Rachel F. Spinoza's E-Mail Address: vytas_@prodigy.net

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Poem Title	Poet Name	Critique Given by Rachel F. Spinoza	Critique Date
japanese verse 42 (Pollination)	Erzahl Leo M. Espino	Nice lilting poem which is a beautiful tribute to a fine lady. The word "prittiest" is amazing here as it forces us to consider that this poem is about more than the Bard's lovers but we must look to nature to find an explanation. Excellent work	2004-04-06 11:08:26
Spring is Born	marilyn terwilleger	Ah, yes. I can feel it in the air and see it in the jacarandas and magnolias. A magical time indeed. This poem evokes it wonderfully well and with fresh perspective. Twilight of winter warbles [great verb] an ode to spring as the sun fawns [and here too –another great verb] above earth and shines [its] ardent brilliance o'er [why not just “over?” {o’er seems a little self-] consciously “poetic” and then you would get even stronger slant rhyme with “sober”] sober valleys and singing grasses [lovely] Naked trees bask in healing rays of spring's dawn. Shivering earth inhales the virgin air [wonderful]and breaths life into buds of guile[beautiful word –guile – but I think it is a stretch even at a metaphoric level] Gone are the belching spasms [really great – almost onomatopoeic!] of wind and the yammering [nice]of winter birds, born are dainty bonnie butterflies and red robins rejoicing in splendor [excellent!} The wind jars [to remain tense consistent]red forest yields to tranquility as warmth dissolves the carpets of white the pita-pat of rain bedews the boisterous leaves and festive petals [wonderful and alive] Spring is born Yes yes! Hooray hoorary! This is a wonderful poem Marilyn. Best Rach	2004-04-04 11:07:28
Can I Be Jewish Too?	Paul R Lindenmeyer	Sh'ma "Hear O Israel, the Lord our [G-d,] the Lord is One." Yes.. Shabbat keep holy the seventh day of the Lord. Yes.. Yeweh, the One Creator of all. No Certainly not in that Christain usage and spelling Must I deny the Sonship of the Christ? Sonship? No. We are all G-ds' children. And the Message of Salvation and Love? No, not the message just divinity of the messenger. And His Death and promised Resurection? Yes.. To deny thrice again I cannot.. Fine. You belong to a fine religion. Why leave it? Still, my Lord was Jewish too... Yes. Try to remember that when people are attacking Jews.	2004-04-04 10:31:18
japanese verse 43 (Destiny)	Erzahl Leo M. Espino	We are what we are Prodigy of our shadows Path of our footprints Lovely poem Erzahl, with all its layers of meaning this is an amazing philosophical treatise in three lines. We are what we are Yes. There are boundaries in which we live that define us – we are always in the act of becoming who we are and who we were and will be. Prodigy of our shadows We are the leftovers of a life lived – the debris of our own dreams and the dreams of our ancestors Path of our footprints And also of our descendents real and spiritual corporeal and shadow - we are are part of the future and the past and the now. Excellent piece about which volumes could be written. In a way - the title "destiny" limits the paths in which this poem can go ;} Best Rach	2004-04-02 09:36:21
Sable Shadow	marilyn terwilleger	The loss of a life partner is one of the saddest of events we are asked to bear. I am happy to learn that writing this lovely poem helped you deal with that loss. I think that is one of the grandest purposes of poetry - to help us reflect - assess the world and help to heal its sorrows. Sable Shadow wonderful title – simultaneously soft and ethereal . Of late you command my dreams with the same thrust you assumed [perhaps “achieved” instead of assumed as it would give you assonance with “dreams and still keep the alliteration with “alive” and be a little more forceful?] when alive. You are capricious in my apparitions, antipode of how you lived your life [wonderful and flowing with meaning] I am past the grief of death that haunted me for years, but am now disturbed by your image that looms in my nocturnal id like a tenacious incubus disturbed wow – amazing visual writing! The dark of midnight [a little ordinary] shakes my soul and jars me like a fatalistic drum beat. [wonderful] You cast a sable shadow around my mind [love this I suggest ending the poem here with A line break that has “around my mind” alone on the last line but I know not why. I fear that you will beckon me - this might be used earlier in the poem. This is a deeply beautiful poem Marilyn	2004-04-02 09:26:33
