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This Poem was Submitted By: Jesus Manuel Lopez On Date: 2005-02-16 17:27:23 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Paper Planes

Heroin white hands silhouetted by grainy pixels revealed the recipe for flight precision folds clean geometry the secret tear eighteen year-old tendons contracted and expanded propelling the plane past nude light bulbs and the sonic rumblings of Ed Sullivan landing softly today plucked up by beaming son a modest legacy from a frozen teenage uncle never to be known except by paper plane

Additional Notes:
My step-brother died at age 18 of a Heroin overdose. I was 7. He taught me how to make a "perfect" paper plane. I have made this type of plane on numerous occasions for my son. No other paper plane that I have seen flies as nicely. Every time I make the plane I remember him.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Tony P Spicuglia On Date: 2005-03-05 12:59:33
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.94737
Jesus, having lost a sister and a brother at very young ages, this piece had a particularly strong impact on me. I look at the pictures, and pass on the retinue, but there remains an uncle and aunt that my children will never know. My brother died at 12 of viral pneumonia, but my sister, in a destructive manner like your brother, committed suicide, and now I only wish I had been closer. Paper Planes The power of your first stanza, the descriptiveness, recalls to us a time of yours, and in that time, we come to know, at least in some aspects, the destructiveness of drug use, but also the warmth and caring of family. In that moment, in front of Sullivan, we watched the plane with you, and missed the brother, through your eyes. landing softly today – such a powerful transition. The plane launched by the older brother, through time, lands at the feet of his nephew, still recalled and duplicated by his brother, and carried with such warmth. “softly”, there we see a moment of your life, your soul, and what we share in, changes us. plucked up by beaming son a modest legacy – You say “modest legacy”, Jesus, the legacy you share, as long as you share it and your son shares it, is a touching, influential legacy, maybe modest to the casual viewer, but to those of us who see more deeply, the legacy, of your words, and your “flight”, exclaims a legacy of wonder, and allows flowers to bloom, from the fertile moment of a young boys soul. from a frozen teenage uncle never to be known except by paper plane – Jesus, this is a wonderful piece, of color, but also of life granted from death, and it takes “caring” of the past, the future, and family, to bring this so alive. I am glad I have shared the moment with you. Thank you greatly.

This Poem was Critiqued By: arnie s WACHMAN On Date: 2005-02-26 20:44:09
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.70000
Wow! and wow again. What a wonderful tribute to remember a not so wonderful time. Heroin white hands silhouetted by grainy pixels....hands covered in heroin dust. Great beginning. It drew me in. revealed the recipe for flight....did it have a tail? precision folds clean geometry the secret tear......I never could make a really good one. What is "the secret tear"? propelling the plane past nude light bulbs.........visions here and the sonic rumblings of Ed Sullivan.............the Saturday Night master. I envision the rumblings of the person launching the plane making noises with his mouth plucked up by beaming son a modest legacy from a frozen teenage uncle never to be known except.....but you do.You remember by paper plane This is a wonderful story of a sad memory told in a simple, uncomplicated way. Kudos. One teeny suggestion: try and come up with another title.

This Poem was Critiqued By: DeniMari Z. On Date: 2005-02-23 18:49:18
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 8.66667
Dear Jesus, I firmly believe the war against illegal drugs will never be won in our lifetime. The addiction is too great, the accessability to easy and the will of those addicted to weak. This is an amazing poem, that pulls the reader in and has been expressed with loving sincerity. The loss of this young life touched you at a personal level and made you a stronger person in the process. I remember back in the 1980's hearing about this same sort of tragedy, people my age then, people I went to school with - hooked and dying for their drugs. Years later, it seems it's only gotten worse, and I shiver when I hear of how many young people are turning to this kind of life, when life offers so much more. Descriptives are good in this piece - Heroin white hands, bloodless - the picture clear of someone strapping their arm to find a vein and inject their drug. God bless you for remembering him through this poem. Sincerely, DeniMari

