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This Poem was Submitted By: Joan M Whiteman On Date: 2004-03-18 11:50:33 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Doppler Effect (Revision)

She held her breath as the breeze sighed by, gently rouging her cheek. It brought to mind his touch and the sweet taste of temptation. She remembered the thrill of his arrival, welling in her breast like the sound of an approaching train. The moment rushed in, filling her soul to the brink, clouding her eyes, like early-morning mist. Time ran, deeper than midnight, faster than the light from falling stars. A whistle blew. She felt the spaces grow. He left a fleeting touch, more bruise than memory. The train dwindled into dust. She heard the wavering sound of distance, fading like forgotten vows.

Additional Notes:
This poem was originally posted here last August. The Critiquers then suggested some changes. After incorporating some of those suggested changes, I submitted the poem to several magazines. It has been tentatively accepted for publication by the Atlantic Monthly magazine, pending some suggested editorial revisions. This version reflects the revisions suggested by the magazine's editors as well as those suggested by TPL Critiquers, previously mentioned. In particular, the magazine editors asked that I, "more fully incorporate the image of the Doppler Effect into the whole of the poem" and to "hold the moment and fulfill the imagery" I hope I've accomplished all of that with this version. Before I re-submit, I would really appreciate the input of the TPL Critiquers and Poets specifically as to how well the poem works for them (as individuals). The original version,posted in August, 2003, can still be viewed under the title, "Doppler Effect." Thanks so much for any help you might offer. Joan

This Poem was Critiqued By: Marcia McCaslin On Date: 2004-04-05 21:20:39
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.66667
Hi Joan--I won't be much "help"---but need to let you know that I love this poem and the title is Physics (which I love) and the body of the poem is chock-full of the emotion and second-thoughts we women do experience. I know I have never read something of this nature with such a scientific title, but I do not wonder that Atlantic Monthly is considering it. That is going to be such a special event in your life--an "arriving" of sorts. She remembered the thrill of his arrival, welling in her breast like the sound of an approaching train. Here we have the crux of the poem--and the welling in her breast==makes me remember that feeling too-- and the sound of the approaching train. Well, no other example would tell us as well as this tells us. The moment rushed in, filling her soul to the brink, Another excellent picture and description that lives now in my memory bank. filling a soul to the brink is really filling. more bruise than memory.--------yes, we're all with you here! She heard the wavering sound of distance, fading like forgotten vows.==========oh my, you are certainly telling us a lot here. That's the work of a great poet, and you have measured up! Thanks for a great read. Sorry I'm late getting to you--but was on vacation and just got back. Everything built up while I was away. Best, Marcia McCaslin

This Poem was Critiqued By: Elaine Marie Phalen On Date: 2004-04-05 13:00:50
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.90000
Hi Joan, First of all, congratulations on your acceptance by Atlantic Monthly - not an easy venue! This poem is a fine illustration of the use of sustained metaphor. The rising emotional intensity, triggered by something as insubstantial as air, begins with the alliterative touch/temptation (and oh, how readily one leads to the next). The rouging of the cheeks makes us think of how we prepare for someone's arrival, primping and beautifying before his train reaches the platform. She remembered the thrill of his arrival, welling in her breast like the sound of an approaching train. Good use of the "l" consonance with thrill/welling ... nice! The sustained Doppler metaphor begins here, with a fairly straightforward simile. The moment rushed in, .... appropriate to the train's movement filling her soul to the brink, ... more of that lovely "l" consonance clouding her eyes, ... bit of a shift away from the aural comparison, but visually appealing like early-morning mist. Time ran, deeper than midnight, faster than the light from falling stars. I really love this strophe!! The synesthesia of light and speed suggests the train's headlight as it races through the darkness. How does love outrun light? Paradoxical, but it happens. The heart moves faster than the head. The poem makes good use of lengthening lines to imitate the train's rapid approach. A whistle blew. .... Suddenly we're brought abruptly into a colder reality. She felt the spaces grow. .... Yes, awareness of absence becomes unavoidable He left a fleeting touch, .... you have already used "touch" in S1; is there an alternative? more bruise than memory. ... wonderful!! The moment peaks and begins to fall here. It is already past when the speaker acknowledges what's happened, too late to stop it. The train dwindled into dust. ... "d" alliteration works well; train represents relationship She heard the wavering sound of distance, ... what a great line!! fading like forgotten vows. ... fricative "f" is so soft, like exhaled breath I can see why the magazine editors would want to publish this one. It's evocative and oh, so poignant. I keep wondering how it would read if done in present tense, so the separation is a constant and ongoing thing. Just a thought, of course! You know your own intent far better than I. She holds her breath as the breeze sighs by, gently rouging her cheek. It brings to mind his touch ... The train dwindles into dust. She hears the wavering sound of distance, fading like forgotten vows. Anyway, this is a fine poem, well crafted and a pleasure to read. Regards, Brenda