Spring Quartet	Joanne M Uppendahl	I kept hoping this poem would get to the top of my list and it never did 'cause others grabbed it but I will tell you how wonderful it is before it disappears from the months offering. Mallards swing-walking, [the phrase "swing walking" - describes the walk powerfully in just one word} look for feasts of cracked corn or otherwise, [not sure of "otherwise] slowly turn their shining heads in lily-washed air. ["lily-washed air" is so splendid it shines] Seagulls perch on pilings, ruffle white cloaks above orange knees-- [what a great picture you paint - ] knobs of surprise [yes yes!} leading to expectant feet. maybe "eager" expectant makes me think they are with egg Frogs roaring the pond, [is that like wagging the dock? - sorry - i really love this line!} determined to do what they were born to do: singing wetly, [yes! yes! yes! a wet chorus !]" the whole sweet night before them. I fall asleep listening to their chorus [just the frogs or all of the creatures?} resounding, resounding-- [neat!} then I float in their black water, while the white moon wanders looking for her mate. the last line is brilliant and the whole poem shines with your lovely language sweet syllablics and expert use of every poetic device known. Brava RAch	2004-04-01 09:34:20
APPROACHING FULL CIRCLE (a self portrait)	Marcia McCaslin	I can never write something wonderful to on a challenge and I admire those people, like you - who can APPROACHING FULL CIRCLE (a self portrait) [great title!} My childhood has caught up with me. what a fresh thought! I gave it a firm brush-off, for I had important, compelling things to do, and it would slow me down. yep - we do that so often - poor us For a long while, it waited in the distance, a child in shadows, admiring me, wanting to be my friend-- yes..i can see the little head peering sideways from behind the drapes and my equal. Especially that, yes ! What an intersting psychological study this poem is. When my first grandchild arrived, I heard myself talking baby talk but not only to her: to friends, my husband, my coworkers. How marvelous> I wish someone woudl talk baby talk to me All the years [of:] pregnancies, snarled relationships, pets, children, horseback riding, skiing, Dancers' Workshop, the little certificates of achievement lots of different kinds of diverse items makes a great list have gone--poof! but not really gone - as we find out later in the poem- not gone at all Only the child remains, holding my hand, listening to my stories, being my friend-- and my equal. How wonderfult to make peace with and fully accept ones' innner child. Sometiems I think mine needs to be spanked. Wonderful poem Marcia	2004-03-31 18:01:02
Among Lilies	Lynda G Smith	Gosh. I looked at your website and you are living the life I dreamed about when I was planning my own.. A would be a Renaissance woman with my own retreat - in Canada. Sadly, I couldn't draw or sing or do much except scribble some poetry, but I see you can do it all, and damn it it can do it all splendidly. Welcome to TPL. Among Lilies [lovely title] Lilies wrap my legs In ribbon curls To pull the limbs of my being beneath the meniscus of my thoughts. As vivid and luscious a portrait as any flower by Georgia O’Keefe. The evocative word “menicus”[but isn’t it ”meniscus” - the knee joint right] is complex enough to be a bridge for an analogy for thoughts and the alliteration sings like a violin. . Their vagrant castings of crimson coils, [ahhhhh] promise to preserve that virgin nerve from the pickling white brine of memory. [I would kill to have written that desciption] They encircle an ankle and linger with suckling pull within a tender hollow to shudder, to cull a liquid sigh, [ahhhhhh] a last response to what was left undone [things done and undone – echoes of Eliot]. Are these the keepers Of last breath, Of life, or death, Or simply a servant of a drowning mind That spirals down the spirit Into the abyss of the unconscious. [I thin the phrase “abyss of the unconscious is too easy and ordinary a thought for this extraordinary piece.] A darkling process… [yes yes indeed ] but from this deep cold storage, A baptism of belief In promise and possibility, Will rise with the lilies Come spring. Come spring – yes—wonderful piece about hope and as so very beautiful it makes me want to read it over and over. Do stay with us a while. The view is good and the furniture simple but comfortable. Welcome Rachel	2004-03-30 09:27:28
By the Pond	Joanne M Uppendahl	Ah....i was having a hectic day and just seeing a Joanne u poem made me relax and kick back knowing i was in for a treat. By the Pond [fine title] Stalks of wild iris like green-dressed sentries greet wandering geese. nice i/e alliteration and and lovely analogy. I can picture this as if i were back in Canada Ducks glide on water cupped in pond’s upturned palms cupped/upturned -lovely "tern" of phrase [sorry] as late arriving gulls wheel and dip to receive air offerings of flung bread. Does this mean they catch them in the air? Or that they are flung in the air beautiful language but a little confusing - I hope they are caught in the air - love that image! Nascent yellow buds snuggle in spring’s pale womb-- [wonderful!} a cradle full of summer with velvet sighs to come. ahhhhhhhhh...yes	2004-03-29 19:01:28
