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This Poem was Submitted By: hello haveaniceday On Date: 2005-05-22 09:26:21 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Visions 6453

too long her fingers ached his touch too short never the dreamer 'til she waked her span of love so wide she saw below a constellation as she cried no one had seen her god him blind now, queer rice paper ashtrays stale and odd her toast and butter faith a daily taste persistent hunger never waked that signal lantern flash cove of her heart quick shuttered senses fear perhaps storm clouds laid on grasses blurred reflections nature teaches love life passes

This Poem was Critiqued By: Claire H. Currier On Date: 2005-06-05 05:07:56
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.75000
Poet I have read and re read this one and find it quite interesting, easy to read, filled with images that you have projected along with the emotions involved..........the thought of not dreaming till waking happens all the time for some.......interesting indeed...... too long her fingers ached his touch too short never the dreamer 'til she waked I thought the opening stanza was done quite well and the rhyme is right on.... Thank you for posting and sharing with us.......Good fortune with the contest....God Bless, Claire

This Poem was Critiqued By: Latorial D. Faison On Date: 2005-06-04 11:33:50
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.87879
Barbara, this is a very interesting poem. After reading it several time, I see where the VISIONS fit into the reality of this poem. I'm guessing that the 6453 is something a little more specific that only you, the writer, would know or others who just happen to be close to you. Then again, I'm not that well read, so I wouldn't know if it was something in the latest news. First, let me say that this piece read well and sounded more than poetic with the coming of each hline. It's a joy to read, and is true poetry. Secondly, I think the format is a huge asset to the success of the poem. You keep it brief and neat tthroughout. I love the use of the short statements and few words to make your point and carry the story along. It's done very well. Although I found myself mesmerized with the words of each stanza, I absolutely adore the first one: too long her fingers ached his touch too short never the dreamer 'til she waked The picture that you paint with the words long and short are phenomenal, a symbol that sometimes life is just not enough or love isn't or someone isn't. Fingers and touch are the essence of the most sensual sense that we have as humans, but as lovers, touch is sometimes the only sense. "Never the dreamer/'til she waked" . . . this one carries an irony that makes readers stop and think about the profundity of what's been said. You go on to create poetic brilliance in every line giving me a poem more differentt than anything else I've read this month. Thanks for sharing these "visions" with us and the beauty of your creativity. This is a fine poem. Latorial www.latorialfaison.com

This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2005-05-29 11:31:07
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Barbara: You captivate me as a reader with another of your fine poems. This ‘feels’ familiar to me. There is a certain universality to romantic relationships, of suffering and joy. This poem’s very specific ones make it all the more authentic and poignantly sharp. Two lovers, with completely different rhythms. So close and yet so far away. “his touch too short” really carries the entire first stanza, IMO. But then, “never the dreamer/’til she waked” also aches with the unfulfilled potential of union for these two, so palpably not present in each other’s worlds. her span of love so wide she saw below a constellation as she cried This stanza seems to me to contain the essence of what cannot be said otherwise. The expansive love of the woman, taking her into the uttermost reaches of the galaxy, and yet, this love cannot bring her closer to true union with her beloved. And as an aside, does he comprehend? My sense is that he does not. You show much more in the progression of this piece, of these two lovers who seemed destined not to fulfill one another. no one had seen her god him blind now, queer rice paper ashtrays stale and odd I’m not overlooking the fine poetic-crafting. The enjambment in L-2 is remarkable. The images and textures are remarkably evocative. There seems an insubstantial quality to him, as if he is more than frail, but detached. You capture that in “rice paper ashtrays” and especially “state and odd.” How sorrowful this feels. He is her god, but inaccessible and not present. I wonder if he is blind in fact or if this is metaphor. No matter, as it works to deepen the tone of this poem. her toast and butter faith a daily taste persistent hunger never waked The sense of things suspended, in surreal fashion, is so pervasive. The speaker’s hunger does not seem excessive, with her “toast and butter faith” it would seem that she asks for little but his true presence, “daily taste.” the lack of fulfillment leaves a taste in her mouth like bitter ashes. What is the key to her release from this sense of suspension, of waiting for what will never happen? that signal lantern flash cove of her heart quick shuttered senses fear perhaps A sense of alarm builds to the climax of the poem. Subjectively I felt that death will part these two without the complete consummation. And yet the love remains. The sense of fear, of sensory impressions “shuttered” seem to fulfill a dual purpose. Maybe I misread, but feel that there are two major themes – love unrequited, and the possibility of death’s arrival without these two ever truly, deeply meeting one another. The final possibilities, extinguishment of hope. The candle blown. storm clouds laid on grasses blurred reflections nature teaches love life passes The enduring qualities of nature seem to form a backdrop of reluctant acceptance, or at least recognition, that “life passes” and so, perhaps, does sorrow. I have a sense of pre-grieving from this work, particularly the final two stanzas. This could be a projection on my part. I could not agree more that “nature teaches love” as it seems to be the crux of everything. Endurance, the “storm clouds laid on grasses” which will nourish them, rather than destroy them. Great tenderness expressed. The poet is alone with her “blurred reflections” which ties back with “him blind now.” Magnificent poem, Barbara. As I've observed to another poet, is seems ironic that our best work seems to come from our longing or suffering. But there it is. You honor us with this piece, and I hope I have not strayed too far from your intent for it. Brava! In everything, peace Joanne

This Poem was Critiqued By: Thomas H. Smihula On Date: 2005-05-27 07:18:22
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Barbara, The first stanza sets the tone for this poem and depth. I sense the reach, I see the arms wipe open unconditionally. My favorite stanza 'her toast and butter faith' persistant hunger this is excellent. The ending brings full circle the need of love within one life. Well done outstanding poem. Thanks, Thomas.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2005-05-22 16:53:49
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.90909
Hi Barbara, Another couch session! Hopefully not! You have a wonderful enviable way with words. too long her fingers ached his touch too short never the dreamer til she waked [love the fingers long and short/visually touching] her span of love so wide[lovely and blessed to love so wide] she saw below a constellation[from on high! visually good] as she cried [joy] no one had seen her god him blind now, queer rice paper ashtrays stale and odd[don't know about this meaning] her toast and butter faith[common but a necessity] a daily taste persistent hunger never waked [? never realized, never fulfilled, culminated?] that signal lantern flash cove of her heart quick shuttered senses fear perhaps[afraid to fully trust] storm clouds laid on grasses blurred reflections nature teaches love life passes [we never get all the love we need. bits here bits there, the most unconditional love we can get in our lives is the love of our God within ourselves][sounds simple but is not] You sound so full of love searching for someone to love fully. I sense the hopelessness of it all...... Good job, good emotion, good verbage, enjoyed the reading.. Dellena

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