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This Poem was Submitted By: James C. Horak On Date: 2006-07-17 21:57:43 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Hot Days

Torching ground and the airborne life alike, Eye glazing ball of fire unrelenting: Though worshiped in winter with longing; In summer dreaded in chords of fear That thine tempest might wrap with Death Strange days follow, sensitive to strangeness, Inner sight comes to find plea from all Manner of life. The Kansas dove nestles closely unfearful Where it had not. Mockers espousing so much mimicry, silent now As if thoughts of impending nesting left No purpose to bagatelle song. Feral kitties honor no truce, or so little feather Piles tell. The unwanted squirrel, hit before with well-aimed Cherokee stick, Braves my eye coming near, a supplicant to generous Grace that I might resign in mercy what had Not been, in welcome. Digging a shallow slit in the ground to lay belly In the cool regard shown a stately Cottonwood. I am beseeched, mind turning to some silk screen Example Where desperation resigned all to another's mercy When rejection meant Death. I will not take the last breath of this boisterous rodent.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2006-08-06 20:41:28
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
James, Global warming yes? The blazing heat.Looked forward to in winter. We are almost at the point of no return. Hurricanes, floods, extinct wildlife, than us! This is about you 'best' this month. You had so many I liked. I got behind the silly one otherwise your too divided. This should be tops. It shows much concern over the consequnce of our lifestyle. I'm probably off base. I'm pleased you care for the beast. I believe them much more honorable than man. By far. Always, Dellena

This Poem was Critiqued By: Ellen K Lewis On Date: 2006-07-20 13:47:42
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.86667
Hi, James. I'm surprised that the airborne leaf wasn't a tumble weed! In summer dreaded in chords of fear That thine tempest might wrap with Death (I wonder about this line.It's the 'dreaded chords' that confuses me. I can't help but think that dread, fear, and music (?) don't play together. Piles of feathers tell. I like it. It is descriptive and feels hot. I'm sorry you didn't wipe the little guy off the face of the earth; put him out of his misery. But I can't blame you. I end up putting water and feed out for the wild things around my house. Especially water these days. Your cool demeanor and final statement are really well displayed. I like it! It's a great work! Smiles, Ellen

This Poem was Critiqued By: Turner Lee Williams On Date: 2006-07-20 12:20:22
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.75000
James--A fascinating list of observations fostered by(IMO)this dualistic write. Starting with the title, through the vivid verb- iage, which can be taken literally/figuratively (harmful due to seasonal nuances); "Strange days follow, sensitive to strangeness, Inner sight comes to find plea from all Manner of life." The seeking of solace/shelter from animals of prey by those less fearful; those sought by the free willers with power/money/egoes, position and no conscience. Some powerful metaphors employed in this well written work. Sorry if I've mistated your intentions, but thanks for an intriguing read. TLW

This Poem was Critiqued By: marilyn terwilleger On Date: 2006-07-19 07:52:07
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Hi James....this poem speaks to me on more than one level. I love the reference to nature and how cruel she can be when the "eye glazing ball of fire" bears down to scorch the earth making summer dread in chords of fear. You have used stunning descriptors here and they are appreciated by me. You speak of feral kittens and squirrels. Then suddently the tone changed (to me anyway) and you continue with "Grace that I might resign in mercy what had not been, in welcome." The remainder of the poem is doleful in that I think you are speaking of TPL and the decision you made to resign. Where desperation resigned all to another's mercy When rejection meant Death. I will not take the last breath of this boisterous rodent..................these lines are the telling ones (love boisterous rodent) they show determination not to relent but at the same time I hear regret at what you preceive as rejection. Of course I may have completely fractured your intent here and if that is the case just chalk it up to my sensitivity with regards to your decision to leave us. This is a wonderful write....I sense profound emotion and passion between the lines and in the words you didn't write. Peace....Marilyn

This Poem was Critiqued By: Mark Steven Scheffer On Date: 2006-07-18 13:22:00
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
JCH, Love it when you get off the soapbox and deliver a poem like this - without agenda. Life being lived. This one is kin to last month's poem about those Indian dolls. This line should be watered, and watered, and watered, tilled to extravagant lushness. This place is so dead. It is the cause, it is the cause . . . I am still swerving from my hallucenogenic swipe at a mind-altered JCH image on the forum. I already apologized, but . . . the depth of my misreading of your intent, weighed in the balance of past exchanges and HISTORY, ratchets up the guilt, and highlights the atrocity. I had no cause for that misreading. Sorry again, from the bottom of whatever i've got. I could have sent a private message, but this deserves public expiation. MSS

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