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This Poem was Submitted By: Mell W. Morris On Date: 2004-03-09 14:23:23 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Terra Incognita

Our dogwood hasn't shed its leaves this year and I feel uneasy in view of all bare trees nearby. It isn't a Guinness event by any means, merely a small, unusual occurrence. I have amassed a collection of such episodes but I rarely expose those oddities. I feel certain arcane experiences occur to others which enchants and entrances me to know what comprises and arises in other brains. Does it rain inside your head? Do musical instruments produce colors with their sounds? Do tubas always bellow yellow for you, too? Do you free-fly through space, awed at a feast of colors and lights, wonders never imagined, yet feel intrusive as if ignoring a no-trespassing rule? Do you experience diurnal deja vu? My life is filled with unwilled happenings that tap into neural cells and I cannot understand that which wells in my own brain nor do I know my place, if one exists, in the grand scheme of our universe...all queries and no responses. Which brings me full circle: what quirks, majesties, and mysteries teem in the heads of others that forever will remain unseen and unsaid?

Additional Notes:
For T.L.W. and J.U. and R.B.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Elaine Marie Phalen On Date: 2004-04-07 22:44:35
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.93103
OK, Mell, it's taken until RIGHT NOW for this remarkable poem to make it upwards on my list! "Last but not least", though! Your theme is an intriguing one to which I can relate because it challenges our idea of individual perception. Do you and I see the same things, share the identical views, when confronted with duplicate stimuli? What a conundrum! Of course, we can't crawl into each others' minds, but your poem tackles the task and shows us the possibilities. The opening metaphor is very clear, with its aberrant tree, still clothed after the others have stripped to their bare limbs. Brrrr! Anyhow, the speaker uses the tree to launch herself into a reflection on the very nature of Mind. It isn't a Guinness event by any means, merely a small, unusual occurrence. I have amassed a collection of such episodes but I rarely expose those oddities. Your sense of humor adds a most attractive note of whimsy here. The speaker's uneasiness is downplayed by the quirky nature of the tree's "behavior" (which replicates what human eccentrics also do). Her recollection of odd past experiences is phrased in most exquisite assonance (enchants/entrances) and internal rhyme (comprises/arises; brains/rain). Do musical/instruments produce colors with their sounds? Do tubas always bellow yellow for you, too? The human brain is capable of an astonishing array of responses. I've often felt a convergence of color and sound, a synesthesia that immensely pleases my imagination. I can also - quite literally - "taste" scents. This may have come from a perfume allergy but it's an eerie and familiar occurrence. "Bellow yellow" is, again, a droll and striking turn of phrase. Do you free-fly through space, awed at a feast of colors and lights, wonders never imagined, yet feel intrusive as if ignoring a no-trespassing rule? Do you experience diurnal deja vu? Well, I do wonder whether or not I'm pushing the boundaries of sanity to their absolute limits. People look at me funny sometimes. "Diurnal deja vu" - what a concept!! Yes, it happens a lot. Things seem so .... recognized! Then again, if there really is an Akashic Record, and every action is/has been already imprinted on it, then we should be able to move back and forth at will. We should be able to experience the same event more than once and know it for what it is (or has been). My life is filled with unwilled happenings ... filled/unwilled: nice! that tap into neural cells and I cannot ... happenings/tap: also nice! understand that which wells in my own brain nor do I know my place, if one exists, in the grand scheme of our universe... Of course, the brain is not supposed to be self-aware; it thinks but doesn't actually "see" itself in that process, right? We just have to imagine how it is doing all this thinking. We are also, I believe, not meant to grasp everything that happens. As for the universe, it's so vast that I'd drown in it, were I to ask where I fit. Yes. "all/queries and no responses". Great line break, by the way. ... what quirks, majesties, and mysteries teem in the heads of others that forever will remain unseen and unsaid? "Teem" links via sonics with "unseen" and also connects to it through logical sequence. Obviously, everyone's mind is crammed with impulses, thoughts, memories and so on; equally clear is that separate individuals don't have access to this stored data. It's like a locked file cabinet; the thing is massively heavy and we'd love to know what's in there, but the owner has the key and can't even find it. "Unsaid" is, in a way, a bit paradoxical because a poet's gift is to say the unsayable. Merely by voicing these musings in a poem, you've essentially spoken the unspeakable. But still, our skulls are divided forever by space and solid bone. Short of telepathy, we can only tell each other what's inside but we can't show it. I do so love your work. (( Easter Hug! )) Brenda

