This Poem was Submitted By: Mell W. Morris On Date: 2005-06-16 17:36:07 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Wind At My Back

Comes a wind with no thought to intrude, no wish to oppugn.... at ease. A soft wind soothing my skin, perhaps formed before memory, likely a new vocabulary we may never know. This wind resembles a zephyr,  a breeze that pauses and inhales then rises to a wail like the one which blew us from the prairies to the seas. In silence, I've endured a dividing wind, especially at a sunset hour when it's said that winds lessen or die. At setting sun, with susperious winds, there is a half hour which is the  color of sadness, regret, and the hue- filled rhymes. Yet nothing can keep out the darkness, away from illuminations that nurture a host of life forms. And I? I live in the palm of His hand.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        

Copyright © June 2005 Mell W. Morris


This Poem was Critiqued By: Paul H. Roefs On Date: 2005-06-25 01:05:37
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.50000
HiMel, This poem is original and profound. The imagery is wonderful and balanced thoughout. I have gained a better insight about the wind from your poem. The read is very smooth except for a few lines. You are a very perseptive poet and I like your style. Great poem. Best regardsPaul; aka, "Donpablo"


This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2005-06-23 15:48:47
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Hi Sugarplum, This feels like introspection. Time to evaluate what was, and what is, and what wasn't. The darkness doesn't necessarily not stimulate growing but does a different type of nuturing.... The soul/the spirit/the mind/the heart! When plants go within [dark], they are gathering the strength and power to go without! As maybe you? I love the sunset colors of hope for a new day..... I like the winds vocabulary. The wind speaks, do we listen? Your poem title like may the wind be at your back....... and yes God holds you in the palm of his hands. yes he does..... Hold on, you will be all right. I send love to you, dellena
This Poem was Critiqued By: Lora Silvey On Date: 2005-06-22 10:02:32
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.47500
Mell, Wonderful journey even with the highs, lows, and the not knowing...that little something you just can't put your finger on. Your words danced on my tongue and wondered around in my mind, a gentle cohesiveness much to my liking, very deep and in the end the most important objective, where you reside, "in his hand". Thank you so much for this offering and journey. It is structured well, each line flows into the next keeping the reader venturing forward. Lora
This Poem was Critiqued By: Troy D Skroch On Date: 2005-06-21 21:52:48
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Hi Mell, It’s me again. LOL! It sure is drafty in here. I’m just getting around to doing some critiques this month. And I got to tell ya, when I first read the title to this one I had a funny thought involving the adventures of using the great out doors for a bathroom. Ok, ok, bad joke, but I’m always on the verge of saying something that only I can laugh at most days anyway. So hey let’s get started. Wait, got to have a pull from the bottle first. Ahh, the wife threw out all of my bourbon, so I’m drinking mouthwash this evening. It’s not that bad, but you have to drink so much! Your title, when I feel it, brings me to imagine the wind pushing me or me letting the wind break around me. I like the feeling. It leads me to believe that this will be a linear progression. And I feel it fits your poem very well. In fact, when I’m good and drunk, I’m going to go outside, as there is a slight breeze and a full moon (I also just cut the lawn), and let the atmosphere and your poem work on me. Of course, I’ll be drunk and won’t remember a thing, but it’s the moment that counts. Maybe I’ll take a stick and scratch my feelings in the sand somewhere large enough so that in the morning, when I’m suffering from a Scope hangover, I’ll still be able to get some sort of impression before I swerve my way to work. Anyway, where was I, oh yes, the poem. Hmmm. Love your opening line. Comes a wind with no thought to intrude, no wish to oppugn.... at ease. You don’t use the word, “the” or “it” or “when” or “what” or any of those words that give people time to think. What’s cool is that you do this intentionally, at least to my mind, because there will be “no thought to intrude”. So you open strong and fast “comes a wind”, I just love that. This is not going to be an intellectual foray, rather one of feeling, do with it what you want. “No thought to intrude”, feel it. “No wish”, it just is. And then you give me the ellipses to let me be “at ease” visually as I read. A soft wind soothing my skin, perhaps formed before memory, likely a new vocabulary we may Oh my, lost my train of thought, ok, got it back. Wow, look at the next lines. Here is something that I will remember for a long time. I better write it down, right. The analogy of the wind to a vocabulary is astounding to this reader. So cool!! That is just genius that you put before me here. Love it. Going to my “Line Hall Of Fame”! It is as if the wind speaks. I was looking at the trees