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This Poem was Submitted By: Lennard J. McIntosh On Date: 2005-02-16 12:52:40 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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A Different Prayer

Housed in bearded memory, Thoughts feel their way Along the passage of time, Back to childhood. I am kneeling There at bedside. I hear my whispered plea, That the future comes soon. Though today, I sit aging, Passed by many futures, Having heard rustling pages Bring me here, To this hesitation The present. As the clock ticks Its relentless move To still another future, I realize I don’t want To be here - or there. I want to go back, To climb a tree, To throw a ball, I want To be young again!

This Poem was Critiqued By: Jennifer j Hill On Date: 2005-03-05 09:28:05
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Dear Lennard, The contest is almost over and I realize I didn't get a chance to comment on this melancholy, stirring poem. Never enough time...(funny, that seems to be the message here as well--no amount would be enough!) I just don't want to let this one go without saying how effective this writing is. There is imagry and longing not just conveyed but injected into the reader. You make us live it with you. I really hold this one dear. Blessings, Jennifer

This Poem was Critiqued By: arnie s WACHMAN On Date: 2005-03-03 17:49:53
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.71875
Oh yeah, but how young? I wouldn't mind being a teen again and re-live certain portions of it. You must have been feeling fairly melancholy when you wrote this.But you know Lennar, there is no such thing as the future, and the past there is only a memory. So being here or there as you put it doesn't really matter...but daydreaming is nice sometimes isn't it? And that's what you are doing. So I hope your prayer gets answered.. I liked this piece. It took me from one place] to the other very easily and held my interest.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2005-02-26 19:16:49
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.54545
Lennard, Alas as youth we can't wait to grow up. Celebrating every birthday hooray! Then we finally get there and are amazed at the work envolved to just make it. It never seems like we were prepared. Or things could have been so very differnt! I use to like clocks/what a fool I was. What's good for you, is you still have the ability to create with your poetry. That is a wonderful 'gift' you've been given. Keep writing....it's a saving grace. Good job. Go toss a ball in your mind.....I'll bet your pretty athletic! Then toss that ball onto paper. [a challenge for you!] sweat/muscels/tears/fears...... Best to you, Dellena

This Poem was Critiqued By: Turner Lee Williams On Date: 2005-02-17 13:39:22
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.93333
Len--Nothing complicated here, excellent verbiage created vivid imagery of protag- onist desperately plea/want to ward off antagonist(aging process), and of course he will be quite unsuccessfully. In my opinion, death, aging andtaxes, are the three (ok-make it two-smile) things which can't be avoided. I too share your sentiments, however, at my age, I give more thought and effort to the interim (that time between birth and death), trying to make it mean something of value to me, yours and ours. Great lament/prayer! TLW

This Poem was Critiqued By: Claire H. Currier On Date: 2005-02-17 03:07:36
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.80000
Poet you have brought out the same emotions in all of us that perhaps rushed through the years we did not enjoy, those that made us want to be bigger, taller, older, able to do things we could not at a certain age and then......bang...here we are and what do we want? To be able to go back to those days when it was easy to be young, free from worry and cares, able to climb that tree, throw that ball, play with your friends and not worry about a car driving by shooting at you just because...... Good structure, nice word flow, seems to me that you are giving us a peek at yourself in today's facial hair, for you find your memories housed in bearded memory.......further enjoyed the rustle of the pages you seem to hear as time passes by.....does for all of us and if we are fortunate to make memories to keep then that is good......to just wish for a time to be here, let one day pass by then another with no thoughts of what if....that would be sad indeed......yet, the childhood of yesterday still calls us back....some of those friends back then have already passed on leaving one feel more alone then ever........if you notice poet, no matter how old your body might become the spirit of the mind remains as young as your heart desires....my 92 year old mama used to tell me that........with a twinkle in her eye of course......God I lmiss her so. Thanks for posting and sharing with us the emotions packed within the lines of this one......enjoy today and each today that you are allowed.....for life is a gift from God to be enjoyed to the fullest.....God Bless, Claire

This Poem was Critiqued By: Paul R Lindenmeyer On Date: 2005-02-16 18:08:52
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.66667
Lennard, wonderful piece witnessing the prayer of youth, and the realities of age. Our yearning for carefree times past seems to appear more and more as we witness children at play, a baseball game, a youngster first learning to ride a bike. Those vivid memories seem to present themselves as we delve deeper and deeper into our time, and mortality's apparent unrelenting gaze is more and more upon us. I've a dear friend who's often said that we only take two things with us from this earth, faith and memories. Well, I think the more happy memories we secure, the happier we are today and the happier we'll be tomorrow. Your bedside prayer is honest and touching, and the verbiage is crystal clear. True here and now poetry is my favorite, and this piece is as honest as it gets. You bring back my youth with your verse, and I can ask for no more. Thanks for the post. Peace, Paul

