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This Poem was Submitted By: marilyn terwilleger On Date: 2005-04-04 15:04:24 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Adda

A stubborn gale is bending trees, rippling Puddles and twisting my hair as I brace Against the untamed force. It began As a mellow zephyr but achieved strength With the soaring sun. My body shivers At insolent scowling howls, forests quiver In their mourning dress, weary un-contented Birds clutch their nests and watch leaves Somersault in blatant air that brooms Unsuspecting brambles. Winds speak in Horse inarticulate voices that ravish my mind. Bruised grasses lie flat neath the unearthly Thrust and a swarthy dust storm pommels The plains. Buffeted to and fro I teeter on The point of a sword, my stance tense, nerves Tattered…and still Adda whips the air.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Troy D Skroch On Date: 2005-05-01 21:17:24
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.50000
Marilyn, Please go inside before I come and get you. LOL! First of all this poem picks up movement and intensity through it's progression. I see the wind starting in the morning. The morning puddles rippling, the sun rising. And it keeps building and building. Look at the descriptive words you use here. stubborn gale bending trees rippling Puddles twisting hair untamed force soaring sun scowling howls body shivers clutch their nests leaves Somersault The list goes on but, why restate it all. This poem is written to match the intensity of the storm. Great description! With all of your descriptors you create a rhythm. This is no accident. This is the violence of nature on paper. You use alliteration in "soaring sun", and "shivers". I like the image that even in the soaring sun you still shiver. Irony. You also use assonance in "scowling howls" as well as emphasis on sound of "b" in "blatant", "brooms", "brambles" and "bruised". Hey, all I'm trying to say is that you're working to maximize the impact of these lines in a poetic fashion, which, by the way, is excellent writing. =] "Horse inarticulate voices that ravish my mind." This is cool stuff right here. At first I thought you threw this in to trip up a mook like me, but knowing that you are not the accidental writer, I came to the conclusion that "horse voices" would be "inarticulate" and I keep hearing the sounds of panicked horses in a wind storm and it is troubling and makes sense that it "ravishes the mind". What a sound that makes your heart pump fast and want to help but can't. Brr. And "horse" works so well considering that this is a plains type of storm. Bravo! Wow. In the last stanza the sword metaphor is used brilliantly in how you support it with words like "thrust", "swarthy dust storm" (I imagine the dust storm like a pirate) "pommels" and stance "stance". Yes this dust storm is like a marauding pirate that you take a stance against, fight against, and still it "whips" on. Whipping the trees, birds, leaves, horses, dust and even the air itself. Now that is a storm! Marilyn I've never been in a storm like this and would have never imagined how powerful it was until you gave me this vivid description tonight. You must be a strong person to live in Wyoming, at least in Wisconsin we have trees to hide behind. LOL! Actually, when I lived on my parents farm I would run to the top of a hill behind the house and meet the oncoming thunder storm as it came across the valley. There is something so wild about that. I imagined the storm as an oncoming army! A cavalry charge. You could see it coming and hear the thunder. The thunderheads full of lightening. Then the wind would start and soon you would be pelted by the rain. It was remarkable. Fortunately I was too dumb to care if I got struck by lightening or not. LOL Another example of your fine writing. Take care, Troy

This Poem was Critiqued By: Rachel F. Spinoza On Date: 2005-04-27 13:26:42
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
What a lovely poem, Marilyn. It is carefully constructed and the emotions are immediate. Your use of language is exquisite in the generous use of assonance and the lilting rhythm that is maintained throughout this piece. It paints a vibrant winter picture – one that I remember well from my youth. A stubborn gale is bending trees, rippling Puddles and twisting my hair as I brace Against the untamed force. It began As a mellow zephyr but achieved strength I like the personification of the wind – a personal pronoun Might make it even more powerful – she is burning trees – etc Or Adda is…. Etc – but perhaps not With the soaring sun. My body shivers At insolent scowling howls, [I like those w’s] forests quiver In their mourning dress, weary un-contented Birds clutch their nests and watch leaves [great detail!] you have mastered the difficult device of enjambment with these paragraph leaps – wonderful Somersault in blatant air that brooms Unsuspecting brambles. Winds speak in Horse inarticulate voices [great] that ravish my mind. Bruised grasses lie flat [ I don’t think “beneath” would hurt the rhythm] the unearthly Thrust[s] and a swarthy dust storm [pummels] The plains. Buffeted to and fro I teeter on The point of a sword, [ nice image making] my stance tense, nerves Tattered…and still Adda whips the air. Thank you for this delicious piece. Good to see your work Best Rachel

