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This Poem was Submitted By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2005-02-14 18:37:52 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Pondering Spring

This morning I step into woods over rutted mud past the trees' soft caves, take unfamiliar footpaths, find twosomes of mallard ducks chatting in spotted sunlight. Modest hens glance over stippled shoulders, drakes’ heads glisten bottle green as they talk in quick quacks, planning ventures past the pond or on it. I turn and slide in slippery muck left from morning’s rain. Roots and river stones slip from softened earth’s wet fingers, as if they know wake-robins will still turn shades of violet as they shed petals-- hungry fledgling birds will flutter and wait-a-while weather will glide away-- and again it will be spring. And I will be the glad being who is in it.

Additional Notes:
Wake-robins = trilliums

This Poem was Critiqued By: Rebecca B. Whited On Date: 2005-03-07 16:48:05
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.00000
Hi Joanne! I guess you could say that I am fudging a bit on this crit, as I have already read the other version, and I like it better! Both are good, but 'Becoming Spring'just seems to have a smoother flow to it. For one thing, the lengthening of each line allows the reader to become rapt in each thought without so many breaks in the lines. "This morning I step into woods over rutted mud past the trees' soft caves, take unfamiliar footpaths, find twosomes of mallard ducks chatting in spotted sunlight. Modest hens glance over stippled shoulders, drakes? heads glisten bottle green as they talk in quick quacks, planning ventures past the pond or on it." [this is the main line in this version that bothers me...I have read it several times, and keep wanting to make it read, 'or upon it' instead of 'or on it', but I see at the end, why your restricted it to 3 syllables.] "I turn and slide in slippery muck left from morning?s rain. Roots and river stones slip from softened earth?s wet fingers," [I really like the other version better here, as the words just seem to slip and slide with you! LOL] ...I think I am moving on to the other version, so that I can say positive, wonderful things! I would have liked this one though, had I not read the other version first! LOL...see you in the other crit! Beck

This Poem was Critiqued By: arnie s WACHMAN On Date: 2005-03-05 19:36:01
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.64103
Ahhh. I was about to ask about wake-robins. Never heard of a trillium called that before. And they say we don't learn anything every waking minute. So glad you took me on your walk. I can almost smell the moss and the earth beneath your feet as you slip and slide (sounds like a song I know). We have wait awhile weather here too...we say wait 5 mins. and it'll change...or 10 mins. wherever you're from. There are lots of Mallards and drakes, etc. here on my coast. I understand the whales are coming down, and I hope I see them. Mmmm Spring. A very descriptive piece...slippery muck, rutted mud, etc. Yup!

This Poem was Critiqued By: Claire H. Currier On Date: 2005-03-01 09:22:50
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.71429
Good structure, word flow, images, giving forth one the anticipation of what is to come and the beauty which shall surround it......you have brought this reader within the lines, the spaces and the coming of Spring.....softened earth's wet fingers is so beautiful.........one can feel the touch of it.......you are a creator of beauty my friend....thank you for postinig and sharing, God Bless, Claire found this one after I did the other and I do so enjoy them both..........I knew of this one though having read it many times before critiquing it.........

