Poetry Contests Online at The Poetic Link

This Poem was Submitted By: Gene Dixon On Date: 2005-04-21 13:07:10 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

To Listen to Music While Reading this Poem, just Click Here!

Click Here To add this poem to your "Voting Possibilities" list!

Reflections in an Unpolished Stone

There was no depth, only shadows, thin and gray. Ethereal, like a breath of morning mist. You hardly knew she was there. Somewhere, in a vague memory, you might see traces of a face, the pale blue of a shaded eye, a splash of light on dark hair. One would think you would recall, ever so clearly, a moment of such significance. Most likely you'll remember fading images and unpolished stones.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Elaine Marie Phalen On Date: 2005-05-07 08:16:04
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Gene, what a subtle and haunting poem. It's imbued with your usual lyricism, but written in free verse, which isn't something I normally read from you. The style is near-minimalist, too. There is no excess here! I always find such writing to be very refreshing. Such a poem is never in danger of collapsing under its own weight. The identity of "she" is ambiguously intriguing. Is she a remembered lover? A Gaia figure? A goddess or angelic being? A briefly-met companion on the way? There was no depth, only shadows, thin and gray. Ethereal, like a breath of morning mist. This is lovely, and its imagery suggests something akin to the surface of water. Everything shifts, changes, lacks permanence. One cannot be sure of his/her own vision. It's deceptive, like the mist you mention. You hardly knew she was there. This mysterious "she" fits into the unclear landscape like a figure moving through a dream. But "hardly knew" doesn't mean the same thing as "never knew". This presence IS acknowledged, albeit at a subliminal, soul level. Somewhere, in a vague memory, you might see traces of a face, the pale blue of a shaded eye, a splash of light on dark hair. Here, the persona acquires more substance. We see her coloring - brunette with blue eyes. But these are also colors of the natural world - the blue of sky and lake, the darkness of moss and shadows. "Splash of light" nicely continues the water imagery. This feminine influence becomes a sort of undine, dwelling in and around the rivers and seas of the world. If she is indeed a mortal woman, she flows through the mind like droplets in a fountain, without hope of being held. One would think you would recall, ever so clearly, a moment of such significance. Ah, but what event? Spiritual enlightenment? First love? Birth itself? The meeting of one's soul-mate? Or just a sudden realization of some vast truth? Perhaps even the initial encounter with one's personal Muse, who then enters everything, forever afterward? Most likely you'll remember fading images and unpolished stones. This is like the tatters of a dream. We know we've experienced something unique but can't remember exactly what or even why. "Unpolished" implies something not finished or formed completely. We begin so many things that we can't take with us to the end. Life's filled with what-ifs, and phantom faces wavering in and out of awareness. There are so many vivid strangers, who could have changed it all, had circumstances been otherwise. We're doomed to wonder, always - like the stones themselves - whether or not we should have done things differently. Fine work! It's so good to see you posting again. Brenda

This Poem was Critiqued By: Audrey R Donegan On Date: 2005-04-30 23:09:47
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 8.22727
Very interesting piece. I especially like 'the pale blue of a shaded eye' - nice imagery. The last stanza I think, brings the whole piece together. Nice work, thanks for posting Audrey

This Poem was Critiqued By: Claire H. Currier On Date: 2005-04-26 06:48:31
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.25806
Deeply touching Poet.......how I long to find images held within the lining of my heart of mom and dad when I was younger......when they were up, bright, full of life, yet here I am, with memories of the days when they were older, sick and in need of my help, the tables turned perhaps as life does that to us all...... Mom's blue eyes were always shinning ever so bright with a twinkle......at the end perhaps they did not shine as bright but when I asked her to open one last time it was with her dying breath that she did, half way, and once more I saw that twinkle and it said......I am fine.....you will be too...... mom was 92 when she was taken from my home, here in Tully, to spend eternity in God's Heavenly Garden. Mama was my breath of fresh air and my morning mist as we say here in the woods of Tully.......she was real, honest, very human, unfortunately for her 92 years she did not say 'I Love You' as many parents do but I shall always remember her 'Me Too's' as her statement of love........my youngest daughter made me a garden stone with those two words on it......ME TOO........I shall treasure it along with my memories of mom forever. Thanks for posting, I hope I did not crucify this lovely poem Poet.........that is the message it presented to me in its structure, word flow and in allowing me to take off in my own direction with what I felt, saw, and still feel......God Bless, Claire

