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Fishing for Marks, and an Herb For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me, ill and you cared for me, in prison and you visited me. Matt 25 Like watching you play the top part left handed. The geyser you were, me: the dripping faucet. My sinuses, my sinews, and the throat-choking fog. Slipping my hand into yours. Feeling the blood rush - thrice, and you’re out. Finding the heat. Swallowing the words. And the wet worm. And the beat of the drumming grouse. It’s for you. What I couldn’t say, I left You wriggle off the hook. They part the See. Belt the long ball in bottom of the ninth. Leave. The moon off the hook. All astream, all for what? A dangling particle? Participle. Tiger. Atom, Adam. Stop your sighing. Let the earth shake its tail. How they stretch our little socks. Darn. With the sound off, I can hear you. Without you, Call 911. The tail of two witties. The four-minute smile. The end of thyme. |
This Poem was Critiqued By: Mell W. Morris On Date: 2005-11-03 15:23:38
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Hello, Tom,
I cannot count the # of times I've been chasing this poem
with a sudden interruption I had to stop and take care of.
As you know, I seldom understand all of your poems but
enjoy them immensely. Poets like you and Mark just "have"
it...open your mouths and out flows "a hundred million miracles."
You are probably too young to remember the musical "Flower Drum Song."
You begin with a biblical quote then lay the framework of your poem
in a metaphor of a baseball game. The 1st stanza seems like a paen of
love to a sig other. I enjoyed the second line of the other a geyser
and you a dripping faucet. Brilliant.
The wet worm is left by poet to wriggle off the hook and bam! "They part
the See." Love it! Then everyone's dream: hit the long ball in the bottom
of the ninth. I've seen it done a million time in memorable moments
that will ever be recorded. Kirby Puckett (my third star) did it wonder-
fully in two world series.
Leave the moon (off the hook) is so unique...why didn't I write this? Or
a dangling particle. Participle." Then you really weird out on us, or are
benched or sent to left field. Darn their little socks and with the sound off,
you can hear wife or whoever.
Last stanza finishes your title with end of thyme. Then a very touching little
aside: "Without you, Call 911." The comes the tale of two witties... has to be
you and Mark. I could do a four-minute smile, sweetheart, but walking is out.
JUST WAIT TILL I RECOVER.
Poets at TPL do not appreciate your work sufficiently, nor on a broad spectrum.
As I tell Mark, you need to recall the 8th grade level of reading of adults,
concluded after a national survey.
Don't know if I came close with this one. Oh my star: please reply as there are
only a few days for responses.
Brilliant as always and especially when you spewed word play all over the room.
Take care.
Mell