This Poem was Critiqued By: Jennifer j Hill On Date: 2004-04-06 11:49:34
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.72973
Dear Mell, Have you ever accidently pressed the back key while writing a detailed critique? I was almost done with my comments on this spendid poem when I lost them. Now I have just enough time to tell you I enjoyed this piece and felt as if I had gone on a hot air balloon ride through the mysterious recesses of your mind, complete with feeling slightly dizzy, as though I had stepped off the balloon when I reached the end. What a knack you have (and what a love of that knack I have) for using slant rhyme and assonance and color and rhythm to make the reader soar with you through this stream of conciousness type piece. Your use of enjambment adds to the stream of conciousness effect and the use of questions also add tremendously to the soaring effect bringing the reader with you to the big question that you are pondering-where do you fit into the universe and in what relationship to others? My fav part is "Do tubas always bellow yellow for you, too?", which caused an explosion of color in my head. Thanks for the ride! I'm sorry I was not able to do justice to this piece. But rest assured it did not go unnoticed and I enjoyed the ride immensely. Blessings, Jennifer

This Poem was Critiqued By: Sherri L Smith On Date: 2004-04-05 20:02:57
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.65217
Dear Mell, Excellent! I wonder what does go through others heads. Surely they can't be as crazy as mine!! Then along you come and share your wonderful thoughts and sights with us. I think it must be the artist in us that makes us think of things differently then other people do. I know my husband just gives me strange looks at some of the things that I come up with! My mind seems to go a little crazy at night. My dreams are something else, full color and sometimes they even turn into short stories! Well last night I gave my son-in-law what for because of the heartache he is causing our daughter. So anyway, I will keep that one contained! Which brings me full circle: what quirks, majesties, and mysteries teem in the heads of others that forever will remain unseen and unsaid? Great ending question. Sherri

This Poem was Critiqued By: Rick Barnes On Date: 2004-03-22 15:18:06
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
MEll, You have awakened me. I was hibernating, or so I told myself. I didn't want to look at, hear, or compose verse for at least a few poetic lifetimes... and then: Our dogwood hasn't shed its leaves this year and I feel uneasy in view of all bare trees nearby. I know that dogwood. I have felt it's last lingering leaves move to my inner winds lately. And I know that uneasy feeling of being surrounded by bare trees, their barren branches taunting and goading me as if I were the artist who had abandoned the scene with a palette full of green left lying this side of the canvas. Yes, it rains inside my head and musical sounds form colors that eyes can not describe. I had to chuckle at, "yet feel intrusive as if ignoring a no-trespassing rule?" How often I feel that yet have never quite identified it so deftly. in the grand scheme of our universe...all queries and no responses. Which brings me full circle: what quirks, majesties, and mysteries teem in the heads of others that forever will remain unseen and unsaid? I have often thought the query is the point. It is enough to ask the proper questions. I have always been suspect of answers. Your writings and musings always conjure up the most marvelous questions. My eternally reawaking soul thanks you. R.B.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne Duval Morgan On Date: 2004-03-13 12:11:36
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.33333
Lordy what a unique title, your poem borders on those things that most never speak of, simply because if we cite the way we think, and oddities affect us, that other will label us as quurkly, and unusual. Never doubt my friend that certain oddieies have affected us all, it's the way of human nauture, that's why I don't judge, I am the format all my existence is based on, and who am I to judge othes. I love this poem, the flow, and the wonderful, although unintention internal ryme. No doubt all of us meet the critera as established by the dept of your thinking. A brief insight to me is probably best described as a person thats floated through cosmic space, and eventually sits in this lovely, calming pink cloud, heads above the reality, escapism, maybe, never the less a beautifully memory of a dream I had as a child, and I can go there away from the pain, and enjoy the serenity, peace and quit we seem to need. I'm sorry if I seem distracted, but my thin skin bleeds by itself at the oddest times, and blood drips before I realize it. My bodily functions seemed to have shut down completely, and I'm exhausted and in pain constantly. Most of all it's the reality, that my time grows short, I'm not being hysterical, or even looking for pity, I find the process intruging, I've often wondered if people realize they are dying, and for all of me I don't know how they don't, or fight for life, when the natural course is winding down. I scour my brain, because I do want one last poem, that incorporates all these thoughts, and literally I know it's impossible, and the one constant is, there is no fear of dying. I've been very fortunate and blessed in my life, and TPL offers me a home base, and I've grown to love and admire everyone, even though other may think they have quirks, they don't you know they are just being that diverfied personity that creats this web calledlife. So sweety not quirky, you write with soul first, your heart and your head, and fortunately God has graced you with a natural talent to be so expreeive, that's why you have a following, Fate decreed you would, and I just glad I got to enjoy a part of it, grateful really, you do give me comfort, and acceptance, and that is better then all the gold in the world. You go girl, keep climbing you have peaks yet to conquer, and so you shall. My love always friend/girl, Jo

