This Poem was Submitted By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2005-02-25 20:10:00 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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She-Who-Dreams

Calls clouds to tumble their soft tears on her waiting face for parched fields of grass. Weaves threads of weather’s  whirl and stir into night, then makes quilts of stars. Only then, spirit mountains chant pale moons into the palms of her nimble hands.

Copyright © February 2005 Joanne M Uppendahl


This Poem was Critiqued By: arnie s WACHMAN On Date: 2005-03-05 14:57:06
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.62162
Oh yes Indian lore well written. Soft. Gentle.Making quilts of stars. I just loved that line. Beautiful. I can see it. I was enchanted! Great title and it flows right into this piece.


This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne Duval Morgan On Date: 2005-03-05 12:00:22
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Mother Earth caught up strongly in this poem, it definately has that Indian Flavor, and presents wonderfully well. You caught all the nuances Joanne, per usual you project wonderfully well, and I love the quiet sembelance of this poem, and really admire Indian beliefs. Parched earth, calling for rain, to make everything grow, then the night fire of seeing the distant glow of planets in our solar system. You left out nothing, and it's great with that Title, that alone Indicates Indian flavor. Great job, enjoyable from the pen of our resident poetress....love it. Love, God Kissed this earth and sent Mother Earth as our guardian....Jo Mo (Better Late then never, huh?)
This Poem was Critiqued By: Tony P Spicuglia On Date: 2005-03-03 19:53:40
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Joanne, there is a reach when you write, a reach into the souls of those who know themselves, and whose soul has recognized beauty, in beauty’s terms. In so few words, may I ride the dream for a moment, and share it with you? She-Who-Dreams – “who”, “who”, dreams, the dreams, “who dreams” that said, it is. Calls clouds to tumble their soft tears on her waiting face for parched fields of grass. – In first read, it seems there is redemption sought for the thirsty, for the needy, yet you have said “waiting face”, ah, Joanne, the hope is not without knowledge, the needy are really the caterpillars who will meet transformation when the metamorphosis occurs. Parched fields of grass- like spring awaiting the end of winter, the fields await the rebirth of rain, there is hope, and I share the call with you. Weaves threads of weather’s whirl and stir into night, then makes quilts of stars. – She looks out over the universe, and finds the themes of its beauty, the patterns in the incomprehensible, beauty in that beyond beauty, yet, Joanne, she makes the quilt, she absorbs the weathers properties, the skies resonance, beauty’s valuation, and she has an answer, she weaves the beauty to the soul, and the soul matches the beauty as a part of the quilt. Only then, spirit mountains chant pale moons into the palms of her nimble hands. – There, in the hope, in the encompassing pattern of the quilt, the spirit soars, the mountains sing in the resonance, and it all, all the creation that maintains an innate beauty, is preserved in the creators wisdom, the tracing of each track required to extol her inspiration, spirit mountains, pale moons, nimble hands, the creator and the creation. This is such a beautiful piece Joanne. I am so inspired. Thank you.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Claire H. Currier On Date: 2005-03-01 09:19:19
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.71429
Once more you have created a piece of beauty from within......good structure, word flow, images, emotions associated with.......so much my friend.....I can see the dryness of the earth which surrounds her as she stands searching with her heart and soul the sky above for the clouds as they hopefully stop will soon burst forth cool water to quench such a thirst awaiting each drop falling from the sky.......and once the land is satisfied and the clouds go on she has quilted the night sky with her stars which shall shine on into eternity.......thank you again for posting and sharing your talent with us.....God Bless, Claire
This Poem was Critiqued By: Troy D Skroch On Date: 2005-03-01 01:49:27
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.84211
Joanne, This is madly beautiful to the point that I need a chaperone to be here with you tonight. Oh my goodness you've completely given yourself over to these three stanzas. I'm fascinated, in awe, and somehow understand the relationship I see here between you and your writing on a completely emotional level. And you know what, that's how I like it, I don't want to think anymore. LOL If you had any idea of the poem I've been working on you might understand what I'm feeling right now. I better slip back into one of my other personalities before I compromise my sensibilities. "Calls clouds to tumble their soft tears on her waiting face for parched fields of grass" Oh, Joanne, we are thirsty to the point of tears for new knowledge and emotional fulfillment, if we could only do this and be refreshed; turned green again, watered by life each day of our existence. And we can, even if it is only in our dreams. I remember running to the top of a high hill to meet the coming of a storm on my parents farm when I was velvet buck. And just standing there watching the thunderheads move across the valley, waiting for the wind and admiring the lightening. The wind would hit my face, the rain would wash me and occasionally I would feel like I was about to be electrocuted. LOL But I was alive. There's nothing like an outdoor shower to give you that feeling and quench the thirst of your ground. Weaves threads of weather’s whirl and stir into night, then makes quilts of stars. Yes, the transition to night. A quilt of stars to blanket over us now that we've allowed ourselves to receive the blessings of the rain, the tears, the love of life. Resting in the starlight we receive the gift of the moon. Only then, spirit mountains chant pale moons into the palms of her nimble hands. This stanza is amazing. "Spirit mountains" to me belong to the dreamscape, but also symbolize all the lives that came before us in previous generations. The moon is their gift, their way of saying "good job baby bird, remember to keep your mouth open. LOL This is special living writing. I'm impressed and happy for you. It was an experience to read and that's the highest compliment I can give. Joanne, I’m tired to the point of tears. I really must sleep now. Perhaps, I'll leave my body later tonight and in ethereal form visit this again. when the rain is a long time coming always remember it's good to be loved by your poetry, Troy