At The Mammae of Modernity	Thomas Edward Wright	Damn I wish i could write like this. But then I birthed a baby so i guess it all evens out “The locker room of my skull is full of panting egrets.” yeah, yeah, James, me too I want to bear a child. it's not as easy as it looks This wish, I know, may never be fulfilled. It is like wishing for a new world. A good friend. A B-B gun for Christmas. All things we should have but won’t. A b-b gun? No way --- you can have the baby the new world and the good friend though I want to carry this child for every day of a full term. Not a Nixon-ized premature delivery from the womb,[love it] nor A Clinton-esque affair to derail the current train of thought.[heh] I would sing (La!) for forty weeks.[i love [LA!] this line] Loud, in the shower, from a tower, In a crowded house, even with a mouse. and even while puking in the dust I would buy pink Blueberries, and Blue Cherries there are BLue Cherries? really? and, Spumante ice cream and wear the banners of every Pink and blue team in the newspaper. love it love it I would name him Adam. Or Horatio. But not Mike. I would name her Eve. Or Mike. But not Horatio. Horatio? I knew him! She would be my Angel. He would be my Star. I would follow both, either, ever, afar. what a delicious dip of the toes into the banal My desire to bear this burden has no bounds. My ability to accomplish this is my current burden. pobrecito! - i would help but i lack the skills Suddenly, miraculously, I am pregnant with this vision! MAZEL TOV! The prodrome of labor is upon us! The pangs of pain are real. yes, yes The child is born. A cry forlorn is heard. The baby poops. A diaper changed. In hunger screams. Loud lightning hits: Mommy is a man who forgot to wish for ... more more more	2004-03-29 10:59:29
japanese verse 41 (Rainbow)	Erzahl Leo M. Espino	japanese verse 41 (Rainbow) Lovely poem Ezrahl and really an argument for the superfluousness of titles in these kinds of pieces. : } The "spectrum" which is named tells us what we are looking at marvelously well. We know it is a rainbow from the first word. The fact that there is metaphoric language - spectrum of hope – “heaven’s cheeks” of course makes it less classic a Japanese poem but adds its own spicy Western flavor which blends beautifully in your work. You really grammatically need the article a before “plethora” and since it is a collective noun, the plural” falls” - but I know that would that would hurt the count so perhaps a world like surplus? Lovely work – grounded in nature and shining with its own bright colors.	2004-03-28 13:27:11
The Splendor of Fire	Jordan Brendez Bandojo	Jordan, this is a fine poem due partly to the fresh use of language so I will atttempt to critique it without making suggestions that would dilute the novelty of some of the word choices of phrase costruction. The Splendor of Fire ["Splendor" is one of my favorite words so you drew me in with the title] I gather woods and ignite fire cook rice and frizzle[a combination of "fry and "sizzle" we can hear the bacon crackling and smell it so strongly it makes this bacon avoider wince : } The meal is served. Furnace flares; The warmth of winter. Kiln kindles; The strength of bricks. [love that strong analogy and the f and k alliteration!] Fire sets my heart ablaze [a little ordinary] Lighting the place I dwell you [i dwell you.... is wonderful !" There I built a window So I can pipe at your effulgent [not quite the right word] eyes. There I put a door So I can knock and talk to you. There I planted lilacs, When [I] suffocate[-d] I will scent [their] aroma [or I will smell the aroma there] and be revived again. ["revived" implies a rebirth so your don't really need "again" but if you want a continum of revival I suggest "again and again" Thank you for [kindling] the fire inside my heart. The last line is not as fresh as some of the others so I suggest you find a stronger way to end this remarkable piece. best Rach	2004-03-27 10:59:57
What Missing You Means	Rick Barnes	What a wistful, poignant piece, Rick with all those missg/missing sounds which contribute to audible shushing of the outside world. What Missing You Means I don’t know what I miss most of all. I suppose I miss the missing of you. [ah, yes] After all, We wiled the most of our time away Willfully missing one another. [great play on words with the l and s sounds] Yes, that's it. I miss a way of missing you [very dramatic] Where missing you meant That the most of our time was spent Wrapping our arms around nothing but hope, [wonderful personification of "hope" And yet everything was self-contained And we drained every dram of dream [i like the D alliteration] Out that vast space between The way things are, And the way things seem. [Oh. Rick this is so powerful it deserves at least a line break if not a final positon!] It is only now, without the dreams, That I really know What missing you means. fine job! Best Rach	2004-03-26 13:21:53
