This Poem was Submitted By: marilyn terwilleger On Date: 2005-01-20 16:40:05 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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From My Backdoor

I see the lawn is brown now, embossed with patches of frozen snow as luminous as crystal jewels. Summer has succumbed to the rude growling howl of winter. Gone are the warm zephyrs and sun bathed days and I see a willful leaf is stuck to a lifeless tree. Cumulus clouds slide down the sky and collide with the pampero, determined to unfasten all clinging fronds. My tulip bulbs lie beneath like cadavers within their graves blanketed from the cruel catarrh. I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead and flickering stars to light my way.  How sweet the sleeping moonlight will shine when spring begins to stir.  Haze on far horizons will lift in the tender sky and the sun will ripen cornfields.  Beguiling butterflies will adorn seraphic flowers and larks will fly on high. It is then my grass will return to emerald green and warmth shall sooth my unfounded fears that spring will grace my backdoor nevermore.

Copyright © January 2005 marilyn terwilleger

Additional Notes:
I wrote this before I had surgery and I was a bit apprehensive...but also hopeful


This Poem was Critiqued By: Kelly Denise LaBeff On Date: 2005-02-06 04:59:42
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.92308
Poet Terwilleger, I love the word, zephyr, warm gentle breeze, and it fits perfectly into your verse with sun-bathed days! I agree with you, the howl of winter does sound like a rude growling, unwelcomed in my case, too, as it makes my bones, joints, and muscles aches and scream with the same intensity and velocity! Metaphorically speaking, your verse lepth forth with character comparing tulip bulbs to "cadavers within their graves blanketed from the cruel catarrh"....that's exactly how I view my little patches of flowerbeds, too. My tulips, however, tend to remain a cadaver as I find myself replanting new bulbs every year! SIGH! Flickering stars, moon light, and haze lifting on far horizons are beauty sights to behold that indeed do adorn the pathway leading to spring's return...very creative giving life to your verse and detailed with perfection adding zest to your verse-effect! Emerald green without the benefit of spring's eternal color is soothing in itself...great choice of words! The activity of your verse using collide, brook-gladdened, embossed and ripen are each words that offer seasonal enrichment to your readers. Your verse makes me anticipate seeing garden bound flights of those beguiling butterflies as I to always fear that spring will not adorn my stone and pertified wood-encircled patches of earth that blanket seeds, roots, and bulbs from last year's flower gardenbeds beyond the walkway of my backdoor, too! You have looked within my heart and put to verse a fear that I evidently share with you! Let us both look forward to warmer, floral tomorrows. TY for sharing this as I truly enjoyed its reading, Kelly


This Poem was Critiqued By: Tony P Spicuglia On Date: 2005-01-29 21:18:46
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.97297
Marylyn From My Backdoor - You know Marilyn, whenever I write, that is exactly the way I feel, whether I am in Turkey, or New Hampshire, it all seems "seen from my backdoor", excellent title. I see the lawn is brown now, embossed with patches - Love "embossed", it says there are less "healthy" patches, but it also means that it is a work of love, in progress!! of frozen snow as luminous as crystal jewels. - "luminous crystals" delicious Summer has succumbed to the rude growling howl of winter. - When thinking of summer, and the coming of autumn, there is the hesitancy of nature, where what will be is exacting a toll, but what is, must first "succumb" give it up, for the winter to arise!! Gone are the warm zephyrs and sun bathed days and I see a willful leaf is stuck to a lifeless tree. - Sentience, how I see sentience around me, pampero, determined to unfasten all clinging fronds. - had to look up the west north west wind, that touches south america, always love a reference, now, ... I know!! My tulip bulbs lie beneath like cadavers within their - Poor tulip bulbs, not cadavers but vessels of future life, yet they lay there! I wonder if in times long past, they were considered as dead, and only with our enlightened views, can such be dispelled. graves blanketed from the cruel catarrh. - WOW ... great.. another new word, but moreover a splendid analogy, that equals the strength of winter approaching and seated. Excellent, excellent, wow!! Did I say WOW? I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead and flickering stars to light my way. How sweet the sleeping moonlight will shine when spring begins to stir. Haze on far horizons will lift in the tender sky and the sun will ripen cornfields. Beguiling butterflies will adorn seraphic flowers and larks will fly on high. - I wish for the veiw, went to Pismo last week, and saw the Monarchs returning from Mexico, thousands, like a living flower moving in unison. Excellent analogy, metaphor to living!! It is then my grass will return to emerald green and warmth shall sooth my unfounded fears that spring will grace my backdoor nevermore. - And you are here to see it all. I know it will meet your approval, your verse has already overwhelmed me with approval. Welcome back lady!!!
