This Poem was Submitted By: marilyn terwilleger On Date: 2005-10-12 13:53:08 . . . 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!


Things Have A Season

I don't fear the coming of winter I know it's His plan that all things have a season.  So I don't mind Too much I spy decaying leaves and look on high to see black wings on blue aflutter.  When wind whips the boughs of heaven and sea or my heart sings for spring and I long for wily winds to wheeze in my ear.  I don't mind Too much When a soulful zephyr slinks over empty untilled fields and ploughs rest on lumps of mud, sapless foliage withers and dies. But I don't mind Too much Even Blue Birds have no time to  waste under the brown brume of a winter dawn. I yearn to see trees quicken and shiver with new birth but I am lost in ecstasy of anticipation and desire so I don't mind Too much

Copyright © October 2005 marilyn terwilleger


This Poem was Critiqued By: Tony P Spicuglia On Date: 2005-11-05 12:40:57
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.92308
Marilyn, I think a poem could not be more astute than this piece. Having slumbered and awakened, there is in the “seasons” the dreams that are, and the dreams that may be, either are dreams. Things Have A Season – This of course, so simple, and any who argue with it are too pragmatic to step back and watch, whether it is the flow of history and repetition, or the realism of winter changing to the rebirth of spring, it is indeed a truism. I don't fear the coming of winter I know it's His plan that all things have a season. So I don't mind Too much – In this stanza two things struck me most- the “his” plan, which demonstrates that whatever the thoughts of the reader, you are attributing fate to “intelligence”, someone, somewhere, who cares or directs, (hopefully both)- but also you reveal humanity in two words “too much”- we are all, and you in a very personal statement, poised to give the director a little latitude long as it is worth it in the long run. That is the crux, I think, were we to find out that it has not been worth it, real irritation is implied. I spy decaying leaves and look on high to see black wings on blue aflutter. – these lines are obscure- you speak of “decaying leaves” then “black wings”, I assume you have moved from a leaf to the passing of geese and ducks heading south, heralding the coming of winter. If that is so, it is a fine image for a mind to watch with you. When wind whips the boughs of heaven and sea or my heart sings for spring and I long for wily winds to wheeze in my ear. I don't mind Too much – Personally the thought of winds “whipping boughs of Heaven and sea” is so powerful that the rest of the stanza takes a “bow” in abeyance. You use the term “spring” as a metaphor for what is after this life, and indeed, with the loss of your husband, and the coming of winter- spring is seen a bit off the horizon. No matter the “wily winds” once again you “don’t mind much”. I wish I had that much appreciation for the answers not given, and the roads taken. When a soulful zephyr slinks over empty untilled fields and ploughs rest on lumps of mud, sapless foliage withers and dies. But I don't mind Too much – I appreciate the descriptives “untilled fields and ploughs rest” I think in these images there is much to be said for hope. Later you speak of “sapless foliage” and dying, but you don’t mind “too much”. The hope that is in the beginning of the stanza overwhelms the rest, particularly the term which sets the scene “slinks” which as much as says that the hardships, heartaches, are only here as long at the season, the pattern allows it. Bravado, not bravery, is the moments epitaph. Even Blue Birds have no time to waste under the brown brume of a winter dawn. – Odd pairing “winter dawn” it is as if the Blue Birds, you, will not succumb to the beginning of winter, knowing the story ahead of time. Indeed the opaque nature of the time only shields the knowing soul from the next phase, the next season of laughter. A fine metaphor on this life, and that to come!! I yearn to see trees quicken and shiver with new birth but I am lost in ecstasy of anticipation and desire so I don't mind Too much – I can imagine a soul such as yours in anticipation, lost in ecstasy, and the desires which draw you forth. Such different people but the spirit no doubt makes the mark in the “trees” whom, as far as we know, may not pass on to a new season, but become fuel and compost for the lives of others. Again, as you wait, you show forbearance for the season and you don’t mind “too much” A very fine piece Marilyn.