This Poem was Critiqued By: Troy D Skroch On Date: 2005-02-20 15:14:37
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Jesus, An excellent tribute to personal memory written honestly with a free flowing style as light and airy as the plane held in your son's hands. It's very revealing to stand between the generations watching your child, remembering the past and wondering how the future will play out. I have a nine year old son and find myself talking about things and thinking about things that happened before his time. It brings about a whole host of feelings as I play the part of the bridge. I compliment you on your choice of details and chuckled when I read "the secret tear" remembering the secrets of my plane building past. I think you transistioned time well, not only bringing the past into the present but actually stopping it at the tip of your pen with the last stanza--beautiful and powerful. The simple complexity of life. On an emotional I find myself feeling the loss, finding humor, being parental and applauding your personal management of such a difficult subject. I don't think that it's an accident that your brother perfected the paper plane either. I see that as a metaphor for his feelings regarding a sense of freedom and I love it as an overall metaphor for this poem. I've been flying kites lately. LOL It's been about four years since we talked last, good to see you again, Troy

This Poem was Critiqued By: Paul R Lindenmeyer On Date: 2005-02-17 12:14:35
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.71429
Jesus, engaging vignette of creative childhood shared. The sharp verbiage mimmicking the message and speeding the picture on its folded wings. Very nicely done, bringing this reader back to "Paper Plane" days with vivid memories of Ed Sullivan and sonic rumblings of the times. Vers Libre, my favorite verse, and a today and now piece calling up echoes of days past. Well done, thanks for the post, Peace,Paul

This Poem was Critiqued By: Claire H. Currier On Date: 2005-02-16 22:46:47
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.80000
Poet.....this is a well versed poem which deals with two separate things,.......drugs, paper planes, the fact that your step brother was the one involved and died of an overdose of the drug allows you to keep his memory alive within your heart each time you make such a paper plane that is 'perfect' for flying....... your word flow brings images, ties the subjects together, does not allow the reader to lose interest as some might.....in closing its nice that you have brought the uncle to life, per say, with this paper plane that his nephew is so proud of his dad making......thanks for sharing this most difficult piece to write.....I am certain it is not easy to think about being seven, looking up to an older brother no matter what and then having him taken away in the flash of a moment. I would not change a thing poet it stands very well as it is....God Bless, Claire

This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2005-02-16 21:15:45
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Jesus: This is a remarkable poem, particularly for this reader just now. I recognize you from a few years ago and recall enjoying your poetry and comments then. But to the poem – it stunned me. The visuals are so intense. The soft, yielding ‘h’ sounds in “heroin/white/hands seem to telegraph flowing uninhibited feelings. The second line continues with reverent tone. To begin to show the subject as hands moving within a black and white film is such stark yet tender imagery. The words “grainy pixels” seem to “reveal” or foreshadow his death. His hands look familiar to this reader; though I’ve never seen them, I now have an indelible picture emblazoned on my mental screen. “the recipe for flight” likely refers to the paper planes themselves yet telegraphs that his ‘flight’ from life, though accidental, is soon to come, the photograph lodged in the speaker’s memory. precision folds clean geometry the secret tear –“secret tear” – the tears he could not shed but numbed as well as his precise method of making the planes precise for flight. eighteen year-old tendons contracted and expanded This is so hard to read. I can see his hands so vividly. Your memories of your brother’s hands, with their long fingers and efficiency, and sensitivity— I can visualize him attempting to breathe. You’ve captured the way small moments are expanded as we re-examine final moments or memories or photographs of those we love, especially if they have died tragically. Nothing in the poem is maudlin – it is entirely restrained, which is part of its power. propelling the plane past nude light bulbs and the sonic rumblings of Ed Sullivan The lighting is harsh, sounds gravelly, and the image of the long-dead Ed Sullivan evokes mournfulness that is exquisitely sharp. landing softly today But softened here. The poet, survivor of such a loss, has moved forward with his life and brings the gift of an uncle to his son. plucked up by beaming son a modest legacy Somehow the message here is so much more than ‘life goes on’ or any such saying. What we are to one another is recognized in life’s smallest moments and actions. from a frozen teenage uncle Difficult to read, again, because I cannot help but imagine the young man as literally frozen following his death. His life is stopped abruptly – or the sense of his accompaniment of his younger brother through life is like suspended animation. never to be known except by paper plane Pared down to its essentials, this poem is slim, as unobtrusive yet powerful as the hands that made the paper planes. I am sorry for your loss, and as one who grieves a similarly tragic loss, recognize the healing which such writing can bring – to one’s self and to others. Bravo. This is so well done, in my estimation, that it is nearly impossible for me to find the words I want just now. My best to you, Joanne