This Poem was Critiqued By: Troy D Skroch On Date: 2005-02-20 00:50:17
Critiquer Rating During Critique: Unknown
Joanne, I like that you start this poem with an action. To "step into" the woods. It shows commitment. Mentally I'm standing in front of the woods. A curtain I often times part to a private wooded solace I choose to call "the place where I am." Into the woods to ponder spring. The humid smells of regeneration and birthing of new vitality all around you sending out the poem to the reader. And the "rutted mud". How can we have spring without mud. We step gingerly over those old footprints, tire tracks or wash outs into the forest; into the prime and fertile forest; into a place of quiet, of mystery, of hope, of moistened eyes realizing the beauty of all that is around us--and at that moment we knowing that we are not alone. That the woods is filled with life, that it is so symbolic of life, that it fits so perfectly with our pondering of spring. It is here that spring can be spring untouched by the pavement and concrete and unasked for noises that accompany us through most of our day. We tread lightly with reverence, a deep felt primordial respect for something that chooses to share if we'll listen. And move on acclimatized to the moment trying to figure out how to fit back into it without intellectualizing the experience and failing our own test. Breathe, look, listen be refreshed and share in the joy of drakes and hens. Wonder about their day, their feelings of adventure and survival. See the dappled sunlight lighting our path, feel the mud, sense and smell the coming of flowers. And then you say "and wait-awhile-weather will glide away --and again it will be spring and I will be the glad being who is in it" A+ You passed your own exam. Built the poem to the point of the answer. That is clever Joanne. HEHE Now that you are trapped helplessly in my dungeon of critique I can attack a few things. Like where are the 2000lb red eyed, horned, winged, yellow bellied, howling tree frogs? Actually, after reading several of your poems and extending into the personifications of nature you use so well, I have to combine your works to truly appreciate how crafted you really are. In other words, only by melding the whole, do we get the opportunity to celebrate the beautiful expression of this artist. There's a much larger piece being written out of all of this that combines your emotion and intellect into the purest form of communication, one akin and even closer than the holding of hands--poetry. You make me work so hard sometimes Joanne. And he fell asleep beneath the airy howls of the red-eyed, horned, winged, yellow-bellied Washington tree frogs, Troy

This Poem was Critiqued By: Janet A Burg On Date: 2005-02-19 12:19:10
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
JoAnne: A poem about the early signs that Spring is about to happen. Free verse, two stanzas of
lines each. Technical Suggestions: This is a nice poem, containing details and observations not always available to us. I'm not fond of the title, "Pondering Spring." I don't think that's what's happening. It's more like "Discovering Spring" or "Hoping for" or "Welcoming..." or "Finding...", but there isn't very much philosophical thought in this poem (which might prompt "pondering"); rather, you've gathered some unique signs of life's activities at this period of time when the ice and snow melt and living creatures are getting ready to be active again. The title shouldn't overburden the poem or raise expectations in the reader that are not fulfilled. I would suggest reversing the order of lines 2 and 3 -- get the ruts in place before stepping into the woods. That means putting commas after "morning" in the first line, and after "mud" in the new second line. Then your adventure into the woods holds together, too. I'm not totally happy with the line endings -- what is the purpose of the breast-like forms of these two verses? -- For example, line 7, "chatting in spotted sunlight. Modest" -- the natural line ending is "... sunlight." The next line would be "Modest hens glance" and the next would be "over stippled shoulders." The natural line endings have been forced into seclusion to create the "form". Line
, "or on it" -- is the pond still iced over? Ducks would be "in" a pond if it is open water. In lines 23 and 24, you have the same verbs: "will be". That's close juxtapositioning. What about having line 23 be something like, "and again Spring is coming" In line 20, I question the need for a dash at the end of the line. A period would work as well or better, making line 21 start a new idea, "Hungry fledgling birds". (I suspect that fledglings come later in the season; the spring activity is parent birds getting together and nesting, but I don't live where you live.) Lines 24 and 25, for the sake of your form, are again broken at unusual places for line endings. The natural break occurs in line 24 after the words "will be", and "the glad being" would be next, and "who is in it" would form one complete line. Now, I could see the two stanzas forming a "pond" if you reverse the margin of the first stanza and place it side-by-side with the second: This morning I turn and slide over rutted mud, in slippery muck I step into woods left from morning's rain at the trees' soft caves Roots and river stones slip and so on, until the oval shapes are complete, but the danger of that would be that people would read the lines across rather than down on the left and then down on the right. :) I especially like your unique lines, like "chatting in spotted sunlight", and "from softened earth's wet fingers", and "wait-a-while weather..." Good writing; vivid images. Thank you for letting me read your poem and critique it. I hope my comments are helpful. Regards, Janet

This Poem was Critiqued By: Jennifer j Hill On Date: 2005-02-19 11:35:10
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Dear Joanne, I know I already compared this poem to the revision, but I can't help commenting specificly on this one because I saw and read it first, before you submitted the revision, and I enjoyed it so much! First because the title is one of my favorite pastimes, "Pondering Spring". But also because of the look of the structure. To me the structure of the stanzas represents the volume of the spring creatures as they sing in harmony, starting low and quiet(shorter lines) with the first sounds of frogs and early birds and then getting gradually louder (longer lines)until they reach full fledged spring! Like a symphony led by the Creator himself! This particular part gives me goose bumps because it exudes the feeling that all creation is connected through it's Creator and all is in harmony with one another. This feeling is especially emphasized in the spring, when all awakens and is reborn (as you point out thru out the entire piece) : "Roots and river stones slip from softened earth’s wet fingers, as if they know wake-robins will still turn shades of violet as they shed petals--" Well, I guess I have to say it again. I love pondering spring and thank you for allowing me another way to prolong my ponderings. Blessings, Jennifer