This Poem was Critiqued By: Jane A Day On Date: 2005-01-29 21:15:35
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Dear Marilyn, I always enjoy the humor--the slight grin--of your poems such as in the lines rude growling howl of winter. : ) I think this poem is very good and just would like to suggest some tightening in places of the language. I see the lawn is brown now, embossed with patches of frozen snow as luminous as crystal jewels. (Do you need jewels? Can you instead say something about the crystals?) Summer has succumbed to the rude growling howl of winter. Gone are the warm zephyrs and sun bathed days and I (I like the line break here at I because it implies you are gone as well in some way) see a willful leaf is stuck to a lifeless tree. Cumulus clouds slide down the sky and collide with the (here you could break the line and collide and pick up your nice alliteration) pampero, determined to unfasten all clinging fronds. My tulip bulbs lie beneath like cadavers within their (here you could end at cadavers letting us really think on the image) graves blanketed from the cruel catarrh. I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead and (break at meadow?) flickering stars to light my way. How sweet the sleeping (I ;ove this line break--listen to those Ss!) moonlight will shine when spring begins to stir. Haze on )Haze on to next stanza?( far horizons will lift in the tender sky and the sun will (bring ripen up and end there?) ripen cornfields. Beguiling butterflies will adorn seraphic flowers and larks will fly on high. It is then my grass will return to emerald green and warmth shall sooth my unfounded fears that spring will grace my backdoor nevermore. (I think you could be more natural in your line here with never again rather than nevermore) You have done such an wonderful job with the emotion and the image in this poem. Thanks! Jane
This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne Duval Morgan On Date: 2005-01-22 19:10:46
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
It's amazing the thought procwess reveled in this poem. Looking out the backdoor, knowing that illness is like Winter, all seems dull from lifeless trees, to tulip bolbs looking stark and forelorn, knowing that Spring is rebirth, the beauty so evident in the greeness of life springing anew. Yes, I understand the double meaning contained in this poem, for I like you looked out my backdoor and wondered, will I see the beauty of Spring. Well phrased, the language is crisp, but the lingering question, "will i get to the fresh start of Spring. No missing here Marilyn, maybe because of my age, and physical experiences, and the uphill battles necessary to see how many Springs may be in my future. Born, intermediate life, doing adulthood, marriage, children, the bumpy road of life, how many stark Winters are left, how many Springs to come. Yes it makes one think, doesn't it. Purposefull intentional projection, all the while wondering. Just how many more. Many for you my Friend, free of pain, and enjoyment of lifes pleasures. Nice poem, it makes me realize that other experience the same lot in life, and we all look out our backdoord, not in just the physical sense but the emotional lot of experiencing life.....and you have my friend, and now you'll look out your backdoor to the greenness, of Spring, where new leaves replace dead, dry ones, and the grass isn't blotched and lifeless. Yep! you captured in all. Love and Gods Blessings.....Jo
This Poem was Critiqued By: Turner Lee Williams On Date: 2005-01-21 19:01:49
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.81250
Marilyn--Wecome back!! How goes the rehab? See you've wasted no time-smile. A great return with,IMO, an analogous/prophetic post. I like your idea/view of nature seasonal needs pushing a will onto the land and it's inhabitants: the forcing of most fragile beings to hibernate, lay back and cover/heal/protect themselves until a more favorable phase returns. And, as you relate these oppor- tune times are just around the corner. Lively descriptors/personifications pro- ject vivid imagery of a glorious and sequential warming trend. The last three lines for sure emphasize the theme/tone/analogy/prophesy scribe is hopeful for; "It is then my grass will return to emerald green and warmth shall sooth my unfounded fears that spring will grace my BACKDOOR nevermore." Sorry if I mistated your intentions, but I like my imaginative "take away" from this piece. Take care. TLW
This Poem was Critiqued By: Claire H. Currier On Date: 2005-01-21 06:20:30
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.57143