Doppler Effect (Revision)	Joan M Whiteman	Doppler Effect (Revision) She held her breath as the breeze sighed by, gently rouging her cheek. It brought to mind his touch and the sweet taste of temptation. perfect She remembered the thrill of his arrival, welling in her breast like the sound of an approaching train. I am on the fence about this” I think that She remembered his arrival, the thrill of the approaching train. Was a little better because it was more subtle to be “thrilled” by the train and Not directly by the pending arrival – it take santicipation to a higher level – but if that was a change suggested by the AM people – then – yes,,,,,,go for it [How many rainstorms have since saddened her soul?] The moment rushed in, filling her soul to the brink, [yes but “filling her to the brink is brilliant!] clouding her eyes, like early-morning mist. Time ran, deeper than midnight, faster than the light from falling stars.[lovely] A whistle blew. She felt the spaces grow. He left a fleeting touch, more bruise than memory. [perfect and alive!] The train dwindled into dust. [wonderful description and a good referral back to the Doppler effect] She heard the wavering sound of distance, fading like forgotten vows. [yes yes! And a hearty congratulations for being tentatively accepted in so prestigious a magazine! Hide this as soon as you get the feedback you want so they do not decide that it has been previously published if they google it.	2004-03-25 17:22:53
Swimming With Mary	Thomas Edward Wright	Swimming With Mary love that title Like a lost contact lens – I found Death helped me see. ....how very cunningly emily dickinson sneaks in! In this massive prison where we fought Tooth and nail, night and day[i love when old expressions are made new again by a quick flick of the wrist] conjuction. To keep it at bay – I love the trangendering wisdom going on here: I walked Death into her room and sat Death down and showed Death his next card. WONDERFUL much better than the old s/he trick The light over the Mississippi dims As through a different And less dangerous lens [darkly?..too evocative I think unless it is an homage in which case as rossannadanna said..nevermind} I see Mary again Sitting in her hospital gown Her ribcage threadbare, Heaving, sucking the oxygen From the air like a vacuum cleaner In a mad and manic search for dust how powerful and dramatic your words! In her best cyanotic blue [what ironic majesty of phrasemaking!} She drifts in and out, Smiling as she gasps, Pursing her lips - politely – As if we’d mind her fetid breath Or even notice fetor – poignant enough to bring this cynic to tears in the memory of the similar death of my elegant and proper mum. Thin as a rake handle. Eaten. And still a smile. yes Her limping eyelids half-mast again. This has been going on for two weeks. The slow suffocation of cystic fibrosis. Mary has four siblings with this syndrome. The room is a morgue with a waiting list. what unimaginable woe I am unable to leave her side today. She looks worse – which is better. I cannot see the point in her suffering another day Another minute. no... We all hold hands and pray that she’ll learn how to swim. wonderful! As I reflect on our short life together, As one of hundreds of young physicians Who sat at the foot of her bed, Listened to her jokes and her deep wet cough – I feel lucky to have known her, her family. For twenty one years they’ve known this day was coming. How long can you wait? How do you wait? You don’t. Later, after the carbon dioxide had effectively Snowed her, and the morphine had taken Her across the lake, to the safe side, the sunny shore – I thought about our prayer, and the meaning of her life - To swim? No. That she already knew. She’d taught all of us. Not only to swim - But how to drown. wonderful lesson. bravo.	2004-03-25 12:19:42
My Summer Dream Cabin	Marcia McCaslin	I love this speculative self examining piece which is universal in its ponderings and joyful and aliv in language My Summer Dream Cabin [Not crazy about the title - the poem works on many more levels than that and a publisher might not realize that an pass the poem over. It hides deep in a steep canyon, its north side crocheted in webs of reindeer moss;[soft and lovely description] its throaty song joins in harmony with the stream cavorting nearby. I love the word "cavorting" It makes me think of deer and children other lively actions. Wood smoke puffs from the chimney, (dit-dit-dit dit-da-dit) mountain code for: someone is home and all is well. enormously clever device which works well! A high-country garden yields young crops-- lettuce, radish, arugula-- a