing all
to life and its lessons.
Time has caught