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Modern Conveniences

I keep calling my mother's voicemail,
though she’s been gone for months,
to hear her voice again
I consider leaving a message, but don’t

Even with loss in bloom,
I’m sure I’ll be stronger soon
Maybe I’ll think of something to say
when the torrent of memories
aren’t crashing in all around me

It’s just a simple message to leave
You’ll be there one more time for me
so we can talk about how we’ve been,
here among the ashes

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I appreciate moderate constructive criticism
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Last few words: 
Loss, one of the eternal engines of poetry.
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content


Hello, Michael,
So much to love here, but I think the title really is the foundation. I feel your loss, perhaps all the more because of the loss of my own mother a few years back. You've captured the desire for another phone call, another conversation. I think when ready, you should go for it. I doubt that you would neither be the first, nor the last.
Thank you for this gripping, yet tender poem.

Thanks L, and always appreciate you stopping by! Sorry to hear of your loss too.


Michael Anthony

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