This Poem was Critiqued By: Claire H. Currier On Date: 2004-03-12 11:55:30
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 8.16667
Dear Poet: Indeed you have captured it all within this one........metaphor's, inside rhyming, personifications, etc......nicely structured, great word flow asking of the reading as one travels down the path of your work......one further feels the emotions involved here, the sounds put forth, colors that burst forth as well......over and over this one sings..... It has been a pleasure as always to find one of your pieces and to be able to read and respond in kind...thank you for posting and sharing this with us.....continued safeness my friend, God Bless, Claire

This Poem was Critiqued By: Wayne R. Leach On Date: 2004-03-12 11:04:27
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.67857
Mell, it's ALL here, every tool! Alliteration, assonance, consonance, personification, metaphor, interior rhyming, enjambment, and on and on. What a read! What wonderful questions you ask the reader to pursue as he/she travels down this excellent work! You have expressed feelings, colors, sounds, emotions that, I am sure, all of us have experienced at some time or other. I will be back to read and contemplate this more in the future. Please leave it on site, or give me permission to copy and pass it on to a few friends. Thanks, wl. Health & harmony to you.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Marcia McCaslin On Date: 2004-03-11 21:31:26
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.40000
Hi Mell. Your poems are, and always have been, larger than life. I read this yesterday, and all I could think of today is this beautiful woman, perfect in every respect, but 12 feet tall-- with great bearing. This poem has 'bearing'. It just comes at you with observations and questions, quizical and playful, but dead-serious at the same time. Of course, from being on TPL 2 yrs. ago, I was waiting for the signature internal rhymes and was not disappointed. It wouldn't be Mell without at least a 'bellow yellow' and a 'comprises and arises'--more too, but just enough to satisfy my humble ear. I am totally engaged in the heart behind these words. It must be one of the mysteries of life that we do not know for sure where our place is--or if we have one. I don't know a single soul who has said--yes, I'm here to do this and that's why I'm here and I'm sure of it. My favorite line is: Does it rain inside your head? I really love the questions, period. They make me feel so involved and as though you really care how others feel and perceive things. I also like: all queries and no responses. It sure seems that way. Anyway, thanks for sharing.k Marcia McCaslin