Glad to hear you are home my friend and that you posted this for us to find......try to remember the pain felt will lessen with each passing day...... From My Backdoor is a befitting title for this one poet...... I see the lawn is brown now, embossed with patches of frozen snow as luminous as crystal jewels. Summer has succumbed to the rude growling howl of winter. good opening stanza poet......you bring us right onto that lawn from your backdoor with its brown spots yet it is those luminous crystal jewels that have caught my eye.....like diamonds dancing across the lake early in the morning light it shines bringing hope of good things to come.....then too I like the ... Summer has succumbed to the rude growling how of winter......indeed these past few weeks here in Tully the snow has flown and the winds have howled day and night.......letting us know for certain winter is not on its way out.....just yet anyway..... you then paint a bleak picture of the nakedness of winter life or lack of it I should say but if you look deep you will find those winter birds that brighten each morning with their songs, their life reflected in the flutter of their wings as they too search for warmth of a new season to come...... Perhaps my heart tells me poet that at some point you might have stood by that backdoor and thought of the operation to come and your fears came pouring forth......will I be able to walk after must have been deep within your thoughts......my ex had three back surgeries and he was very fortunate with each........ Now here you stand poet......your surgery behind you and indeed you are standing......you will watch those butterflies as they too return in the Spring time of the year, as the grass turns to emerald green and the flowers burst forth with new life.......if not life wonderful? Is not the Lord gracious in His love. Enjoyed the read, enjoyed relating it to your surgery though you probably had no such thoughts.....it read well, brought forth many images my friend......now get totally well and I look forward to more of your work....be safe, one day at a time is all I ask of Thee.....God Bless, Claire
This Poem was Critiqued By: Wanda S. Thibodeaux On Date: 2005-01-20 22:50:00
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Dear Marilyn, I hope you are recovering well. This is a lovely ode to winter and even the coming spring. Every line is gentle nature blessing us with abounding beauty. I like the title you have chosen. "Summer has succumbed to the rude growling howl of winter" is my favorite line, tho the entire poem is charged with great descriptive writing. "My tulip bulbs lie beneath like cadavers within their graves blanketed from the cruel catarrh." Fantastic line! What a dark image for the delicate tulip and it works well here. I've so enjoyed this. It was refreshing to find tonight. I have no idea how I will handle the new site when it is completed, lost all the time, probably, still looking forward to it. I don't think you need to change anything. It's a garden of delight already. Take good care. I'm sending you some happy thoughts...get well wishes. My best always, Wanda
This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2005-01-20 19:44:52
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Marilyn Hi, Really delightful! I like the willful leaves sticking to trees. The sunbathed days is good! I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead [you can't help but fear that sun may not revisit] When everything goes away, you have to wonder if they ever 'were'. If God visited me today, I'd pinch myself in disbelief tomorrow. I'd question further later...until soon I wouldn't belive it at all.[I'm a fool!] Hope you fared well under surgery's strife. I loved your beautiful descriptive verbage. Great job and good health to you. del
This Poem was Critiqued By: arnie s WACHMAN On Date: 2005-01-20 17:17:52
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.75000
Nothing to be aprehensive about. It is very descriptive (warm zephyrs, beguiling butterflies). Your verbiage is nothing short of superior, something which I don't ascribe to. Here we don't have snow or much of it, but what we do have is rain and more rain which has catastrophic results in some areas (mudslides, etc.). I would welcome the return of "emerald green" grass for it is forcast for another weeks worth of the wet stuff. Oh where is an ark when one needs one? Thanks for this delightful piece. I trust you are on the mend.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2005-01-20 17:17:44