salad bar for all creatures [yes yes! wonderful} hungry for the taste of green. Animals, wary at first, sense that the intruder means them no harm. Finally, they feast openly on the strange leaves with exotic flavors and allow themselves to be photographed. I like the way this narrator steps gently into this bucolic scene The nest-building, the denning, and burrowing continue, for the nurturing of youngsters is a most serious and time-challenged - a little too yuppy a term I think - but maybe its just me business. The nurturing of my own soul is serious as well; after years of running the hot, sweaty race, it is now time to relax, to fill my cup and drink deeply from the glacial trickle. ah...yes...the ending pulls it all together and introduces us to the poet behind the pen as she steps out of the page announcing to all the world - this is what I have learned - great great conclusion -- and I love that cool sounding "glacial trickle" As a silly aside - what a great name that would be for a brand of bottled water!	2004-03-25 11:40:56
The Bucket	Marcia McCaslin	The Bucket Old as the dirt that packs its seams, its burnish has long since wearied. Even the rising of a resurrecting sun Can barely coax a gleam, although reds and oranges translate to a bit of glint on its pocked surface. I love this introductory stanza with its amazing subtle visual tones and the lovely assonance and multiple meanings in such phrases "as rising of a resurrecting sun." I did have a moment's pause at ]the hyperbole of the bucket begin "as old as ...dirt" but I got over it. It hangs by a wire on a post that lives out its remaining days, ambiguous - the post or the bucket - here an unwitting teller of time. Two roan horses and a mule wait by the bucket, noses nudging it, eager for the morning routine. ah. even in age it also serves~! Suddenly, they recognize the footsteps of the stable boy, watch him approach with downcast eyes and tousled hair. Ears lop and twitch as the bucket is taken by its overburdened bail. wonderful description _ i can see the boy Ears project forward as they perceive the whispering swish of oats, [fantastic sounds!} sticky with molasses, being scooped. The sound [softens?}s as the bucket fills. Ears back, they jostle for their places at the manger, chewing the wonderful mixture, eyes half-closed as though in prayer to the Giver of all grain. ah...luscious scene which has more than one Christian Bibical allusion. As late afternoon calls in its debts,[wondrful phrase making1} the stabler fills the bucket with water and forgets. His mind is on the tavern-- the sounds and smells of it reach irresistibly into his lonely world. The plot becomes even more complex! Great storytelling too. With the falling of the dark sky, the bucket, old as the dirt that packs its seams,[I like the conculsion coming full circle to the beginning] has become a thing of beauty [and thus - a joy forever - wonderful allusion ]as it proudly cradles a crescent moon, and reflects a bucketful of stars from The Milkey Way WOW the ending explodes in a new direction! BRAVA	2004-03-25 11:31:46
Israel	Marcia McCaslin	How could I not love this poem and copy it for friends and relatives to show them that people really do care about Israel and her peoples in this time of renewed Anti-Semitism in life and on the screen. Israel, apple of G-d’s eye, you have been mathematically positioned upon the earth. Amazing fresh speculation which gives us a G-d's eye perception of the land The eye of Jerusalem watches the heavens from the coil of the Golden Spiral. Fine reference to the "Eye of the Needle Gate" - the narrow entrance to Jerusalem through which it was almost impossible for a camel to pass. The heaven reference - contrasted with that narrowness os amazing! [-The ]beleaguered Bethlehem,[so close in language it is almost an anagram! Fine writing can do this.] revered by some, despised by [repeat "some" - here for cadence and drama I think] is the crux of the Rectangle, highly esteemed according to the equation, rightly placed according to[- the] Divine Geometry. Yes...fascinating speculation Why was so harsh a land chosen for this people and this time? ["this time" is brilliant as it has been thousands of years and yet a blink of the eye in the time of the world - amazing writing!] It seems as though the soil is reluctant, the wind relentless and the sun searches every shadow until it finds a particle of itself. Lovely! ah, yes - in the hot winds over the desert there are many many shadows Your steel soldiers fight with supernatural strength to win impossible battles. Their true destinies to be scientists, scholars and Nobel Prize winners are put on hold while G-d fulfills His purpose. Genetic memory marks the path of their sacrifice. beautiful tribute! No one can afford to sleep, least of all the G-d of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. nope - nor His/Her people Perhaps there are answers in the Pythagorean School of Numbers, but how many searchers remain? And of those who remain, how many understand? And perhaps that is only star gazing - in any case - it constrasts nicely with Bibical reference. As for me and my household, I will stand by my interpretation of Genesis 12:3—(God is speaking to Abraham): And I will bless them that bless thee, and curse him that curseth thee: and in thee shall all families of the earth be blessed And may you be blessed and all your household be blessed for this lovely and amazing poem. b'Shalom Rachel	2004-03-22 09:26:53