This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2005-11-02 16:56:58
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.75000
Marilyn, I feel like you.....autum's ok but winters close behind.... I LOVE spring, so I'll anticipate as you. Hope we make it through the winter! It does drag on....... You write so sweetly, like a most prized person.....by the many. Hugs dellena [short note just to support your nice work/it's getting late......sorry I'm dragging a bit.]
This Poem was Critiqued By: Mary J Coffman On Date: 2005-10-22 09:02:01
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Marilyn, This is absolutely wonderful! Such rich descriptions, and stunning imagery in this masterfully crafted poem. The title is perfection! What a great lead-in to the body of this poem. I don't fear the coming of winter I know it's His plan that all things have a season. So I don't mind Too much Love the 'hesitation' that is achieved by seperating "too much" from the main stanza and using it as a refrain line. It's perfectly executed. "I don't mind" ... but really I do! Love the contridiction here. And, the repetition of this refrain line throughout the poem reinforces this aspect nicely. I spy decaying leaves and look on high to see black wings on blue aflutter. When wind whips the boughs of heaven and sea or my heart sings for spring and I long for wily winds to wheeze in my ear. I don't mind Wonderful verbiage all through this beautiful poem. Love the use of the word 'spy' instead of see. It gives it a secretive quality, as if hidden behind a hunter's blind watching the scene unfold. All the 'w' sounds in this are so pleaseing. Great alliteration... "wind whips, wily winds wheeze..." Nice!! Gives it such a smooth flow, like the breezes themselves. When a soulful zephyr slinks over empty untilled fields and ploughs rest on lumps of mud, sapless foliage withers and dies. But I don't mind All the softness of the 's' sounds here are excellent. Again, wonderful alliteration here. The use of figurative language in this is great. Even Blue Birds have no time to waste under the brown brume of a winter dawn. The sense of urgency in this is overwhelming, and well portrayed. Your alliteration here has turned to the 'b' sounds. I especially like "brown brume of winter dawn," such a picturesque line to be sure! I think it's my favorite line in this *smile* Love your word choice there. I yearn to see trees quicken and shiver with new birth but I am lost in ecstasy of anticipation and desire so I don't mind What a perfect 'wrap-up' to this peice! We can't wait, and yet we can. Oh, the contridiction here! Love it!! The visions created in the mind, by this excellent work, are stunning and complete. Thanks for sharing this beauty with us. I so enjoyed this poem. It goes on my 'list' immediately! *grin* As always, Mary
This Poem was Critiqued By: Claire H. Currier On Date: 2005-10-15 14:04:30
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
As with all life there is a time and the Lord created the four seasons for most of us to enjoy, wonder through, and rest with. The coming of winter for most part is a time of quiet reflection and though it seems longer then most seasons and perhaps it is, it is still a time allowing each of us to renew our strengths as they say. Animals take time to hybernate and rest for the coming of Spring does burst forth with new life and renewed energies.....Spring in New England is my most favorite time for indeed the world does come to life........summer, fall and winter each have their seasons and this we cannot change. But then who would want to. I detest the coldest of days ahead, the snowfall that will keep me prisoner here in Tully for no one knows how long yet I would probably miss the first snaowfall if I lived in the south and if I lived other places that did not have foliage, now that would be sad. Boy am I off the trail here with this one, I know I am rambling but I must say you started it my friend. Thanks for posting and sharing. Life has its seasons too and I prefer the newborn , the welcoming in of new life to the saying good by to a dear friend, mom or dad.........God Bless, Claire
This Poem was Critiqued By: Turner Lee Williams On Date: 2005-10-13 13:49:07
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
