I didn't feel like signing in, do forgive me. I've been reading your poetry and the ones I've read so far are fabulous. I, myself, have been divulging lately into the interdimensional universe, the faeries and the myths about the hollow earth and reptilians. It's just interesting. Off topic, this poem is fabulous. It really paints a storyline image in my mind and that's always a good thing. I have a new poem that I am proud of. Drop by some time. Keep writing.

Nice poem, very pretty and it has a nice rhythm.

Absolutely phenominal. I recently attended the scottish games that took place in my neighborhood (yeah, caber tossing!) I bought a dagger and had an absolutely lovely conversation with a female piper who had a similar experience. I love this piece, as I made a real connection with it in both a physical and mental sense. Very emotional and I deem this a proper time to declare that I am learning the bagpipes, myself!

Very light and breezy on the surface, but with a bit of a darkened tone underneath. Wow... could I be any more vague? I'm not sure if I'm interpreting this accurately, but nevertheless I'm trying. Your rhyme scheme is great, after the first stanza. You rhyme "strikes" with "likes" obviously, but the similarity between "twice" and "pipes" threw me off until Stanza 2 where I saw you were going for an ABCB rhyme scheme. Small complaint of my own stupidity.

I love how this plays like a story. You use such shimmery language (shimmery for lack of a better word)that invokes both childish awe and adult understanding. The reader gets the feeling that while the piper seems happy, she's actually very much alone. But, "As list'ners breeze by / They stop, and they listen, / In silent reply." They don't talk to her. The only things she can count on seem to be the stars which "blink and shine" (great phrase, that), but even then, "...the last star's away, / The piper stops piping / Alas, for the day." I was a little sad that the piper had to stop piping at nightfall (though I guess we all need our rest). It made me wonder where she would go, or if she had a place to sleep or some money for a hotel, heh.

Yeah, so it's not a very deep poem about the damnation of humanity or the downward spiral of God's depression. But it IS a refreshing taken on an antique idea--that of the pastoral figure frolicking in the throes of innocence and shepherdhood on the hillside of some imaginary land.

I very much like this poem. It reminds of me Virgil's 'Georgics' or something.

J