This Poem was Submitted By: Mell W. Morris On Date: 2005-04-09 17:56:42 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Larkspur and Lilacs

Often I take walks in the late evening under stars whose brittle songs scare small animals and rouse birds from their cozy, feather-lined nests. I pass the Methodist church on Elm Street which looks like every small church in the South. It comes complete with an aging, petulant, Hilda Taylor, who leads all music for church and for our high school. At the close of each school year, Hilda stages a musical production with an all-senior cast and rehearsals are endurance tests, measuring the degree of pain tolerance among the students. One afternoon, our English teacher responded to the shouts and shrieks emanating from the auditorium. Hilda had chosen "Porgy and Bess" and changed one of its major songs to "It Is Not Necessarily So". More rehearsals and reversals and finally, the main event. After the musical, the cast received a standing ovation and for Hilda, a bouquet of larkspur and lilacs. She bowed her head and I imagined the tip of the sword on her shoulder. The next year I attended a party given for Hilda's retirement and we sang "It Ain't Necessarily So" followed by "You Are Not Anything But A Hound Dog" and when I glanced at the ancient teacher, her lips twitched as her former students sang their souls. Tonight the same stars look down and their songs seem softer, benign, and one thing of which I'm certain... grammatically correct.
Copyright © April 2005 Mell W. Morris

This Poem was Critiqued By: Lora Silvey On Date: 2005-06-05 23:39:54
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
I felt a familiarity with your writing, comfortable. You gave me pause to look back and wonder for a moment of what destiny lay at the feet of all those music and choir teachers. Ashamedly I have seldom thought of mine with the exception to be thankful for the things they had taught although at the time I must admit I was not fond of clasics or scales... Thanks so much for this piece of memory that you have shared. I have enjoyed your writing, it is most pleasant to be able to read and understand what is written.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Elaine Marie Phalen On Date: 2005-05-07 20:10:26
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Mell, this is a splendid depiction of a familiar sort of character. I see a bit of myself in her, in fact. That "degree of pain tolerance among the students" is definitely part of most drama teachers' assessment scales! (I taught both Drama and English, which seems to be a frequent combination). The mix of church and classroom is another staple of Western education. So many individuals direct plays and/or choirs for both. In S1, I love the way you slowly work us into the setting. Those "brittle songs" of the stars will come back later; they convey the awe-inspiring vastness of the night. "Stars" can also have a subtle double meaning, since the play's cast will no doubt include a few stars, too. The changing of "Ain't" in the song title made me chuckle. Your Hilda Taylor sounds like an iron lady, all right. But we can tell how deeply she cares about her production and the students in it. For her, that bouquet must have been magical. "She bowed her head and I imagined the tip of the sword on her shoulder." Yes, indeed --- a knighthood would have been fitting. But community admiration is a close as it gets. By the time we reach the retirement banquet (also a familiar event for me) with the students' serenade, I've totally warmed to the woman. That she is perceived as "ancient" speaks of a time when teachers lacked the luxury of retirement much before seventy, I'd say. It may also reflect the speaker's once-youthful perceptive that anyone over forty or so must have been incredibly aged. The style here is unlike most of your work, which is why I notice it. There's a prosaic feel, and line breaks in unusual places, such as after "and" or "the". Enjambment happens often, too. You're going for a true narrative feel and I'd say you have certainly succeeded. Although this is definitely poetry, it is a story-telling kind of piece. The focus is on the tale and not on the diction. Its very directness lends it added charm. The speaker is reminiscing, like most of us do, as a regular human being rather than purely a poet. She is reaching into the heart and soul of her past to find Hilda awaiting resurrection. In the end, those softer stars herald the teacher's presence. She's up there now, making sure everything is properly arranged. "Grammatically correct" is a delightful way to conclude. Talk about "music of the spheres"!! A real treat ... I must make myself a copy of this one! It strikes home, for sure. Brenda
This Poem was Critiqued By: Claire H. Currier On Date: 2005-05-07 05:08:53
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.28814
Memories come flooding back as one travels through your memories my dear Poet......well done, a fitting tribute to the teacher , who indeed seemed to enjoy teaching as much as the students enjoyed singing......you begin with your walk which takes us with you through your town, finding the church you are going by, love the way you describe the Methodist church, the aging, the feeling of being there with you in the South..........Hilda Taylor must have been a wonder even to the students and I can hear the English teacher jumping up and down as the darling changed one of the major songs...........all in good humor I guess, and a standing ovation is great.........good structure, word flow, images along with emotions are carried through.....thanks for posting and sharing with us. Be safe my friend, God Bless, Claire A certain winner on my list............
