J.HunterDunn

The title of your poem got my attention immediately, for when you have been in London UK now and then, you eventually will get on the Central Line with Sheperd's Bush as one of the tube-stations. Reading it, I found no connection, but there's always the possibility that you intended to fool me and that there is a hidden meaning ... one never knows with you . The reason I write a review is that I'm a bit appalled that there's only one "like" after you posted this yesterday. You deserve many more "likes" in my opinion. Like the rest of your work, although I not always fully understand the contents, I love your choice of words and the mystic and dreamlike atmosphere you are able to evoke, sometimes with a surreal twist somewhere along the line. Please don't be discouraged by the lack of response. There are people outhere who enjoy to read what you write, so please continue doing so. Peter.

I know all about the special excitement that comes with meeting an online friend, spending the 18th Christmas with him this year. This story was the icing on the cake. Thanks the three of you. No doubt you'll have a Merry Christmas.

That was very gut -- not meaning bowels.

Alas, the end of a great story. I'm not going to disect it. I'm not bothered in the least by unanswered questions: the reader is left to find his or her own way to answer those. What will stay with me for a long time about this story is the breathtaking way you were able to give insight in the mind of someone whose perception of reality gradually narrows so much that he is on the brink of ending it all. For those of us who have been there it was maybe difficult, but very recognizable. My praise of your story may be that for more than a year I eagerly awaited every new chapter and read them as the first thing whenever they were posted. I will miss my regular dose of David and Twoey. Thanks so much for this story.

Sadness hit me right in my heart. Thanks so much, Gary, again you could find words, where I stagnate in muddled feelings.

I think that every relational psychotherapist will point out the importance of communication. Without talking futilities may grow to being major problems. The Kristof-incident can hardly account for the strange behavior of Diarmad. So there must have been something else already festering. Whatever it is doesn't exculpate Diarmad's drastic actions. Noël is not alone, though. Landyn and Simon are sympathetic allies. As they live in the same house, it will be unavoidable that Diarmad and Noël will at one point walk into each other. Pyrotechnics or glaciers?

First of all: it was so good to see the familiar characters back: the prologue didn't give any clues in that direction. And really: chopsticks on a Steinway ? How sacrilegious. No wonder Diarmad was a bit irritated by the "awful noise". The generation gap taken into account, Noël could have been a bit more civilized by introducing his friend and Diarmad could have been a bit less blunt in his reaction. But there's more to it, isn't there ...?

Tears followed by a smile. Self pity followed by the realisation that ashes are just physical remains ? A tantalising beginning, Adi.

I am a bit late with reviewing, but this one was still on my list. On reading again, I had the same sensation as the first time: such a masculine love-poem. Everyone deserves the experience of making love the way you give it form so beautifully. The passion burns the screen. Glad you decided to post it. Thanks for that.

Without that little man you wouldn't be the big man you're now, Gary. Without him you woulnd't have been able to write this touching poem. He doesn't need your help, he helped you to become what you are. Maybe you wish things could have been different -better- for him, but would that have resulted in the same Gary we know ?

Those are questions as old as mankind and philosophers nor religions can give an answer to. In your poem you were able to escape the heaviness that often accompanies those questions and yet give it the depth they need. It can be re-read on those days that the will to fight is not as strong and then can serve as a source for courage. I liked it very much, tim. I hope to be many years apart from finding out, but try to be ready anyway.

On reading your poem the first time "fatal attraction" came to mind. I think it was the combination of the suspense that was building in the first part and the outcome of the second. Then I noticed that they attached the label cardinal sin to the person/entity in the warm second part, but that this is not how the writer sees it. So I dropped the "fatal". For me this poem is about attraction that can't be resisted. Knowing your love for colors I suppose you deliberately let the red from the door return in the cardinal red. If not, it was just a hidden treat for me. I'm a long way off from making poems as beautiful as you do, Adi. Genuine admiration here.

An original way of giving your thoughts during a journey a place. There are several pairs that are food for reflection in itself and could well serve as writing prompts. Much room for filling in the blanks. A lovely poem, Gary. Thanks.

Sad thoughts in a nutshell show life in three stages like Oedipus conquered the Sphinx. Well done !

Hardly simple, I would say. The way you found a solution for the misgivings you mentioned on the forum is a perfect one: together is so much more than one plus one. I think it's a great sonnet and would like to see more of them, for you no doubt have many more inside you.