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This Poem was Submitted By: Regis L Chapman On Date: 2004-03-09 16:15:57 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Leaves Cling

the leaves are tears that cling to the road of my brain as I drive over fears which continue to goad despite their pain faceless mouths open to horrible utterance they fall on and around this silver umbran carriage encased in silken gossamer strings of governance leading in and out in every direction what it's about is discovered on silent reflection through and through I strive a breath forward in my silent splinter blown by a wind the fall of my intent has turned to winter and the leaves buried beneath the muted white that has come down as a blessing like time to the vintner

Additional Notes:
Another wine inspired fall like poem. I guess I am all backwards, thinking of fall in springtime.

This Poem was Critiqued By: marilyn terwilleger On Date: 2004-03-24 15:16:56
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.31250
Hi Reeg, You have used some wonderful descriptors here that allow this reader to enjoy some beautiful images of fall. 'leaves are tears that cling to the road of my brain' love this 'I drive over fears that continue to goad despite their pain' I am not sure of the word 'despite' here...if the fear continues...does it mean they can goad even tho they are in pain? Maybe it is just my feeble brain that does not quite get this thought. 'faceless mouths open to horrible utterences'...profound...'encased in sliken gossamer'...love this line...'I strive a breath forward in my silent splinter blown by a wind'...I like this thought people like leaves are often blown and splintered in an attempt to reach a goal...'the fall of my intent has turned to winter'...can't help but feel sadness here...'leaves burried beneath the muted white' great imagery here....'that has come down as a blessing' I found myself, as I read this piece, switching from reality to the metaphorical sense which is what I think is your intent. Forgive me if I completly fractured your meaning here. The poem is lovely with or without the metaphor! Peace...Marilyn

This Poem was Critiqued By: Thomas Edward Wright On Date: 2004-03-10 13:51:05
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.10000
Reeg- mark scheffer talks about the seasons in his life, too; they seem to be disconnected from the sidereal world. I agree with the two of you that there are springs and falls, winters and summers. This piece is much clearer, and therefore far more powerful. Your use of short unpunctuated lines allows the reader to slide down the pole of ideas into the glass of (potential) wine at the bottom. Leaves Cling ...........Okay. We're talking trees, end of summer, coming of fall the leaves are tears .........the tree is you, or someone who is moving into a "fall" that cling to the road ........now the leaves of the tree are on a road: to where? of my brain ....I wouldn't say this. We know it's all "up there, in our heads!" It came from one. as I drive over fears ..........Okay. so you are driving and the tree with its tears/leaves are on the road upon which you are traveling. Where are you going? Why? which continue to goad despite their pain .......Okay, you've had a painful experience, pain goads, yes, so "despite??" faceless mouths open .....personification of the "fears" "I drove over" which are "leaves"? or the road you're on??? to horrible utterance ........... okay. Uttered by whom? faceless mouths of fears? they fall on and around ........back to leaves this silver umbran carriage .........Umbran? Or, Umber (brown)? Umbrian(Italian state)? encased in silken gossamer ..........floaty, webs, silky strings of governance .....governing what? the carriage... leading in and out ....... in every direction what it's about is discovered on silent reflection through and through .............interconnectedness of these ideas leads to a discovery I strive a breath forward in my silent splinter ...........splinter of time blown by a wind the fall of my intent .........a wind, the fall of intent - it had a summer? What was that summer like? has turned to winter and the leaves buried beneath the muted white that has come down ..............leaves...have come down or the wind has come down or the winter white? as a blessing like time to the vintner .........now we are left with an entirely new metaphor, two actually, time, which was alluded to in the transition from fall to winter, and vinter, the grape to wine guy, and his craft, and the patience with which one grows grapes, picks grapes, smash, brew, filter, age, bottle, drink okay, I see, a long flowing continuous process of changing earth, water and sun into wine - and you are undergoing, or have undergone, a similar change. So your introspective drive through your past has lent new meaning to your life, like the aging of a good wine, full of great flavor, great texture, full of its past but something entirely new. Yes. That is poetry. Tom

This Poem was Critiqued By: Rachel F. Spinoza On Date: 2004-03-10 12:01:32
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Leaves Cling Nice title which is ambiguous enough to suggeest that there is metaphoric illusion awaiting us. the leaves are tears that cling to the road of my brain "Road" works at a metaphoric level but is a bit iffy at a literal level and the best metaphors work on both - i like the idea a lot though though- perhaps a synonym for "road" more common in language about the brain such as "pathways?" as I drive over fears which continue to goad despite their pain faceless mouths interesting -- makes me think of the cheshire cat open to horrible utterance they fall on and around this silver umbran carriage encased in silken gossamer strings of governance leading in and out fantastic image - the trappings of the physical I think...reminds me of Yeats ... in every direction what it's about is discovered on silent reflection through and through nice pattern of sound and meter here I strive a breath forward in my silent splinter [nice alliteration and interesting phrase] blown by a wind the fall of my intent has turned to winter [good pun on "fall" and marvelous homage to the Bards Richard 111 -"Now is the winter of my discontent..." and the leaves buried beneath the muted white that has come down as a blessing like time/ to the vintner great ending which suggests both ripened grapes and the coming "winter..." This is marvelously complex and interesting work, Regis

This Poem was Critiqued By: Marcia McCaslin On Date: 2004-03-09 19:48:23
Critiquer Rating During Critique: Unknown
Hi Regis--no, I don't think of you as backwards, thinking of fall in springtime. The mind is so elastic, and an 'off' spring breeze can whisk you back to fall. he leaves are tears that cling to the road of my brain--------------the road of your brain is a description that explains immediately to any reader as I drive over fears which continue to goad despite their pain-------I'm with you here--we all drive over fears which continue to goad us despite the faceless mouths open---------pain. "faceless mouths and horrible utterance"--I guess this is a dream-like to horrible utterance--------state that we all suffer they fall on and around this silver umbran carriage----the umbran carriage,what an apt description encased in silken gossamer silken gossamer, the same strings of governance leading in and out----yes, what a confusing map it is, and, as you ask, what's it about? But it is very in every direction--------cleverly designed! what it's about is discovered on silent reflection through and through I strive a breath forward---striving a breath forward--interesting way of putting it in my silent splinter---your alliteration is not lost on me blown by a wind the fall of my intent---the fall...to winter...good has turned to winter and the leaves buried beneath the muted white---muted white--very "the way it is" that has come down as a blessing-------------ah, we see it as a blessing here. like time to the vintner---very good ending. Wraps it all up A wine-inspired fall-like poem. I've been known to write those myself! Thanks for a good read. Marcia McCaslin

This Poem was Critiqued By: Wayne R. Leach On Date: 2004-03-09 18:25:25
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.58333
An interesting read, Reeg. A lot of rhyming for you. I enjoyed it. There was just one place that I hesitated, not quite getting it, I guess. The following lines: I strive a breath forward in my silent splinter blown by a wind - [I re-read several times, and am no better off.] The rest of it is very good, and probably this is, too, with an explanation. I love it from these lines on. A great close. Imagery fantastic esp. the "muted white". Quite metaphorical if I must say, with a whole bunch of philosophy tossed in for good measure. Write on - keep posting. Enjoy the fruit of the vine! :) wl

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