This Poem was Critiqued By: Turner Lee Williams On Date: 2004-03-10 12:32:06
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 8.66667
Mell–-Back with a vengeance, I see, and up to your old tricks as well-smile. The mundaneness of the first stanza belies the complex and intricate journey the speaker is about to undertake with reader(s) (some willingly and others haplessly). Who but you would or could take this closer look at such unusual thoughts: things we (maybe want to ignore) question in our own lives/minds –but not out loud, at least not audible enough so others can hear (for fear of being seen as odd, mad or on meds). These nonliteral expressions/questions: “Does it rain inside your head?/Do musical instruments produce colors with their sounds?/Do tubas always...”/ and of course my most favorite line of the piece; “Do you free-fly through space, awed at a feast of colors and lights- wonders never imagined, yet feel intrusive as if ignoring a no-trespassing rule?” (Double WOW WOW!!) Briefly, I need to mention (only because they are fresh) the internal/slant rhymes (episodes/expose/ those; comprises/arises; brains/rain; bellow/yellow; you/too; filled/willed; cells/wells; scheme/teem/unseen; heads/unsaid) Brilliant use of line breaks and enjambements: run-on-sentences/phrases kept this reader racing to the next bit, panting to see the rest, and yes, hoping he could follow the flow (understand). For a reader that’s adamant bout terseness and brevity, this piece left me wanting more!-smile. The title and last two stanzas serves to reemphasize how little we know about the untaped human mind. Sorry for being verbose, but just happy that you’ve graced us with another of your masterful “Mind Teasers.” TLW

This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2004-03-09 18:03:57
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Dear Mell: I am so honored by your additional notes. And to be in such company! These are the true questions - maybe the only ones worth bothering about - better than any others I can think of. What is that gap which separates one person from another, and how do we bridge it. To tell, truthfully, what one sees, and what one thinks is the most difficult of tasks, and poetry seems one of three ways in which this can be done. As a poet, you bridge this so-called gap with the poem. Just as an artist in drawing captures both the object drawn and the empty spaces surrounding it, you limn the unknown with great skill - and most of all, with what I can only describe as soul. I feel very lonely reading this piece, and very warmed by the ethereal fingers which touched keys to write it. The soul encasing the body which is Mell's using her brain and hands to form words which flew through space to find my mind-soul. Together, we (all reading/you) make music. There isn't anything better than this dance, in my opinion. Our dogwood hasn't shed its leaves this year and I feel uneasy in view of all bare trees nearby. It isn't a Guinness event by any means, merely a small, unusual occurrence. I have amassed a collection of such episodes I glanced out the window when I read this - our dogwood is barren, except for lichen and buds. Your dogwood is sending a message. All of these occurrences are synchronicity, I think you are showing us, happening around us constantly. They are invisible to us unless we "see" them and you lend us your eyes to begin to do so. The associations which spring to my mind with your dogwood tree. Flowers of the dogwood have four petals which make the shape of a cross. The center of the flower resembles the crown of thorns with bright red, clustered fruit in the center representing the blood of Christ. A pagan belief that this tree cleanses wounds; another culture sees this tree as the wood of spear and arrows. but I rarely expose those oddities. I feel certain arcane experiences occur to others which enchants and entrances me to know what comprises and arises in other brains. Does it rain inside your head? Do musical What a glorious invitation and opening to expansion you give us here. Those "arcane" experiences make up a good part of conscious/unconscious life. "Does it rain inside your head?" I've been waiting my entire life for someone to ask me that. There's a 'movie screen' in there, or perhaps my head is the projector. The rain I see is made of a conglomerate of sensory impressions, reflected, upside down, upon my retinae. Our vision is poor - say, compared to a woodpecker's, or a diamond-eyed dragon fly. Their vision is more likely closer to the reality of rain. But the rain that falls in my head is made of years of observation of rain - beginning with the shimmering drops on the car windows when I was a child. Trips at night enchanted me, as I could watch the rainbow-hued drops mingle and flow with a certain unexplainable feeling - closest metaphor I suppose would be cool jazz. instruments produce colors with their sounds? (yes!) Do tubas always bellow yellow for you, too? (I am in love with this line, infatuated) Do you free-fly through space, awed at a feast of colors and lights, wonders never imagined, yet feel intrusive as if ignoring a no-trespassing The wondrous thoughts (memories?) stimulated by this poem distract me from my desire to make comments on its structure. "free-fly through space/feast" is a dance, and a 'feast' in itself. I am still resonating to the tuba's 'bellowing yellow' *a dark, amber yellow* -- you've touched upon on of my favorite topics - synesthesia. It is embarrassing to discuss this openly, as real-time listener's faces may reflect not only skepticism, but also slight smirks. rule? Do you experience diurnal deja vu? My life is filled with unwilled happenings that tap into neural cells and I cannot understand that which wells in my own brain nor do I know my place, if one exists, Shivery sounds of liquid l's abound throughout, and the triple treat of "diurnal deja vu" make this poem better than a triple fudge sundae, at least for me. The mysterious happenings within "neural cells" sober me up somewhat, though - as not all "unwilled happenings" are of the pleasant kind. "cells/wells" - from the tiny to the expansive - and out. What is knowing one's "place" you ask the reader to consider, within the greater macrocosm? The "grand scheme" which makes sense only if looked at in small bits, or through telescopes (my favorite view) or microscopes. Those bits can be given names, attributes, mathematically measured, and we may comfort ourselves with our neat categories of everything. Until another "unwilled event" comes along, to belie linear perceptions, accumulated 'factoids' about the nature of things. in the grand scheme of our universe...all queries and no responses. Which brings me full circle: what quirks, majesties, ----lovely sounds - "circle/quirks" - delicious! and mysteries teem in the heads of others that forever will remain A truly humble person asks these questions. A humbled and admiring reader asks them within. The desire to understand the Other overwhelms. The loneliness of our being confined within smaller self-units becomes stifling, oppressive. You opened doors with this poem, letting in fresh air and visions. unseen and unsaid? Those two words contain universes within them. The poem is like an antiphony. I want to respond to each word and line with a chant. I heard yesterday that 'antiphony' is the way angels communicate with one another. You've allowed me to hear the colors of your sublime music once more. Your angel has told my angel that they're going off to listen to some Coltrane and Ella Fitzgerald. What an amazing person you are, Nekk. How fortunate I am to experience your poetic magic once more. If I could, I would extend a star to you, with your name. All my best, always Joanne (L.L.)