This Poem was Critiqued By: Sandee L McMullan On Date: 2005-02-16 21:01:17
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.94118
Oh my, the first words hold my attention and wake me up after reading the title. I like “paper planes” and this initially sparked play and craft. However, first word “ heroin ” brings a whole other meaning, alluding to high flight, breaking barriers of control, power as a drug. Voluminous meaning here to start with and impacts the reader; therein having to make a choice of reading on and soliciting reader’s opinion on the subject. I have an interest to see how this poem deals with this subject; it doesn’t let me down in its unique approach. Language is concise words placed and chosen for affect. “recipe for flight” and “precision folds clean geometry” delivers intention and a tone asserting the perfection of the character and supposed safety, imo. I get confused with “the secret tear” and its link to eighteen year-old. I think a line break would help to pause for punctuation, or the punctuation itself would help. Does eighteen start a new sentence is my confusion. And is “tear” a verb or a noun? Its not clear. Imagery of “nude light bulbs” I expect these are the see-through to the filament glass type. I like this affect and it takes on the personal traits. Ed Sullivan gives a date and expectancy of time referencing. Good; gives some clues of performing and linked to the lifestyle of “paper planes”, in my opinion. Hits the title. This piece takes on the metaphor at this point as I am able to climb inside of the lines “plucked up by a beaming son”. Hits hard at emotes at this point. Tone changes to somber sadness at the allusion of death / frozen. (lead to believe over-dozing) sighs. Ending punches the reality. I get the clear sense of drugs inside the folded paper that gives flight like a paper airplane. I enjoyed this very much, even with subject matter. This is written in such a way to show perspective of poetic mind frame. Unusual look at this; leaves me haunted by flight and the images of airplanes that I never thought of before. Superb in that way. . . . . Regards PS: Sorry, I never read footnotes until after I read and critique the poem. I want the poem to stand on its own in its own light, the footnotes separate. Upon reading these, over-dozing is rightly said. The poem does stand on its own without the footnotes. I am sorry to hear of this sadness of step-brother. The poem captures the essence of the footnotes. Take care of you Jesus.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2005-02-16 20:39:43
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.68750
Jesus, This is quite sad and almost black-white startling. The story is true and that just adds to the pain and sadness contained in this piece. Thinking of a family member via a paper airplane is too bad and yet it’s something nice too. Your son may not see or talk with him but you can help him know him. Speaking of him, writing of him [as this poem is] And by plucking up his planes. Your poem flows well when read aloud. Subject: Uncle’s death remembered Title: [does it add to the piece?] Paper Plane is good and obvious, but could be ‘bigger’ like this example: “Flights Precision Fold” Form/content do compliment each other/makes easy reading/like a paper, plane falling……….. Rhyme; no rhyme, assonance-revealed recipe, propelling plane past/by beaming/from frozen/never known……….alliteration assonance-white silhouette.[t sounds] What is the author's meaning? His son will not know his uncle. What is the author's premise or message? Misses his Uncle What strong points does the author use to support the main point? Drugs kill and ruined a young life Do I understand or think it’s unclear? Very perfectly clear What are the author's underlying assumptions? His uncle died before he lived as a family member possible revisions; white hands [good vision] silhouetted by [black?]grainy pixels [visual/black-white?] revealed the recipe for flight precision folds clean geometry the secret tear eighteen year-old tendons contracted and expanded propelling the plane past nude light bulbs and the sonic rumblings of Ed Sullivan landing softly [gently] today plucked up [great word use!] by beaming son[nephew]or [my beaming son] a modest legacy from a frozen teenage uncle never to be known except by [a] paper plane[or ‘s?] Nice job Jesus, Dellena

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