This Poem was Critiqued By: Rachel F. Spinoza On Date: 2004-03-25 17:22:53
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.78571
Doppler Effect (Revision) She held her breath as the breeze sighed by, gently rouging her cheek. It brought to mind his touch and the sweet taste of temptation. perfect She remembered the thrill of his arrival, welling in her breast like the sound of an approaching train. I am on the fence about this” I think that She remembered his arrival, the thrill of the approaching train. Was a little better because it was more subtle to be “thrilled” by the train and Not directly by the pending arrival – it take santicipation to a higher level – but if that was a change suggested by the AM people – then – yes,,,,,,go for it [How many rainstorms have since saddened her soul?] The moment rushed in, filling her soul to the brink, [yes but “filling her to the brink is brilliant!] clouding her eyes, like early-morning mist. Time ran, deeper than midnight, faster than the light from falling stars.[lovely] A whistle blew. She felt the spaces grow. He left a fleeting touch, more bruise than memory. [perfect and alive!] The train dwindled into dust. [wonderful description and a good referral back to the Doppler effect] She heard the wavering sound of distance, fading like forgotten vows. [yes yes! And a hearty congratulations for being tentatively accepted in so prestigious a magazine! Hide this as soon as you get the feedback you want so they do not decide that it has been previously published if they google it.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Wayne R. Leach On Date: 2004-03-20 19:14:07
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.55000
I think you have it down perfectly. I didn't see the 1st, and will check it out - after I give my comments here. I am sure others have given you proper advice re the other one. I certainly see the Doppler Effect here, in the imagery as well as in the stanza forms, alternating from quatrain to tercet - esp. in S4 with the lines atretching out as I read. The "approaching train" simile was perfect. I remember the thrills I received while waiting for, then hearing trains come into town at night. And the depth of midnight was/is great! Wonderfully done. I see no way that I could suggest improvement. Metaphorically superb. I hope this is an evidence of healing should it, in any way, be autobiographical in nature. Best wishes for future success, health, happiness. wl

This Poem was Critiqued By: Jennifer j Hill On Date: 2004-03-19 09:59:34
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.72727
Dear Joan, I read both versions of this poem over and I have to say you have done alot of work and trimmed this in such a way as to not just tighten it up, but make the doppler effect even more clarified. Breaking it down into shorter stanzas gives ease to the read and makes it visually more appealing as well. Alternating 4-3-4-3-4-3 line stanzas adds to the doppler effect, also. Stanza 1 having been broken into two parts puts more emphasis and clarity on her remembrance of his presence in her life. I'm glad you kept the line about the breeze sighing by, rouging her cheek as that is fresh and alive. Stanza 2 remembers the way the thrill of newness in a relationship and I think the ommission of "the thrill of the approaching train. How many rainstorms have since saddened her soul?" and the change to "welling in her breast like the sound of an approaching train." adds clarity when the question would be slightly distracting from the direction the poem is going. In stanza three instead of just saying what you remember, you tell us HOW remembering effects you. I like that change alot. The phrase "like early-morning mist" is wonderful as is the comparison. The perfectness of the change in stanza 4 blows me away. Using just one metaphor here has a definate defining effect, but more than that, this concept of time running faster then light from falling stars is awesome and continues the theme further. In s-5 the change from defining what the last encounter should be, to describing what it was is another clarifying moment. The idea of "more bruise then memory" is so brilliantly apt here. The pain of the emotonal hurts causing a bruise on her psyche shows the reader instead of telling the reader. Using the descriptive phrase "dwindling to dust" in s-6 is so much more colorful then "the train left". You have also carried the theme of the doppler effect all the way through the poem quite nicely. I so thoroughly enjoyed this poem and to see the artist's magic of transforming this lovely piece into a vitual butterfly is even more delightful. Congratulations and good luck on your continued success. Blessings, Jennifer

This Poem was Critiqued By: Sandra J Kelley On Date: 2004-03-18 20:01:26
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.31579
Joan good luck with the atlantic monthly. I love the first two lines and again the last stanza is awesome. In lines 3 and 4 you get a touch wordy and bringing to mind is a phrase that distances the reader from the experience of the poem I would tighten it up a little and be a bit more immediate something like gently roughing her cheek and becoming his touch, the sweet taste of temptation. The second stanza is great. In the third instead of introducing an unrelated image filled to the brink which suggests a damn or a lake or something I would go with another train related image such as rattling her soul-rattling would imply the sound of the train on the tracks-or come up with another image related to the sound or sight of a moving train. And then the rest of the poem is perfect. Good luck-I was a little tough on this one because it deserves to be published and I want you to have the best possible chance. Sandra