Karl Rove's Nightmare	Leo Wilder	what delicious irony ...I would love to hear this sung! "Let's have a parade in Dallas in an open limousine, [and, hey let us forget what that open limo could mean] with the radio a blarin' some big boobed country queen. We'll chew on home made jerky of deer I'll claim I shot, [love it] and then throw down a six pack and smoke a little pot. [Which would explain his craziness but really, not a lot] I'll bring those fair haired beauties me and Laura raised, I'll try to keep them sober so they don't seem so crazed. Dress them in shorts and tank tops and let them flash the crowd, perhaps a little cheering won't make the boos seem loud. [Yep, dubya know just what to do to please a Texas crowd] Maybe Jeb can join us with his favorite ballot box; chads saved as confetti [love it1} will prove the 'Shrub Man' rocks. As we cruise through Deely Plaza beneath an autumn sky, just know that Texas loves me . . . ." In the sweet bye and bye. [And i hope that this election we see the scoundrels cry} I really enjoyt this clever parody and intend to sen it around to my friends -properly credited of course...thanks Rachel	2004-03-19 12:58:10
Political Senryu 4	Michael J. Cluff	Hi. Mike I guess it really is sometimes hard bringing "culcha " to Fontana, home of the Hell's Angels. but you are head of a marvelous community theater which might, in time, serve to enlighten at least some of those ignorant county bigots. Good pointed Senryu the count of which might be off for some people but which largely works in my dialect	2004-03-18 19:44:15
Night Train	Emma Quinn	Night Train Good title which evokes a myriad of train and whistle poems, songs, longings Cars rattle and sway over long-haired tumbleweed trestles really neat subtle demi-personification here - suggestion of long hair tresses in the train word trestles - this is what fine poetry can do - wake up our poweres of association and let us paint our own pictures with just a hint of a shaded word. the blood deep [tattoo] [great further personification but are any tatttos less than blood deep? steel wheels on steel rails a context of crossties [lovely phrasemaking] and sleepers dig into deserts of dream, [ahhhh,,,,lovely] breathe slow[ly]. another fine poem Rachel	2004-03-17 18:57:02
So What	Regis L Chapman	Really neat concept poem. Regis so what if I don't know Emily Dickinson yeah so- what -[except that you miss the image of the chariot and th horses head toweard heaven and the snake and the bell and ..... Robert Frost and hte path and the fence and the rhythm and the light or the difference between counting the cost ? - a thanks to you shall I bow? nah...just say thanls - a senryu just count how? - or a haiku naturally, now? yes - well form has its function although sunction can be without form i suppose and so what if I don't know how to break up my lines in such a way as to express the utter amazement at another day well, I say you can ce;lebrate it your own way and halleluha anyway so what if I make things up off the top of my head yeah - as long as they are as good as this poem - who cares and don't revise this 20 times nah before I release it into the world all feral like the cats and cars great analogy for someone who is railing 'gainst form! I pass on my morning run [paths?] that don't come when I call and they don't care and neither do you you aren't anymore, Sylvia Plath nope and neither is she as a matter of fact and so what if that or this is true here is my best nothing against the rest this is not a test nope we are not here to compare hit my chest with forceful beats or bear a shield with silly crest like imaginary contemporaries of the Yeats' was there more than one famous Yeats? so what if I still admire those giants with shoulders I have my own fire I have my own boulders And your own sharp and accurate arrows Right on!	2004-03-17 17:59:36