This Poem was Critiqued By: Rick Barnes On Date: 2005-05-04 06:53:14
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 8.52941
Mell, Often I take walks in the late evening under stars whose brittle songs scare small animals and rouse birds from their cozy, feather-lined nests. Damn. What a beginning. Tonight the same stars look down and their songs seem softer, benign, and one thing of which I'm certain... grammatically correct. And just how did we get here? These are the same stars. And their songs are to the casual observer just as britt......no wait...no they are not. The casual observer would not have heard the song in the opening stanza in the first place. Only a poet, and as to the song itself, only the poet Mell Morris would have heard the brittle songs that scare small animals and rouse birds from their comfort. Only Mell would have observed the connection: little animals shreiking at the limits on their pain tolerance and the ruffled feathered response. It was not enough to take their shreiking voices and and soften them to the restrain of "It Ain't Necessarily So". No. The rhythm must adhere to the grammer. Things MUST be necessarily so. A critical part of finding your own rules and necessarily breaking the existing ones is knowing well the rules. I don't know that much about lilacs. I know what they mean to Mell, and perhaps that will have to do. But I can't help but feel that the following year the former students delivered lilacs in the form of, "It AIN'T Necessarily So" surrounded in the Larkspur of "You Are Not Anything But A Hound Dog". How can a poet not see the chages reflected in the heavens themselves? You are amazing Mell. I hope you know that. Rick
This Poem was Critiqued By: hello haveaniceday On Date: 2005-05-03 17:18:45
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 8.60000
OH yes Mell, this is very mindful of music teachers in my past. Miss Penny taught us in a one room schoolhouse type music room with her dog... darn what was its name, anyway it was blind and we would suppress huge giggles as it bumped gently into the walls as we alliterated and clapped the notes in some old english fashion. THanks so much for this and you have done a beautiful job of painting a memory. Ahhh, it was Dixie, not a common name in Australia at the time! Barbara
This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2005-04-30 18:21:45
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.53846
Mell-o-dy Like a diamond in the sky, brilliantly sharp,almost daylit, you pass the church and remember 'Hilda'. The music woman of choir days. Doing such a nice job she was given Larkspurs and lilacs for hilda.[nice l's] Seeing and remembering her lip quiver is very discerable for a teen. I saw nothing much but 'boys'. I liked the stars softening but actually think it be thee... I think you learned the value of her and her wonderfulness. I wonder by the last line, if she was also the English teacher? Thats why grammitically correct! You always write and make me think....and that ain't bad! Keep twinkling little star! much apreciation for good uplifting, caring, work! Dellena
This Poem was Critiqued By: Wanda S. Thibodeaux On Date: 2005-04-13 22:19:11
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Dear Mell, Well, of course, I love the title, so reminiscent of days gone, even the name Hilda works great for this piece. I like the fact that she had her own vision (or shall we say hearing) which is common practice for those talented people who lead. "You Are Not Anything But A Hound Dog?" Ain't is a neat word, but all true English teachers hate it. She must have been an English teacher at heart. No one can write poetry like you, Mell. This has the feel of you looking thru old yearbooks, finding those pictures that meant something special and finding old memories that are warm and comforting. I have some dear memories of my old teachers (church and school) also, I couldn't let them go if I wanted to. Changing a song title in Porgy and Bess is quite hilarious and I'm sure she is remembered with great favor because of it. I love those people who are different, the tomatoe in the watermelon patch scenario. Those people make the world a happier place. Great writing, wonderful story. Has to go on my list...and I ain't just whistling Dixie! Best always, Wanda
This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2005-04-13 20:23:57