the other day. Actually, I had passed out in my yard and was just trying to sit up when I saw the leaves looking as though they were sparkling. The wind was blowing, lightly, flipping the leaves so you saw the top of the leaf and then the bottom. Since, the bottom of most leaves is lighter, it looked as though they were sparkling. It’s not hard to imagine that they were having a conversation with the breeze that led them to be giggling. Of course, they might have been laughing out right at me and I just didn’t know it. Oh well, next time I’ll drink light beer. never know. This wind resembles a zephyr, a breeze that pauses and inhales then rises to a wail like the one which blew us from the prairies to the seas. Ah yes, the wind can soothe as well as whip and wail. You show this remarkably clear. I think it’s especially neat how you personify the wind by letting it “inhale” and “wail”. It’s almost as if it is breathing with us and we can be a part of it, but must be keen to it’s mannerisms as it is the “wind” after all. I dig the historical connotation of “like the one which blew us from the prairies to the seas”. A well traveled line. Eternal in it’s vision. In silence, I've endured a dividing wind, especially at a sunset hour when it's said that winds lessen or die. At setting sun, with susperious winds, there is a half hour which is the color of sadness, regret, and the hue- filled rhymes. A time of longing; a time when all things are possible to the mind; a time of sadness and perhaps regret through reflection, but a quiet time, yes a quiet time, before the darkness. Damn it I’m running out of mouthwash! Yet nothing can keep out the darkness, away from illuminations that nurture a host of life forms. And I? I live in the palm of His hand. To my thinking that is a great place to be. The best I can hope for is the back pocket. Seriously, I see both the wind as a metaphor for life in this poem, as well as, the passage of time directing life with all of it’s variations. To live in the palm of His hand is out of the wind and in a place where the wind does not blow, or, perhaps, a different wind blows, whatever the case, you will not tell me and I will be left to reflect on another MellO Poetic piece of writing. Off to raid the medicine cabinet, The Baby Poet, T
This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2005-06-20 20:16:23
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Mell-O One: A thrill to see another of your creations. I believe you have revised, but I cannot pinpoint the changes you’ve made. All about this poem is soft, approachable, and layered with colors and sensory images. It is Mell W. Morris Classic. Words to savor. Essences to relish. Time, emotions, thoughts almost too deep for words, worded. Elegantly. Your way, as only you can write. Words like “zephyr, closely followed by “breeze.” A winding wind, “with no thought to intrude. So subtle that we do not feel ourselves awakened, but only in a thoughtful, musing state of mind. “A soft wind soothing my skin, perhaps formed before memory, likely a new vocabulary we may never know.” I love the tactile imagery, the layering of ideas, especially the idea of the wind “perhaps formed before memory.” That thought, a place to linger with considerations of what time is, what we are. What is poetry to the writer and the reader of it. I also love the imagery of the breeze “that pauses and inhales” as a sentient being, as an angelic being, perhaps. The Holy Spirit. The rising wail recalls for me images and sounds (imagined) of banshees, as spoken in story by my Irish grandmother. (Kept me from creeping out of my room at night for milk and cookies. I knew they were under my bed and would only grab my ankles if I left it for unworthy actions.) “In silence, I've endured a dividing wind, especially at a sunset hour when it's said that winds lessen or die.” The sense here is of the spirit, pulled, torn or detached from mooring, all the while the speaker waits in silence, especially at the “sunset hour.” The legends of the wind, as lessening or dying seems a powerful metaphor for our transformations and exhalations. Perhaps our deepest fears. It touches upon something un-namable. Do we welcome it, or resist? Is it only ‘imaginary’ or the part of us which knows, really knows, what wind it is that touches us. Your words, “winds lessen” also echo, for me, ‘wind’s lesson’ – what is the lesson aside from continuing the flow. Where the flow leads we may follow. “At setting sun, with susperious winds, there is a half hour which is the color of sadness, regret, and the hue- filled rhymes.” These lines above, with their coloration which appeals to the melancholy in me, pull me away and into the poem. Each rhyme with its own hues. You listening to the inner soul of yourself, reflecting back out again its process. The music of it allowing me to hear that refined –‘soul jazz’ if I may use that term. Yet nothing can keep out the darkness, away from illuminations that nurture a host of life forms. Amazing. I must have said that the first time I responded to this poem. I will say it again. You capture the manifest and unmanifest universe in these three lines. The life forms are swirling, the darkness noses in, seeking its unquestioned right to co-exist with light. And I? I live in the palm of His hand. Ah. Again, the final line delivers me. Seeing you there, sensing that life you live in that sanctuary. All-That-Is holding you, holding each of us with absolute surety. What else is there worth considering? I may have said this, too. Nobody gets into the very quiet places in my mind as you do. Sheer brilliance and handling of the language that is uniquely a MWM signature makes this one of my all-time favorites. Red, red roses extended, in a basket of spun silver. Always, your LL Em