This Poem was Critiqued By: Claire H. Currier On Date: 2005-04-21 01:07:21
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.08333
Adda.....must be a very special title for a very special kind of storm poet.....one that you have created with the flare of your pen bringing the reader there with you.....when I think of a stubborn gale here in New England I best be near the water edge as it usually begins there and travels on.........bringing more then ripples to the water's edge.......well structured, word flow allows for intense images that are created with each twist and turn.........bending trees, gale winds, rippling puddles and twisting hair.......its a wonder anything is able to stand.....love those birds and it is sad to think they are so troubled with this storm having to hold onto their nest for fear they too will be taken away with the twisting winds....Winds speak in Horse inarticulate voices that ravish my mind. Well done poet from beginning to end.......exhaustion set in with the on coming of this storm......I do not believe I have ever been in one nor would I care to.....though you have brought me within its reaches....thank you for posting, if you lived through this kind of storm God Bless you......Claire

This Poem was Critiqued By: Helen C DOWNEY On Date: 2005-04-15 09:28:40
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 8.85714
Marilyn, This piece realy swept me off my feet! There is much action going on here and your use of imagery was great! I could visualize the trees bending and your hair twisting, flying all over your face as you try to brace your self.Whew! I am tired just thinking about the struggle you are going through.I feel the chilling wind upon my body and hear the spooky howls from the wind. I see that the trees are wet, trying to shake off the rain while the poor birds clutch to their nests. I especially like how you describe the force of the wind as brambles are rolling all around and the grasses lie flat. Gee I surely hope that you didn't have to actually walk in this? But all in all this was a strong poem which stands sturdy! No wind could knock this poem down. Great write Marilyn, I enjoyed it! Peace~Helen

This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2005-04-10 19:38:03
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Marilyn, Neat poem, hurricane Adda. I don't remember the name but there has been so many. Really nice descriptions. I see you standing watching.....frightened, tense. I like your sentences leading into the next stanza, moving the reader on... rippling puddles scowling howls, forests quiver in their mourning dress, Birds clutch their nests and watch leaves somersault blatant [I m don't like this word/sounds off'] Bruised grasses [is goooooood] horse/hoarse I think you did a great job sharing your hurricane or typhoon. I'd like to be one and shake some trees! Very enjoyable/good wordage. Dellena

This Poem was Critiqued By: arnie s WACHMAN On Date: 2005-04-09 15:39:11
Critiquer Rating During Critique: Unknown
A very descriptive piece about a ?hurricane? I don't know what ADDA is but it's pronounced the same backwards! I liked the "rippling puddles;mellow zephyr;brooms unsuspecting brambles". I just love the way you put these adjectives to play. "pommels" s/b "pummels" Thanks for this.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2005-04-08 15:39:04
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Marilyn: I love poems that include natural elements, especially weather. I am unfamiliar with the term 'Adda' except as a river in northern Italy. This wind sounds merciless. You've done a lot with sound, imagery and texture here. This has a strong emotional pull that I often feel in your poems. It is a very mind linguistically rich poem. I found myself most engaged and fascinated with your use of language, as you expertly layer sound upon sound. For example, sonics in L1-3 include plosive that are doubled in mid-word, as are "stubborn/rippling/puddles" and beginning "bending/puddles/brace/began" for starters! Wow! The effect is like effortful resistance to the force of wind. Something that twists our hair has to be 'in' our hair, and this elicits something applying force to the speaker, pushing against her unrelentingly. With the soaring sun. My body shivers --majestic sibilance here and in L2 At insolent scowling howls, forests quiver --brrrr! "howling scowls" In their "mourning dress", weary un-contented --powerful this double-meaning Birds clutch their nests and watch leaves --Poe-like sense of foreboding Somersault in blatant air that brooms Unsuspecting brambles. Winds speak in [Hoarse] inarticulate voices that ravish my mind. Bruised grasses lie flat ['neath] [] unearthly As a suggestion to increase the power of this piece, I'd leave out "the" if you do revise. I don't think the poem needs it, but I love the combined, juxtaposed sounds of "'neath unearthly" above. A thought only. Thrust [and] a swarthy dust storm pommels --Suggest leaving out "and" The plains. Buffeted to and fro I teeter on The point of a sword, my stance tense, nerves Tattered…and still Adda whips the air. What incredible assonance/consonance! This is fabulous one to read aloud. Part of me longs to know why the speaker teeters "on the point of a sword" -- what tatters her nerves (besides the wind). I want to hear more about your "tattered nerves" and what tensions are lurking there. Whose are the "hoarse voices" which ravish the speaker's mind? Maybe a poem does not need to answer these questions, but I sense that the "inarticulate voices" in your poem want to say more. I would be thrilled to see another stanza on this work if the spirit moves you. Sometimes for me a poem develops more stanzas over a period of time. It 'speaks' so to speak. This is an amazing poem that, at least to this reader, that wants to say more. And am I ever ready to listen! :) Best wishes always, Joanne

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