Bound By	Regis L Chapman	very Gibran like indeed quantum creature bound by body blinded by suffering buffering a wrong divine heaven's oddity clearly sublime creation continuous spine along with time a song aligned continuity [splined? don't know this word] hands and arms hold fast electric pain found bands and charms wound/ [the ambigity of the word "wound" in this double context makes the construction doubly interesting] pounding haste sound smell touch taste style pass clouds of earth do the same wasting wasteful chaste but tasteful all the while. Really nice stream of conscienceness piece. Regis. I made suggested line breaks to highlight the internal rhythm and rhyme of the piece but clearly this is just a suggestion.	2004-03-17 17:49:26
Senryu 154	Michael J. Cluff	oooooo--very visual and the crow who is squaking is a great metaphor it does eveything a senry should do - and lushly -love those colors!	2004-03-17 13:01:00
Seeking Comfort	Jane A Day	On the outside looking in , eh? That's what mikiey says about this cold cold poem which i think is about changing into new rooms of consciousness and perhaps an even longer voyage into the unknown Mikey saus i;m dancing qwith cliches which is a great expresion I think, but he is too far away fro the screen to really read it. I myself, love the winter/windiw.flint and flame and mikey likes the moon reference [ but we know that that means. ] Anywaywe both love it kiss kiss hug hug RnM ps. Mikey is being held hostae by Brodsky/	2004-03-16 23:52:21
Chant	Jane A Day	Chant welcome back ms day and with a brilliant shout of a chant too Deep voices carve[wowee what a n evocative fresh verb!] song heavy as [a- demon I think - I bet there are lots of those falled demi-gods] demon of adultery in the first cycle [perhaps [thrust -or turn of a marriage - cycle seems to washing machine for me-] of a marriage. The beat of throat hum under throat hum waves pale the sopranos of vespered nuns. ahhhhhh - i went into a zen stupor when I read that stana twice - and my throat is still vibeating wonderful! This music is strong enough to heave the darkness  from the [sp?muscels ]of -our shoulders.  This sound [carries us] across the bridge to unreachable heaven.  lovely ozymornic ending to a specacular piece	2004-03-16 11:15:00
Funeral	Emma Quinn	Welcome, Emma! What a wonderful "orange surprise" to find this rich talent right here on the Link. This poem is a flowing tapestry of sound and sense - with the hand of an accomplished writer in every phrase: Funeral A jubilation of relations Wonderful collective word which captures exactly this gathering hums round the house, perfect verb and interanl rhyme! thumbs busy with beads, [-with] bread, [-with] bones, [ah, bones, yes - bones] runs off to the store for more ice, [more food, more beer, [great collection of necessities] reveals secret skins of stories [ah...skins of stories is marvelous] pressed into tiny layers of secrets,[is there a way to avoid repeting the word "secret?"] celebrates a life,[too ordinary a phrase for this extraordinary piece] mourns a death with orange surprizes and flowers. [love this ending which engages our senses.] What a marvelous accomplished work - I am so looking forward to seeing more! Best Rachel ------------------------------------------------------------------------	2004-03-16 08:43:19
Escape	Regis L Chapman	Escape [good title - fits the piece] I want to escape from [-the ]reminders that someone has been here before I don't [-even] know why I feel this but I [-still] do and as I drive by you protected by my windshield and you by yours I can stare out at you [ and yours] as I go by [I] know that you feel this too sometimes I would like to know you I would like to talk about what we can do to make it different but then again I don't want  to see you near me anymore, either... whatever shall we do? Interesting poem which allows us to imagine a lot of differet stories -= someone fantasizing about a stranger passing with her kids in a car and projecting feelings about a lost love , - Someone actually seeing a ex and becoming nostalgic, - a stalker who sees a famous person and follows her imagining that they had had a relationship. This is remarkable in that there is great depth of feeling in a poem that is starkly written.	2004-03-14 11:27:06
Poems I Cannot Write	Sandra J Kelley	Poems I Cannot Write great ironic title - i I cannot write love poems. Each time I try  I write instead sunsets,  grey or pink, over Lake Ontario [lovely] when the wind picks up and the tops of the waves [perhaps "turn" for a softer vowel here?"go from white to flame then to inky [too ordinary an adjective]black, or, I write about lightning in August, how it is so humid that even before the rain my hair is plastered dripping to my head [WOnderful - we can feel it - great tactile desciption] sometimes, it is blankets of snow forming, did you know snow  can fall on an almost clear moonlit night, white flakes illuminated  against the black sky? lovely, lovely ending to a wonderfuly visual piece best of luck wih the collection, Rach	2004-03-14 11:15:06