This Poem was Critiqued By: Mell W. Morris On Date: 2005-02-16 13:19:42
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Enchantress of spring: I do not know if there's a name like callogram nor how to spell it for your wonderful poem, but it must be difficult to get the words placed where you want them. I feel I haven't seen nor spoken with you in forever. I keep trying to e-mail and have lost several (I think I dilly-dip for so long, they think I'm dead) and cut me off. I cannot use the forum very well. Whenever I'm there, nil occurs but I read a post and responses from five hours ago, try to post, and the system tells me the topic is closed. Oh, okay. I'll keep trying but I find it difficult as all things computerated are like the burning bush for me. I believe it was there and for a reason but I'll never receive a sensible explanation (for me). Oh, it nearly is printemps. We had no winter, not even a sweater-wearing day. So here we are with the sun shining in the 60's, pondering Joanne who is musing about spring. The 1st shaped stanza is an account in poetic linguistry about the empress going to the woods, and EVERYONE is talking. And it appears they are FULLY engaged in talking. The appealing mallards are chatting in spotted sunlight...a rich scene and I really like "modest hens glance over stippled shoulders." That is perfection in description but would you swear in court these hens are modest? They are the only fowl with walk-on roles but no speaking parts. Those gorgeous drakes with bottle-green glistening are discussing (Quick quacks or quips) and formulating plans of ventures near or on the pond. Allits everywhere...but I'm savoring the taste of glistenening bottle green. At times, you remind me so much of Ted Hughes, I get my latest book by him. (His only published work about his wife, "Birthday Letters", which all Plath readers own. I assume). I am in this place you have created and I never want to leave. The 1st line of S 2 is funny but likely did not FEEL funny, a-slide. I can smell the wet earth's fingers, maybe a hint of fungus, moss, mushroom, lichen. People say they don't smell but they do to me. Then I had to look up wake-robins which you explain are trilliums, and learn for the 1st time that these flowers are PURPLE. "Turn shades of violet as they shed petals--" It is when you've hit your groove in nature that we receive "hungry fledgling will flutter and" *wait-a-while weather* will glide away-- *exquisite* and again it will be spring. ...there should be trumpets here.... And I will be the glad being who is in it." Spotlight dims, bows head, walks from the stage. The audience is still traumatized and rapurated, on their feet, "encore" resounding. Names of poems being shouted; "Blue Dragonfly"..."Across the Night's Obsidian Sky"..."Buick Special"..."Splendor in the Pages of a Book"...."A Little Bit of Heaven"..."Insects and Other Tiny Nations"...."Lunar Longing"... Enter Stage Left, she reads with her smile, "By The Pond." Stage is very empty with her absence. And play over, poem to be read again and again but a bit of sorrow that the first experience is gone. A gem of a poem, a joy to my soul which hurts so badly. Thank you for giving me a reason to get up in the mornings. With complete sincerity, Mell

This Poem was Critiqued By: cheryl a kelley On Date: 2005-02-15 13:33:51
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Joanne, These line produce very vivid images for me This morning I step into woods over rutted mud (i can see myself on the farm stepping on hardened rudded mud made by a tractor) past the trees' soft caves, ( i see the way trees bending together make a cave) I love this line find twosomes of mallard ducks over all the poem sets a mood, it's that mood of exploration and wonderment of nature. You've managed to create it well. You've done it through images, but also through the way all the words sound together. For me, the first stanza is stronger than the second, but I suspect that has more to do with my familiarity with the images in the first, rather than any kind of statement about the quality of the writing. A great piece. Thanks for sharing! Cheryl