This Poem was Critiqued By: Tony P Spicuglia On Date: 2005-02-16 17:52:59
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Lennard, for one who prays, but at times doesn’t know why, there is a certain ambiguity attached with anything referencing prayer. What I looked for was a settling of that ambiguity within the meat of the piece. There it was, for now. A Different Prayer – Immediately, am aware of a “difference”, it heightens my interest. Housed in bearded memory, Thoughts feel their way Along the passage of time, Back to childhood. – “hooked” as a moth to the light, or a hungry fish to the lure. I have traveled with you, to watch, to see the boy, to be a part of a life too familiar, yet to detached to reach. Time travel without a traveler. I am kneeling There at bedside. I hear my whispered plea, That the future comes soon. – This poem is quite poignant to me at this time. It is not only the ending of the stick being shorter than the beginning, but also something my son said yesterday, and last week. He is six, and asks me, when will I grow up, it takes so long. I shared with him that I wished I was young and the two of us could play like kids. It was a novel thought for him, but I encouraged him that “getting older” comes soon enough!! Though today, I sit aging, Passed by many futures, Having heard rustling pages – excellent metaphor to stories read, and eras past. Bring me here, To this hesitation The present. – Lennard, how much a part of my life are your words. They jump out at me, chastising and loving me, and I cannot escape them. Here am I. As the clock ticks Its relentless move To still another future, I realize I don’t want To be here - or there. Ah, the here, and the there, with the what was lost to seclusion. A very powerful relief of the geography of life. So much treasure worn around the neck of the accumulated necklace of living, now would we give all of it back to add another day to the end. I want to go back, To climb a tree, To throw a ball, I want To be young again! – Beautiful and haunting, Lennard, a look into many of us, and into life.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2005-02-16 16:03:51
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Dear Len: What a delightful find for this reader. I've just returned from a long walk around the lake (again) and can feel that I am no longer young. There was a time when I would have taken the 'long' way, and not looked at the ground for tree roots and rocks which can trip an unwary walker. I might not have looked to see where the benches were and if they were occupied. <smile> The poem is 'just right' in tone and formatting -- I cannot think of any needed changes. Housed in bearded memory, Thoughts feel their way Along the passage of time, Back to childhood. I enjoyed the oxymoronic (?)idea that “thoughts feel” especially here. The concept that we can revisit the past “along the passage of time” is wonderfully explored in this poem of yearning for lost youthfulness, Len. One can take a dual meaning from “passage” as either ‘path’ or ‘voyage’ I think. That the memories cited are termed as “bearded” gives this poem a certain masculine flavor, if you will, appropriate to the poet’s gender. However this is a universal poem which will appeal to all of a certain age – and perhaps be instructive to those who have not yet reached it and, as this writer when young, surmised that ‘age’ did not apply to same. I am kneeling There at bedside. I hear my whispered plea, That the future comes soon. The older poet revisits the child he once was, to observe prayers intended to hasten the future. This is very effective, IMO, as I think all readers will be taken back into each one’s own childhood. I know that I was. Tomorrow could never come soon enough for me then. Though today, I sit aging, Passed by many futures, Having heard rustling pages Bring me here, To this hesitation The present. What a wonderful, original way to designate time, as “this hesitation” – this telegraphs very well, in two words, the substance of the present moment. As soon as we speak it, it is already gone. I love the auditory imagery of the “rustling pages.” As the clock ticks Its relentless move To still another future, I realize I don’t want To be here - or there. This is a striking realization (pun may be intentional) as the clock ticks, only to strike the hour which has already passed. I think the dash suits this moment of epiphany beautifully. It is only a moment and the length of the dash portrays it. However, its brevity does not belie the importance of its message. I want to go back, To climb a tree, To throw a ball, I want To be young again! Though written with a light touch, the ending of the poem resonates powerfully with this reader, as I’m certain it will with others. Those things which were so easily accomplished in youth become impossible or difficult with the accumulation of years. I think each of us has had a least one moment when we become aware of bodily limitations. Ever one to redecorate, I decided to change the window treatment. When I attempted to quickly step up onto a chair to reach the valence, I found that my body did not obey my brain’s command. It was as recalcitrant as a mule! Then, how I wished to be young again, and with an exclamation point! Well done. Enjoyable, truthful, and beautifully clear. Kudos! My best always, Joanne

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