marilyn–Almost a cliched title, but that’s where any similarity ends. Scribe’s take on a planned cycle for things as arranged by an all powerful entity indicates a pious, but non-fanatical belief system; “I don't fear the coming of winter I know it's His plan that all things have a season. So I don't mind Too much” Also, a beautiful reverence shown for all natural/nature gifts; “When a soulful zephyr slinks over empty untilled fields and ploughs rest on lumps of mud, sapless foliage withers and dies. But I don't mind Too much” Alliterations and refrains employed throughout piece provide pleasing assonance and openly enhances vivid imagery. Thank for this evoking post. TLW
This Poem was Critiqued By: Lora Silvey On Date: 2005-10-12 17:37:45
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Marilyn, Sound structure, good visual presentation coupled with an easy flow from thought to thought makes this wintery poem a delight. Things Have A Season [very apprapro and inviting] I don't fear the coming of winter I know it's His plan that all things have a season. So I don't mind [yes, the mighty plan] Too much I spy decaying leaves and look on high to see black wings on blue aflutter. When wind whips the boughs of heaven and sea or my heart sings for spring and I long for wily winds to wheeze in my ear. I don't mind [even in the change there is beauty] Too much When a soulful zephyr slinks over empty untilled fields and ploughs rest on lumps of mud, sapless foliage withers and dies. But I don't mind [all according to it’s season] Too much Even Blue Birds have no time to waste under the brown brume of a winter dawn. I yearn to see trees quicken and shiver with new birth but I am lost in ecstasy of anticipation and desire so I don't mind [funny how anticipation can bring such ecstasy, as we wait] Too much Without the winter how little appreciation we would have for the spring and the burst of new life. Yes we can hunger for it but we await through the fall and winter with baited anticipation. Thank you so much for this wonderfully descriptive read. Brava Warmest, Lora
This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2005-10-12 16:49:50
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Marilyn: Let me get to the point before I lose my most pertinent thoughts: I love this poem! I recognize it as the one we talked about and am honored to have its company with my own winter poem. Yours has whimsy and a sweetness I really enjoy. A sense of humor along with your wonderful word choices make this a stand-out. I especially enjoy the “I don’t mind …Too much.” It’s more than making the best of the coldest season, but a kind of rapturous ode to all of the seasons, your own celebration “in anticipation.” It’s delightful. I wanted to stick a word on the front of your title, when I first read it-- “All Things Have A Season.” And then I thought of the biblical “To everything there is a season” and thought that your choice is best. You aren’t really writing about “things” here, but perceptions of the moods of weather, of your longings and your faith. I spy decaying leaves and look on high to see black wings on blue aflutter. As I watched migrating ducks today, their black v’s against the sky, black wings on grey, I was moved to realize that change cannot be resisted. The wings can symbolize our willingness to move and be moved in the seasons of life. I love that you wrote “I spy” as if you suddenly saw them. And the internal rhyme of “spy/sky” is an example of the cool poetics you’ve used throughout this work. Here’s what I meant by humor: “When wind whips” and “sings for spring” and “wily winds to wheeze” -- You give personality to the wind and use lots of short ‘i’ sounds which lightens your touch, at least for me. The wind wheezes in your ear – how funny! Like an elderly relative, or an old, companionable hairy dog. You even have your “soulful zephyr” slinking – surely un-zephyr-like behavior, to be sure. And again, the sounds in “lumps of mud” with the deep vowels imply a soggy, sodden misery but you lighten it up once more, after the “sapless foliage which withers and dies” with your not minding, “too much.” {Even Blue Birds have no time to waste under} the brown brume of a winter dawn. –ooh, you knew I would swoon for this!! You use the plosive ‘b’ and ‘wn’ consonance expertly here. As your longed-for spring “trees quicken and shiver with new birth” and you make my fall-into-winter a lot more interesting and exciting with your creative expression. This one stands with your very best, MT. Brava! If you were a classical guitarist, I’d place you in the "Christopher Parkening Category of Excellence" -- A treat to the ear, my dear! Kudos, once more. My best always, Joanne
Poetry Contests Online at The Poetic Link

Click HERE to return to ThePoeticLink.com Database Page!