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Mell: It’s been truly rough not being able to access TPL for several days. Of course, I couldn’t even give you my thoughts your newest poem! Reading this is like taking a walk with you, seeing things through your eyes. Your title, this poem, meeting Hilda – all provide a veritable feast for me – one of your most fervent fans. I am surprised and sit up straighter at your depiction of stars with “brittle songs” as this is an image I have not encountered before. It serves to settle me down on planet earth. I refrain from drifting above the clouds into the star-forming nebulae. It even seems a bit discomfiting that these stars make small animals fearful and stir the poor sleeping birds from their nests! This contrast makes the familiar sight of the little Methodist church on Elm Street seem very welcoming. I have spent only a few months in the South, but do have an engraved picture of the churches I saw there. They seemed more welcoming than their northern counterparts to me. I also think that you do something with time here – compressing it so that you take us with you back to your high school and into the presence of Hilda Taylor. Of course, I am trying to peer through time’s curtains, and see the teen-aged Mell-i-Fluent. I can’t see you, precisely, but can see myself and friends at the same age, and also another version of Hilda. Her name isn’t important. But her memory is vivid. She was also “aging, petulant” and suffered our presence with a certain stoicism. We suffered her precision, as well. But then, or NOW, the poem takes off into hilarity that has me in stitches. I roared with laughter at "It Is Not Necessarily So”— naturally enough the lyrics bring a host of memories. The ‘sh’ sounds of “shouts and shrieks” are signature MWM, as you are Supreme Queen of Sound in my book. ”After the musical, the cast received a standing ovation and for Hilda, a bouquet of larkspur and lilacs.” --- This is my favorite line. I recall that arkspur is the birth flower for July, along with water lily. This ties in for me with your ‘Lily’ poems. The allits – again, true Mellisms! L’s roll liquidly across my tongue – “Hilda/larkspur/lilacs” – like fine wine. I love this image especially –“I imagined the tip of the sword on her shoulder.” "The next year I attended a party given for Hilda's retirement and we sang "It Ain't Necessarily So" followed by "You Are Not Anything But A Hound Dog" and when I glanced at the ancient teacher, her lips twitched as her former students sang their souls." HOWLING! (Not nekkesarily a pun.) I immediately heard this oldie song sung by The King, with your lyrics. I can only imagine the hilarity of your choir. And the “aging, petulant” Miss Taylor’s lips as they 'twitched', similarly to a former teacher of mine who endured – ah, but that is a long and rather embarrassing story! Tonight the same stars look down and their songs seem softer, benign, and one thing of which I'm certain... grammatically correct. Now I am lost in another world as I imagine the stars singing respectfully for Miss Hilda Taylor. Mellifluous memories soften the brittleness of the stars’ songs – lovely!! And may the birds settle again in their cozy nests, and the small animals treat one another with gentleness … This poem somehow links in my mind with a recent scene from my back yard. A pair of Mandarin ducks, in company of assorted wood ducks, are walking or shall I say, parading, cheerily around the patio. The drake reaches over to flivver the hen’s feathers ever so slightly, perhaps a signal to the other ducks that “She’s mine!” Or reassurance to her of his fealty. He looks so Kingly, that I actually thought of EP. And he danced as he walked circles around her. I feel that that is how this poem dances – joyously, perhaps a bit protectively. It honors the one who undoubtedly received the larkspurs and lilacs with a solemn expression and inward softening. In short, I love this poem and Hilda Taylor. Simply splendiferous!! Brava!! Kudos … unless I am mistaken, you have another winner here! Best always, LL Em.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Thomas Edward Wright On Date: 2005-04-11 09:14:50
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
You ain't nothin' but a poet. Thanks for the memories. I like Hilda. Let's keep her. t.