This Poem was Critiqued By: Mandie J Overocker On Date: 2005-06-19 17:45:05
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Mell, Wow. what an incredible poem filled with imagery and natural impressions. I love your use of a 'new vocabulary' and am intrigued by the form you have chosen. each line kept me drawn to the next, and perhaps thihis was your reasoning behind your choice of form? I think you have done a great job here and i look forward to reading more of your writing. Mandie
This Poem was Critiqued By: Jennifer j Hill On Date: 2005-06-16 22:24:24
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Ahh Mell, You are definately after my heart with this one. The wind is at your back because He is right behind you whispering in your ear and coaxing, sometimes pushing you to the top of the hill, it is His very breath that softly carresses you as you are led every step of the way. It's funny how many people see only the judgemental side of our Creater and not the faithful, loving, peaceful, Joyful, patient, gentle, leading, kind, full of goodness Being that He is. But here you show us the truth of it. The way I see it we can either surrender or be led kicking and screaming. But, we will make it to the top of that hill one way or another. "A soft wind soothing my skin, perhaps formed before memory, likely a new vocabulary we may never know." This speaks to me in volumes. The imagination runs wild with the possibilities. Some will see this as a sad poem. And in part you do express a melancholy feeling, but to me this piece says so much more than that. And then "This wind resembles a zephyr, a breeze that pauses and inhales then rises to a wail like the one which blew us from the prairies to the seas." He can be as gentle or powerful as need be. I love your use of "susperious". There will always be a sadness that we did not get to acomplish everything we set out to do, even regret as you so precisely point out. But if not for the darkness, we would not be able to see the illuminatins.The stars shine brightly to teach us this very thing. I love the last line the best because it does show us where you are. In the palm of His hand. Where better to weather the weather? I very much enjoy knowing . May God bless and keep you, Jennifer
This Poem was Critiqued By: marilyn terwilleger On Date: 2005-06-16 20:37:02
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.77778
Dear Mell, I can't believe what just happened! I did a long critique of this poem then we had a power surge or something that shut everything off for a second and I lost it. I am going to write another crit because it is important to me that I tell you how this piece affects me. I have read it over and over and each time the lump in my throat grows larger and larger making swallowing painful..even the power surge did not correct that. Somehow I feel resignation in your words but also I feel peace, as well. Even the morphine nor the pain can dampen your love of words and the ability to express yourself in such a lovely way. For those of us that know you well and feel your anguish you have written this from you soul and for those that don't you have written a perfect lesson on how to limn a poem, as only you can....'comes a wind with no thought to intrude no wish to oppugn (wonderful word)a soft wind soothing my skin' even with the throat lump I feel peaceful here....'resembles a zephyr (I have always loved the word zephyr)that pauses and inhales then rises to a wail like the one which blew us from the prairies to the seas'...somehow this wind is like a metaphor for your pain which ebbs off before it consumes the senses with no compunction....'in silence I have endured a dividing wind, especially at a sunset hour when it's said winds lessen or die. Isn't evening when things seem worse, when a baby is the fussiest, and dawn seems too far away?...'there is a half hour which is the color of sadness, regret, and hue-filled rhymes.' These words intensify my own emotions, I can feel the grayness and the blues of yours....'yet nothing can keep out the darkness, away from illuminations that nurture a host of life forms' And I, I live in the palm of His hand. I will always remember these last words and when I do I will think of you today, tomorrow, and beyond. One of these days when I am in Texas you will say..."come meet me for coffee and bring it on girl"...we have so much to talk about and to share and I know we will. If He is listening to me like I think He is it will happen. I do so hope you receive this crit...it is not nearly as good as the last one...my computer just gave me a funny message so I will try to submit this and hope it goes. Thank you for writing this poem. God Bless you....Marilyn
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