This Poem was Submitted By: Rachel A Couch On Date: 2004-12-09 14:45:57 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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I Named Him Ocean For His Father

standing on a frozen lake air rising from it moving to avoid heat oozing from  all hairs on our bodies. pulling things from the air uncreated words, strands of memory, industrial cookware, misplaced dedications, and the type of brightly colored fog that takes the form childish insightfulness for a moment  before it dissipates. . . vanishes. I was trying to create.  attempting to do something you were laughing  trying to cry but the saline was frozen just behind your tear ducts  (your eyes had turned icy blue as a result) there was no light not that it was dark  just,there was no concept of light If there was no concept of love could we love without knowing [about] it?  would love be forever painless if love was unknowable? sometimes i hear Your clever words  put to another’s clever song. How does an idea belong to you?  can someone own this wind that is avoiding us? I asked you your undetectable, decisive nod told me you thought so. Can it be me i wonder but you cant know that, you know me was well as I do. the lake melts its warm thick water invites me in (for just a moment) Im not so tired. Once I was afraid to drown, I remember the wave surrounding my head  and in that pocket of air under the wild ocean  I found you years before we meet  because you were the next thing to make me want to live.
Copyright © December 2004 Rachel A Couch

This Poem was Critiqued By: Latorial D. Faison On Date: 2005-01-07 00:00:55
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.91667
Rachel, This is a phenomenal poem, and I'm glad that I read it. It could be about a drowning or perhaps losing a newborn baby. Either way, the sentiment and the heart comes to surface in every line. This must have been a therapeutic poem to write. My favorite lines come from the following: sometimes i hear Your clever words put to another’s clever song. How does an idea belong to you? can someone own this wind that is avoiding us? Talking to others even though there's no response is healing and therapeutic. That's probably why people with pets live longer. They have someone to talk to who doesn't answer back. They just listen. Thanks for sharing such an endearing piece with us this time. I really like this poem. congratulations on it. Latorial

