OK, Knot...I'm gonna embarass myself AND you. In different ways. (1) I had to actually take a look to see if you were female...I see you have the same name as my father...and spelled the same way...with 2 Ns. Of course, there is Glen Close...hehe. SO, I may be stepping on it a bit here by calling you a guy. (2) But you write as I would expect a female to write. (3) Reading what I have of your poetry, you seem more female...that's a good thing. If you were a female, I'd love to embrace you...no prurient reasons...just to "feel" someome who has the feelings you display. Supposing you are male...you MUST have a mate (or else someone is missing the inside of you!). (4) Critique time...fair, right? (hehe) "The fear is buried up to the hilt" I would change to say... "The fear is buried to the hilt" Not sure why...I think it is a tempo thing. "How wickedly fate does master Plunged head long towards disaster" Not sure what to do here, but the rhythm seem to be interrupted. I have a thought, but it seems to be "trying" too hard. (5) Wish I had your talent. (6) Had a few beers tonight. Roses are red. Violets are blue. I bow my head To Knot4u. How's that? Hehe Cheers!