This Poem was Critiqued By: Patricia Gibson-Williams On Date: 2005-02-27 02:22:02
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
This was just so beautiful, that my first thought was simply; Oh. I don’t know how to explain how much it touched me, in it’s elegant eloquence. I loved it from the title to the final line, and I found peace in the thought of the dreamer having such power. I’d say more but you’ve given me an idea for a poem and I’m off to jot down some thoughts before they fade. Thank you for sharing this. Patti.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Mell W. Morris On Date: 2005-02-26 18:26:00
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
JoUp,LL,Em: Is there nothing beyond the ken and scope of a powerfully spiritual woman? I immediately think of this as I read your title...that she may be of a tribe and this title is given to the wise woman within their kith. The reader is drawn in immediately because of your 1st words: Calls clouds to tumble their soft tears on her waiting face for parched fields of grass. Clouds cry at her command. She uses words of assonance given her in her dreams to bring rain. This sage of the group must bestow the title in linear fashion or some have powers that the followers see and subsequently will obey only HER lead. Allits of weaves/weather's/whirl and to make quilts of stars, she utilizes whirl/stir. Who but this enchantress Dahl could weave thread from weather? I find I'm bowing my head in respect of such a beautiful woman who reminds me of a darling friend of mine...but I cannot see to write in said position and also, my crown doesn't fit squarely when I brow and bow. I wonder if God bestowed adequate strength for her to water the parched earth, create a quilt clustered with stars and after all that, moons are chanted into her nimble hands by the spirit mountains. A rhetorical question, of course. That is, 'pale' moons into the 'palm' of her hands. And would I like to see her quilts! Dear friend Em, I think you've come closest in "Dreamer" to sharing yourself, your alter with the reader. I know how it felt to me. My (One of my many) doctor was telling me the importance of dreams, the differences in dreaming rates among intelligent, in creative people, in self-healing, and much more. That area of our life as humans fascinates me and I have a deep feeling you are one of the chosen..."Come, be fishers of men..." A critique is not the place for this talk and I'm going into overload. So altho I doubt the discussion between us two is finished ( by far) but this is not the time nor place. Your best.***** My best wishes, Mell-if
This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2005-02-26 17:34:28
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.54545
Joanne, To me it sounds like the clouds are tear-ing over the face of mother earth! And the quilt blanket of stars her coverlet. And the mountains her upheld hands holding the moon['s?] I know you probably want the[she] to be you but this woks so well to me if it's the earth mother.. I SIMPLY LOVE this and to me one of your very best! Theres nothing pretentious or love stuff and yet deep caring for things more and bigger and better than yourself are hinted at. I'm sure I'm probably saying this all wrong but thats how I do..... I'm sending this to my best friend, fighting cancer, I think it's bigger than all of us. Calls clouds to tumble their soft tears on her waiting face for parched fields of grass[await? maybe?]. Weaves[ing?] threads of weather’s whirl and stir['s] into night, then makes[ing] quilts of stars. Only then, spirit mountains chant pale moons into the palms of her nimble hands.[outreached?] Just my revisions....the message emits we are one with earth. This is my forte' Peace Dellena
This Poem was Critiqued By: Turner Lee Williams On Date: 2005-02-26 01:45:46
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.80769
Joanne– Starting with the title and including the subsequent tercets of personifications/allits, this one has almost an Indian folklore feel/tone to it; “Calls clouds to tumble their soft tears on her waiting face (excellent analogy for needed rain for thirsty earth?) for parched fields of grass.” Colorful descriptors/allits/personification depict front clearing sky and darkness houses a pattern of celestial twinkles; “Weaves threads of weather’s whirl and stir into night, then makes quilts of stars.” Great ending (and of course my favorite stanza) for this nonliteral language-citing the auspicious/projected position of largest reflective night sphere in the heavens; “Only then, spirit mountains chant pale moons into the palms of her nimble hands.” Sorry if I’ve missed your intentions for this outstanding effort, however, the poetics alone were well worth the read. TLW
This Poem was Critiqued By: Wanda S. Thibodeaux On Date: 2005-02-25 21:42:53
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Dear Joanne, This is a soft mystical piece. The title is just perfect. "She-Who-Dreams calls clouds to tumble their soft tears on her waiting face for parched fields of grass." So she loves rain and the way it gives life that new green glow. "Weaves threads of weather's whirl and stir into night, then makes quilts of stars." I love this verse especially. I would take out "then" in this line. For me it reads easier, more naturally. "makes quilts of stars" is a stunning visual. "Only then, spirit mountains (my favorite kind) chant pale moons into the palms of her nimble hands. These are gentle thoughts and only you could write such a sweet ode to "She-Who-Dreams" Makes me think of Dances With Wolves. Have a great weekend! My best always, Wanda
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