This Poem was Critiqued By: James Edward Schanne On Date: 2005-01-03 15:06:49
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.18750
what things in life makes us want to live, draws that desire out most intensely Love and The threat of Death Two very intense feelings, thats whats your poem says to me most, Thanks for letting me read and comment.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Tony P Spicuglia On Date: 2004-12-29 11:44:45
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Rachel, I have struggled with this piece for many days. At times I acquiesced to its will and other times I thought “how much easier to dismiss it” and not face the realization that at times life and critiquing is hard work. Always I came back to it as if “it is the next thing that makes me want to live”. And here we are, me critiquing something that is beyond my fingers to speak of. I can only presume…. I Named Him Ocean For His Father standing on a frozen lake – I believe here, the lake, is named ocean, and ocean of encounters and dreams, sometimes iced over, other times warmed with hope, yet always foreboding for the uninitiated. Much like the ocean, I have a dire love of bodies of water, and the “Oceans” amass their stories. air rising from it moving to avoid heat oozing from all hairs on our bodies. – For me, I know the iciness of lost love, of memories displaced, of the needless loss of beauty, and I know, there is a macabre need to cling to the heartache beyond the moment. By letting go the heartache, the “object of love” becomes trivialized and I know the image may fade. pulling things from the air uncreated words, strands of memory, industrial cookware, misplaced dedications, and the type of brightly colored fog that takes the form childish insightfulness for a moment before it dissipates. . . vanishes. – I once wrote a song about this, the strength of industrial strength memories, scents, “childish insightfulness”, and the knowledge that as tainted as some of it may be, there is an innocence that permeates it. Without the innocent intimacy, hurt and loss are not possible. I was trying to create. attempting to do something – There are moments when nothing is beyond the grasp of a compliant mind, then other times, those times, the mind is not compliant, and emotions become “overstated”, and oddly, that is not a bad thing, for there is a certain joy also associated with the attempt towards hope. you were laughing trying to cry but the saline was frozen just behind your tear ducts (your eyes had turned icy blue as a result) – a splendid metaphor for the eyes of somebody who cannot feel the enormous feelings within the “scored soul’. Icy blue, like the lake in winter, icy blue, cold enough not to feel, icy blue, frozen tear ducts that seem incapable of crying for me. Wonderful, and tragic. there was no light not that it was dark just, there was no concept of light – The whole concept of this line, and the ensuing lines is beyond the “sound in the forest” thing. It takes a look at the soul, the moment of conception for all feeling, the calling of all intimacy, and asks, “did you really love me?”. I know you thought you did, but are you capable. What magnificent thoughts, and metaphor. BRAVO!! If there was no concept of love could we love without knowing [about] it? would love be forever painless if love was unknowable? – The icy blue eyes could probably answer that, but you have also taught us, later, that the ice melts, even though the foreboding remains. sometimes i hear Your clever words put to another’s clever song. How does an idea belong to you? can someone own this wind that is avoiding us? – Music is a powerful motivator of emotions, and there were times I had to end the radio clamor, or forever cede myself to self destructive emotions, fed by the songs. Who owns the songs, the writer, or those who feel the emotional pull of reinforcement. I asked you your undetectable, decisive nod told me you thought so. Can it be me i wonder but you cant know that, you know me was well as I do. – The reversal within, “you can’t know that” and “you know me as well as I do”, one a denial, the other stating why. You can’t because you are not inside me, and “you know me” meaning if you know me that well, then “why?” can’t you understand, it is once again, the icy blue eyes that cannot weep. the lake melts its warm thick water invites me in (for just a moment) I’m not so tired. – Rachel, I wondered at this verse, of the hope that draws one back to a false security, and the resolve not to go, because the weariness is not (may never be) great enough to allow it. But the invite is often there, when the other finds that “missing of a piece” is greater than what presently solves the riddle. Once I was afraid to drown, I remember the wave surrounding my head and in that pocket of air under the wild ocean I found you years before we meet because you were the next thing to make me want to live. “I found you years before we meet”, and in that personification, you thrived. I think your final stanza is an indictment for all of us fools, who presume that what will be, actually is. It very well could be I misread your whole piece, but I want to assure you of its power of suasion for me. It is a powerful piece that probably will reach beyond the bounds of the writer, to the souls of many. Well done.
This Poem was Critiqued By: arnie s WACHMAN On Date: 2004-12-17 15:36:53
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Such a sad poem. What drew me in was the title. My grandson is named Ocean. There are some grammatical errors here and I wish you would clean them up to make this one fine poem. It has lots of heart and feeling. I would also re-construct the lines...some are way too long and should be put into the body of this poem. Right now it only detracts from what you are saying. your undetectable, decisive nod told me you thought so. Q: if a nod is undetectable then how could you know it's decisive? A: by saying "your 'almost' undetectable decisive nod told me..... Also, take out the comma in that line. It's not necessary. Like I said ... this piece has merit but it needs some work. Thanks for letting me critique.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2004-12-15 18:58:12
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.00000
Rachel, I named him ocean/is a great title. good poem. We all came from the cean/so all ou last names should be ocear or earth. but you can't know that, you know me was[as] well as I do. and in that pocket of air under the wild ocean I found you years before we meet[met] because you were the next thing to make me want to live. Our children do force us to live....... Even if love were not named, it would hurt. The emotion's an emotion. Wrapped in the word. My best to you, Dellena
This Poem was Critiqued By: marilyn terwilleger On Date: 2004-12-14 15:54:12
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Hi Rachel, Welcome to TPL. Before I begin this critique I must apologize to you as I fear I may not do it justice. I have read it several times but there is so much between the surface of your words that I know the un-said is the reason you wrote such a heart rendering piece. I see a young woman very much in love but the intensity of her love is not returned as she wished it were. I feel the pathos inside the words and a feeling of desperation...so much so that drowning is considered as an option to qwell this love that is choking her. From the title I am assuming there is a child involved and I begin to wonder if these words are for the child and not the father...the entire poem is such an interesting concept in that it is myterious and profound....which are both signs of a accomplished poet. I also wonder why some of the "I" are captilized and some not. I am so anxious to have you answer my crit and tell me if I am out in left field or not! When I critique I attempt to get inside the poet's thoughts and feel what he/she does and then let them kmow how their words affected me. I sincerely hope you will continue to post your work here and I hope to hear from you soon. Blessings.....Marilyn
This Poem was Critiqued By: Wanda S. Thibodeaux On Date: 2004-12-11 12:06:47
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Dear Rachel, I have read this numerous times, each time giving me an almost different image of what you are saying. This piece has a mystical mood which I enjoy very much. I was caught up in the wonderful title you have chosen. I suggest removing "industrial cookware' from your second stanza. It stops the flow process of that line for me. You might shorten up those lines a bit also. I love inspired poetry, Rachel, and you have given us a fine example of just that. Hard to find favorite lines here, but I am drawn to your last verse as mine. This poem leaves the reader unsure of the outcome tho. I believe the child named "Ocean for his father" is who you are speaking to in your last line. In the reality of your piece, I see a lonely, broken hearted girl, a child held to her breast, perhaps giving thought to drowning as the final solution, since she is no longer afraid. The question about "unknowable love" (at least for me) is being spoken to the ocean. "Can it be me I wonder but you can't know that, you know me as well as I do." I may be far out in left field on all of these comments. However, it has been a pleasure to find this piece. I have so enjoyed your thoughts. Welcome to the site, this submission proves you will be an asset. My very best, Wanda
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