This Poem was Critiqued By: marilyn terwilleger On Date: 2005-04-10 17:59:58
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.25000
Hi Mell, I have begun to critique off the 'view all poetry' list in order to catch my favorite poets and in doing so found this gem of yours! I had a couple teachers such as you describe and they do have a way of sneaking back into mind now and then...simply because I don't think there are teachers like them any more..they were so prim and proper and always grammatically correct! Often I take walks in the late evening under stars whose brittle songs scare small animals and rouse (love this word) birds from their cozy, feather-lined nests. As usual you grab the reader with your first one or two lines...your words compel me to continue reading for fear I will lose some of them...this first stanza is no exception because I couldn't wait to see where you would take me. In stanza 2 you describe the little church complete with an aging, petulant(wonderful) Hilda Taylor, who leads all music for church and for our high school. then in stanza 3 you tell us about Hilda and how she stages the musical productions with the all-senior cast...rehearsals are endurance tests...oh..do I ever relate to this line...I remember those rehearsals.. they would leave you prespiring (or in the girls case..glowing) and out of breath measuring the degree of pain tolerance among the students. Mell..this is splendid...my mind is racing with memories! Stanza 4 made me laugh out loud...she changed "It aint necessarily so" to "is not necessarily so" what a riot! I wish I had been there...you and I would have been rolling on the floor and most likely would have been expelled...or at the very least sent to the principal's office. in stanza 5 I loved that you received a standing ovation and that Hilda got a bouquet of larkspur and lilacs. I can see her bow her head looking regal and ever so proper. but wait you are not through yet...in stanza 6 you give us the creme d'la creme (I know I wrote that wrong but you know what I mean) you dared to go to Hilda's retirment and sing "it ain't necessarily so" followed by "You are not anything but a hound dog" and Hilda's lips twitched as her former students sang their souls. So typical that Hilda could only manage a lip twitch when she was probably shouting inside her soul. I love the ending of this tale which is full of humor and memories Tonight the same stars look down and their songs seem softer, benign, and one thing of which I'm certain... grammarically correct. But do the students that see those same stars have the fun you and your class had? I doubt it. Wonderful...Mell...thank you ever so much for the trip down memory lane that you have given me today. I hope you are feeling better...when I read your work I can't believe you were ever feeling bad because you put your heart and soul in your words and give us a grand poem time after time. I am still praying for you and I have faith He will hear me. Love....mt
This Poem was Critiqued By: Nancy Ann Hemsworth On Date: 2005-04-10 09:55:18
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 8.00000
Oh Mel I just love this little short story done so well in this poetic form. I just have to point out this line that I feel is so well crafted " stars whose brittle songs scare small animals" what a beautiful and excellent use of alliteration!! and oh so easily I find I can walk on your words down that street, see that little church "complete with an aging, petulant, Hilda". This is such an appealing human story of everyday life that one has to smile in familiarity, and keep on reading. I work in the schools here in New Brunswick and can relate so well to all of this, the frustration of students, the caos etc of putting something like a musical together, and what energy it creates. This is one of my favorite parts, so vivid in image and I love the comparison of the bouquet to the appointing to knight hood..for these ladies are the heroes truly for their undying dedication and bravery! (smile) "for Hilda, a bouquet of larkspur and lilacs. She bowed her head and I imagined the tip of the sword on her shoulder" I can also imagine the feeling going through her head at this time of pride of accomplishment and recognization for her hard work, and also this passage tells more of the emotional here at her retirement party. So much emotion, sadness yet just a little bit of the devil in the choice of song dedication..perfect balance . "The next year I attended a party given for Hilda's retirement and we sang "It Ain't Necessarily So" followed by "You Are Not Anything But A Hound Dog" and when I glanced at the ancient teacher, her lips twitched as her former students sang their souls" It is such a semi-climax and the ending of a era, and then you really tug at the heartstrings of this reader when you end this excellent piece with the natural process of life "death", but you do it so beautifully and merge it so well with the first of your piece using the night sky stars again as jewelry and the voice of her life.." Tonight the same stars look down and their songs seem softer, benign, and one thing of which I'm certain... grammatically correct." I just love your last line that really punches who she really was the "Hilda", A TEACHER in all respects. Thanks so much Mel for submitting this , it touched me deeply and made my soul smile and my heart sing a refrain of "It Ain't Necessarily So" (0:
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