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Marilyn: I've been happily anticipating this, and am not disappointed! That you are well enough to post this, having made it up and down the stairs, (even with help) gladdens my heart. And I can see it as metaphor for your apprehension before surgery and the healing process, as well as the lovely nature poem that it is. So much to love about it --- where to start? I see the lawn is brown now, embossed with patches of frozen snow as luminous as crystal jewels. Summer has succumbed to the rude growling howl of winter. There is a plenitude of euphony (as Mell would say) the the lines above -- not the least, the splendiferous assonance of "brown now" ("how now brown cow" my English teacher used to have us enunciate!). "growling/howl" and "frozen snow" -- you've used "ow" and "oh" to great effect, but then, I think you even top that with the luxuriant "summer/succumbed" -- is 'u' almost an 'ululant' here? I can imagine a soft howl of winter's rudeness, expressed in the winds, expressed in the underlying worry -- as well as deep appreciation -- in this piece. Gone are the warm zephyrs and sun bathed days and I see a willful leaf is stuck to a lifeless tree. Cumulus clouds slide down the sky and collide with the The speaker almost seems to anticipate never having more "sun bathed days" and the word "lifeless" telegraphs perhaps a fear of death. Quite naturally so, for one facing surgery. That the "willful leaf" clings or is "stuck" to a "lifeless tree" seems like the will-to-live of the speaker. I can also imagine the tree as a metaphor for the spinal canal - the neural tree of the body. The clouds almost seem ominous. I love the way the words in the third line above sound when read aloud -- the many liquid l's and the hard 'c/k' along with the short i -- add an energy to the poem that pulls the reader through the work. pampero, determined to unfasten all clinging fronds. --Ah, a 'cold wind'-- this elicits a sense of anxiety in this reader. My fingers are tingling with cold, as if feeling the pampero peeling the fronds away. A sense of vulnerability is strong here. My tulip bulbs lie beneath like cadavers within their graves blanketed from the cruel catarrh. This simile bothered me when I first read it, as my own tulip bulbs affect me as if they are small fetuses, waiting in the borning earth. Then I understood your reference -- "cadavers" and "graves" are death references, as, I suspect, is "cruel catarrh." Though the bulbs are "blanketed" it is as miniature corpses, instead of incipient blooms. The reference to resurrection is unmistakable with a closer reading. It is easiest to believe in this when spring is in full bloom, rather than when we cannot see evidence of it, when faith must take the place of visible grace. The moisture in the air is characterized as "cruel catarrh" -- which forms an association with recent floods, earthquakes and tsunamis for this reader, rather than the life-giving element of flowing water where it is needed and welcomed. I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead and flickering stars to light my way. How sweet the sleeping moonlight will shine when spring begins to stir. Haze on The speaker's knowledge seems to hinge upon an inner sight. Perhaps the course of the coming surgery, or winter, lead to life and healing, spring with its "brook gladdened meadows ahead" -- and the speaker appears resolved that only good things lie ahead. I believe, too, that I hear someone 'whistling in the dark' as she is naturally afraid of such a momentous occurrence, but an inevitable one as long as we inhabit frail flesh. This bravery gives me hope, too -- and the will to carry on, though the tulip bulbs are "like cadavers" at present. far horizons will lift in the tender sky and the sun will ripen cornfields. Beguiling butterflies will adorn seraphic flowers and larks will fly on high. I love the way you've enjambed "Haze on/far horizons" and the appearance of the sun (Son?) which ripens cornfields. I can't help but sense the harvest being prepared, the favorable outcome of the long, cold winter, the surgery, and ultimately, the life lived in faith in "seraphic/flowers and larks" which will "fly on high." I take spiritual nourishment and strength from this work, which is like a bridge from your ordeal to your present healing, to the life of the world to come. It is then my grass will return to emerald green and warmth shall sooth [my] unfounded fears that spring will grace my backdoor nevermore. Enjoyed the entire poem, and almost felt that it ended for me with "flowers and larks will fly on high." The closing lines reveal the fears which underly the work, and the soothing images of "emerald green and warmth" add to the sense of 'all is well' - and I especially like the inclusion the of word 'grace' in the final line. Applause, and a bouquet of blooming tulips (in reds, yellows and purples) extened. WONDER-FUL! Magnificent offering, once more, Marilyn. You've given graced *us* with your writing, once more. Best always, Joanne
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