This Poem was Critiqued By: Mell W. Morris On Date: 2005-04-24 16:31:56
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.60000
Gene: I guess your reputation is becoming known to the newbies, too. Your poem never came on my list and I'm critiquing from ALL POETRY. But how could I, HRM's Mellodious, pass a poem as this one without at least that royal back of the hand wave that Queen Elizabeth uses? But it is always like going home to see a poem you've submitted. In fact, there's a celtic air in your piece in my view. The simile of "like a breath of morning mist" make me imagine Ireland and shadows thin and grey are almost the exact words Muldoon uses to describe the fog/rain in his homeland. I cannot leave the celtic alone but rocks (rupiculous) and herein your unpolished stones cry Heaney. He writes more about the earth, the water, and STONES than any other writer. This is brilliant like Reflections/Golden Eye. No depth...how unusual for you.... but redeem yourself with ethereal. However, there's still that lack of dimension so I think of fog, vapor, the legend about the young girl who disappears in one of Ireland's bogs. Somewhere in your brain you see the traces of a face, pale blue of shaded eye, splash (great) of light in her dark hair. You hardly knew she was there. One would expect recollection. Easily accessed, a moment of "such significance." And you tender for us your ending: Most likely you'll remember fading images and unpolished stones. There is an unspoken sadness here, Gene...purely something I feel. We have all posted some of our best work this month and with the loss of Creeley, the quality here has helped plus two NEW poems by Heaney in the last few weeks in The New Yorker. And so it goes. Gene, this is merely brilliant...nothing left to say except I hope you are not still suffering. (Mary seems dear as she kept us posted.) On the list or enlisted... MellO

This Poem was Critiqued By: Mark Steven Scheffer On Date: 2005-04-23 22:37:01
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
BFB, What . . . no miracle of the sun? I would feel cheated. Go back and demand something you won't forget. The gentle Dixon touch is all over this. Did you say UNpolished? Liar. You must be, if not dunking, touching the rim by now. FP PS - Between you and Ho . . . My real name begins with M, I believe.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Rachel F. Spinoza On Date: 2005-04-22 16:01:10
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Reflections in an Unpolished Stone Great title for this image rich and evocative piece Gene. There was no depth, only shadows, thin and gray. Ethereal,[one of my favorite words] like a breath of morning mist. The sustained metaphor is marvelous - yes, one has to look for the light in a stone that is unpolished - it is something that is all potential. You hardly knew she was there. Somewhere, in a vague memory, you might see traces of a face, the pale blue of a shaded eye, a splash of light on dark hair. great - understated and brilliant the idea of the unpolished gem is carried out in the splash of light on dark hair and the vagueness of memory One would think you would recall, ever so clearly, a moment of such significance. ah, but we don't Most likely you'll remember fading images and unpolished stones. Yes - i think that is pretty much how memory works - but then there is a soft serenity there too. Lots to think about. Wonderful piece

This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2005-04-21 16:55:16
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.70833
Gene: The nebulous sense of a presence – the lack of a clear image makes this poem all the more haunting. It is elegiac in tone, yet not specific – allowing readers to fill in details while the speaker reflects upon a woman remembered. One of your poetic gifts has always been the evocation of emotion – and this no exception. What it evokes for me is a sense of longing for what is missing. I think of the fading memory I have of my mother. It is not three-dimensional except in dream. your words “no depth” describe a memory and perhaps as well, a relationship which was not as deep or rich as one longs to have. Images of “pale blue shaded eye” and “splash of light” are soft as smoke and as difficult to hold. There’s a hint of Irish in it, at least for me, in “like a breath of morning mist.” On a personal aside, my beloved fourth grade teacher’s compliment comes back to me with this line, “You look like the breath of spring this morning, Joanne.” She was from Dublin. I took out her jeweled words on many childhood rain-filled, gray days to remember her kindness. This poem seems to invoke a gentle reminder that we need to photograph those we cherish with our minds as intensely, as vividly as we can while they are near, for when they have gone, what remains will be “ethereal.” “Somewhere, in a vague memory, you might see traces of a face, the pale blue of a shaded eye, a splash of light on dark hair.” The long ‘a’ in “vague/traces/face/pale/shaded” suggests an intense emotion of painful longing, which is belied by the pastel-shaded colors. “One would think you would recall, ever so clearly, a moment of such significance.” One would think, indeed. Inwardly (where else is there?) I scramble for images of those I have loved who are no longer present. Whether in the body, or perhaps only in a distant location. The images are torturously vague. Most likely you'll remember fading images and unpolished stones. The “unpolished stone” for may symbolizes someone natural, who lives and speaks simply and directly. A rare, precious gem reflected within the mirror of your exquisite poem. I love the poem, Gene, though it affords me much longing which will remain unfulfilled on this side of the grave. What a sheer pleasure it is to comment on a poem of yours once more. All my best, Joanne

This Poem was Critiqued By: Helen C DOWNEY On Date: 2005-04-21 15:34:36
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 8.40909
Gene, I feel as if I am at the cemetary in front of a tomb stone of a loved one, because you words reflect the way I feel when visiting my sister. I feel her prescence but can not touch her. As you have said in the first stanza..."only shadows, thin and gray." and you go on to say "You hardly knew she was there"....Ah! But the memories flood in and "you might see a trace of her face, the pale blue of a shaded eye, a splash of light on dark hair". Such descriptive words of an angelic face...or even an apparition. I especialy like the way you have worded the last stanza: "Mostlikely you'll remember fading images and unpolished stones." To me this represents the tomb stone, which most are of unpolished stone. You have displayed such great imagery that it takes the reader out of the written words and and into another demension. An ageless piece of work gene! ~Helen

Poetry Contests Online at The Poetic Link

Click HERE to return to ThePoeticLink.com Database Page!