This Poem was Critiqued By: marilyn terwilleger On Date: 2005-02-15 10:37:57
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Hi Joanne, What a lovely tribute to spring, or in my case it would be a fervent prayer as we have snow coming down here. Some of the words and phrases you have put together must be devine inspirations as they are so unique and poetic....'rutted mud past the trees' soft caves' from these lines until the end you held my attention with your surpurb imagery....'twosomes of mallard ducks chatting in spotted sunlight' I love..spotted sunlight...when the sky is dotted with big fluffy clouds spots of sunlight appear everywhere and move around in concert with the ever changing clouds. My little dog follows the spots as she loves the sunlight....'drake's heads glisten blotted green as they talk in quick quacks (wonderful!) I have sat in many a duck blind with my husband waiting for the mallards to fly over head...I was always a little gald when they didn't as I hated to see them shot...but that was his passion so I did it too. I could prepare all kinds of wild meat but cooking duck to an edible state was pretty much beyond me!... ...'roots and river stones slip from softened earth's wet fingers, as if they know wake-robins (love this) will still turn shades of violet as they shed petals-hungry fledgling birds will flutter ( great 'f' sounds in fledgling/flutter) and wait-a-while weather will glide away (wait/while/weather/will) amazing...glide away and again it will be spring...and I will be the glad being who is in it' You have used a plethora of descriptors here that only your could have thought of. I can see you stepping into the woods not really knowing what you will find there but certain what ever it is you will be pleased. A dense wooded area or a forest of pine trees hold a certain mystic. I am always sure there are eyes watching me... a deer, an elk, birds, and in some cases frogs in the ponds, croaking atop their rocks or pads. I know we share a profound love of nature and all its mysteries. In our early years Dale was a guide for hunters who traveled to Wyoming in quest of a big game trophy. We were always amazed at how much these men did not know about hunting and the great out-doors. But we had to take into consideration that most of them came from big cities where the only place they could see how we lived was in magazines. But the flip side of that is if I were to travel to their home towns I would be equally amazed. Thank you for taking me on a walk in the woods with you....I enjoyed every minute of it and saw such lovely things and also you have given me a peek into your world. I appreciate that as my world is covered in snow! Blessings...Marilyn

This Poem was Critiqued By: Lennard J. McIntosh On Date: 2005-02-14 22:41:00
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Re: “Pondering Spring” To begin, I must tell you that I like the concrete effect you have structured in each of the thirteen line stanzas. Perhaps the ascending lines reaching their zenith in the middle of each stanza and then descending, is intended to image a flock of ducks in flight? [More likely, not ... :o)] In any event, concrete poetry is something not often seen anymore and it’s a welcome variation. “past the trees' soft caves” *** This is interesting, Joanne. I like the wording, however, cannot quite catch the image. “mallard ducks chatting in spotted sunlight.” *** A turn to personifying the mallards; Donald and Daisy? “in slippery muck left from morning’s rain.” *** When I read this, I thought of what I presume to be increased rainfall on the West coast, substantially more than the East, I understand. “Roots and river stones slip from softened earth’s wet fingers,” *** One has to be good with words to write like this, milady! Good job! “wake-robins” *** I have never known trilliums in this delightful depiction. [I added it to the long list of things I haven’t known.] “wait-a-while weather will glide away” *** Oh yes, I heard of West-coast weather being described this way. You cornered the saying nicely. You have managed the subject in classic-Joanne style. I’m certain that you will have every reader along with you on the stroll. Kind regards, Len

This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2005-02-14 18:41:48
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.70000
Joanne, I'm trying a new way to critique/hope it's helpful. What is the author's main point? I think she’s mainly saying: the wet winter will be gone soon and she’ll be glad. The idea of this piece is to say: Even now in this weather life in the woods goes on.. Purpose: Showing awareness of forest life and how she feels about it. The underlying assumption of the author: is spring’s coming. No argument: for or against. support presented: fledging birds/spring wake robins My reaction: It is well organized, a little vague-here as if they know wake robins will still turn shades of violet as they shed petals, [I’m not sure what turns violet? Shedding petals?] There seemed to be a lot of ‘will’s’ in the last stanza. easy to read: comforting, like a walk in the woods. Good job! The shape didn’t harm the read, it possibly enhanced it. I liked the bottle green headed drakes. Enjoyable. My best to you Dellena

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