This Poem was Critiqued By: Jordan Brendez Bandojo On Date: 2004-03-09 16:22:41
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Hi Mell, I am glad to see your great submission again. What kind of quirks you experienced and you came up with this arcane feeling? Hmmm....ah, this is dedicated to 3 persons. Intriguing! It seems that you shared a common neuronic activity, huh! Terra Incognita? Hmmm...it brings me to the world of latin! Is it? I envy your new or unexplored field of knowledge! The metaphor is working powerfully throughout. The imagery brings about the dogwood initializes the tone of the poem. I like the mention of "Guinness event", it suggests originality. The throwing of questions is participating and I am imagining how it feels greatly to the persons being dedicated. I especially like the questions: "Do musical instruments produce colors with their sounds? Do tubas always bellow yellow for you, too?" Music lover as you are, you can relate things like this! Liked the harmony created with "bell---ow" and "yell----ow", just like "Mell---ow"! Great! "My life is filled with unwilled happenings that tap into neural cells and I cannot understand that which wells in my own brain nor do I know my place, if one exists, in the grand scheme of our universe...all queries and no responses." Who specializes the field, biologist or psychologist? That is the arcane feel of it! This is a mysterious poem! Thanks for sharing this with us, Mell! Would you mind the tell me a little the motivating factor behind the creation of this piece?

This Poem was Critiqued By: Thomas Edward Wright On Date: 2004-03-09 15:51:33
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.00000
Mell- What a tour! How does a brain do all that? Mine is just plumbing. Sending the ***t from one place to another. These are not mysteries, but mini-series, due out any day now on cable. What drug or mind-meld we'll next unearth I am not told. But, it'll be great. Should the godwood(sic) drop trow tomorrow, I expect to read about it in the morning rag, OK? And just so yer aware, I'm planning a party for all the TPL'ers. It's at your house, we're gonna do group poetry. The phrasing in this piece is perfection, BTW, and the ramble is pulled off with poetic aplomb, leaving us with the question to which the only poetic answer can be "NO WAY!" KUTNW. (Oh: keep up the nice work) tom

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