This Poem was Critiqued By: marilyn terwilleger On Date: 2004-03-18 15:34:32
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.33333
Hi Joan, First let me give you congrats for the hopeful publishing of this piece...actually it is just lovely...it give me a sense of sadness as I imagine that train turning to dust as it slithers down the track. When my husband went off to war he left on a train and I experienced that day all over again when I read this poem. It seems to me that you have incorperated the doppler effect here quite well using the changing sounds and movement of this train as a instrument to do that...words like 'approching...moment rushed...time ran ...dwindled into dust...wavering sound. Some of my favorite lines...breeze sighed by... sweet taste of temptation...welling in her breast (wonderful)filling her soul to the brink.. she felt the spaces grow(I have experienced this...)and my most favorite...the train dwindled into dust.' I am not a technical critiquer but these are my thoughts. This is a wonderful piece and thanks for sharing it with us and good luck. Blessings...Marilyn

This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2004-03-18 12:53:38
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Dear Joan: Firstly, congratulations on your progress with Atlantic Monthly magazine! A tentative acceptance is a semi-glorious thing - as may stir both delight and anxiety. I believe that this poem is outstanding, and am feeling vicarious excitement for the high-level acknowledgement it has received. I recall enjoying the first version and my response. This is a 'tough assignment' indeed for you - to revise this poem for publication. I see the changes you have made - they make the work even more evocative. I will do my best to give you my impressions - not as if I were an editor, as I don't have those qualifications. I am someone who loves poetry - I particularly enjoy yours. I can only give you my subjective response - and I am so glad that you clarified that expectation in your additional notes. I am also very pleased that you left the original version for review and comparison. Revision: She held her breath as the breeze sighed by, gently rouging her cheek. It brought to mind his touch and the sweet taste of temptation. She remembered the thrill of his arrival, welling in her breast like the sound of an approaching train. Much more concise, and "welling in her breast" adds sensory imagery - but I miss "how many rainstorms/have since saddened her soul?" I can understand why you omitted it, but it must have been difficult to do. [She held her breath as the breeze sighed by, gently rouging her cheek. It brought to mind his touch and the sweet taste of temptation. She remembered his arrival, the thrill of the approaching train. How many rainstorms have since saddened her soul?] The moment rushed in, filling her soul to the brink, clouding her eyes, like early-morning mist. Time ran, deeper than midnight, faster than the light from falling stars. I really like what you have done with the element of time here. These stanzas are condensed - and while I miss some of the images from the original version, I have a stronger sense of the Doppler effect in these. Here your words truly evoke a sense of the mysterious bendable, contracting or expanding quality of psychological time as we experience it relative to 'real time'. You have captured the speed of a pleasurable, joyous moment with "rushed in" and its inscrutable elusiveness with "ran, deeper than midnight." [It was all too brief, his presence, like a flower in early Spring fading to brown after one day in the sun. Running deep, like a silent river, darker than midnight, shining with the searing sweat of an unforgiven martyr.] A whistle blew. She felt the spaces grow. He left a fleeting touch, more bruise than memory. Above, I felt that you have really achieved an economy of words, have sliced 'closer to the bone' though I am so attached to "A kiss goodbye should be a memory, not an experience." "She felt the spaces grow" and "fleeting touch" and especially "more bruise than memory" capture the evanescent nature of experience superbly. The anagrams of "felt/left/fle(e)t(ing)" provide sensation of time's fleetingness, an ungraspable elusive quality that is the cause for sorrow. Why can't we turn time back - reverse it - hold it? Mold it to our need and will? You show how we retain experiences in the cells of our bodies - perhaps much more indelible than 'mere' memory. For example, a smell will evoke the whole of an experience, while 'thinking' about it will likely produce a series of vague impressions and images. [The whistle blew and she felt his slight nearness. She barely touched his offered lips. A kiss goodbye should be a memory, not an experience.] And finally -- "The train dwindled into dust. She heard the wavering sound of distance, fading like forgotten vows." as contrasted to -- "The train left. She heard the wavering sound of distance fading like forgotten vows." L1 of S6 is incredibly moving - exquisitely poignant - in the best sense of that word. The final two lines complete the poem with a sense of melancholy that, too, wants to slip away. I am so caught up in this poem, once more. From a personal standpoint I simply cannot imagine it differently. I think you have honed it to perfection. I will be interested to see what other readers may contribute. I hope this helps, and count it an honor to be among those whose comments you will consider in your creative process. In one sense, a poem "is" - as Rick Barnes once said to me. In another sense, it is always giving birth to itself. My very best wishes for your success with this work. I feel that it is a "sure thing" if ever one exists. All my best, Joanne

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