I Wanted To	Sandra J Kelley	I love thie piece Sandra - a lot of my suggestions are just typo stuff . Alone in darkness with cool air and cooler satin sheets [sp. surrounding] me, listening to the hum of tires on pavement and of the night insects, I think of you. The warmth of your body, the slight [sp. stubble] from shaving, gently [sp. abrading] my face, shoulder, neck. Lovely and evocative – you lead us so completely into the room that I feel like an trespasser! [in those precious evenings when I listened to you read poems about your father[,] standing there[, ] with [your ]half-mad eyes and tumbled hair-sometimes wearing a torn tee shirt, leather tie and soccer cleats. In those moments, I wanted to... [love that evocative ellipse…lets us fill in the blanks] That single afternoon in your arms [purportedly?] learning to extricate myself from the hold you had me in but, instead, learning the feel of warm flannel on my cheek, your rhythmic [sp. breathing,] the ways of my own body's response. Learning about fire. GREAT GREAT SECTION Endless [-finite] mornings coming awake seeking out [pen] and pale-lined paper, I wrote poems about Lake Ontario and trees, storms blowing themselves out. All of those mornings, I wanted to... I wanted to tell you the truth: I never wanted you to believe me. WONDERFUL ending!	2004-03-13 11:33:57
Leaves Cling	Regis L Chapman	Leaves Cling Nice title which is ambiguous enough to suggeest that there is metaphoric illusion awaiting us. the leaves are tears that cling to the road of my brain "Road" works at a metaphoric level but is a bit iffy at a literal level and the best metaphors work on both - i like the idea a lot though though- perhaps a synonym for "road" more common in language about the brain such as "pathways?" as I drive over fears which continue to goad despite their pain faceless mouths interesting -- makes me think of the cheshire cat open to horrible utterance they fall on and around this silver umbran carriage encased in silken gossamer strings of governance leading in and out fantastic image - the trappings of the physical I think...reminds me of Yeats ... in every direction what it's about is discovered on silent reflection through and through nice pattern of sound and meter here I strive a breath forward in my silent splinter [nice alliteration and interesting phrase] blown by a wind the fall of my intent has turned to winter [good pun on "fall" and marvelous homage to the Bards Richard 111 -"Now is the winter of my discontent..." and the leaves buried beneath the muted white that has come down as a blessing like time/ to the vintner great ending which suggests both ripened grapes and the coming "winter..." This is marvelously complex and interesting work, Regis	2004-03-10 12:01:32
Just Like You	Mick Fraser	From the ironic title to the touching ending - this is a powerfully moving poem After recently coming back into my life, you passed away suddenly last April. 81 years of experience; your traits, loves and failings sadly I knew only a few you set the scene well in telling us in a few words of a lifetime's story of abandoment and longing From the funeral home visitation to what my siblings have since shared [with me] It is clear I am just like you which makes me happy and a I feel a sense of pride really positive feeling here which is poignant given the situation I share your keen beliefs; good is within us [...an important belief, yes] we can do anything we put our mind to change is sometimes pleasant and necessary respect and integrity are important values [...yes, indeed they are!] give to others quietly without acclaim changing the world is a peaceful pursuit nature should always be admired [interesting thought] I like to think that I am gifted with your [straight-forward] intelligence not wasting time with inflammatory debates, where reasoning and planning are simple and always dealing with first things first I too am very curious but haven't traveled to 110 countries [wow- some accomplishment] Like you I am comfortable with my looks even my tanned bald head I inherited your appreciation for the fairer sex [a little old-fashioned here] but as you knew this sometimes creates challenges The connection I feel is overwhelming yet none of your gifts will help me now for no matter how I try to use my innate skills and power, like you, the perforation in my left pulmonary valve is inoperable really good analogy to end the piece on a fresh but alarming note.	2004-03-07 23:39:52
Living a Loss	Robin Ann Crandell	living a Loss Hi, Robin That is a good title which takes us right to the heart of the poem. II tells us what the poem will be about is a determination to go on although someone is in pain. This kind of loss is so powerful that the subject is one that is done over and over, and yet each person's experience is a little different so each persons telling of the tale has something to teach us about dealing with sorrow. . It gets so crazy at times [it does, yes] why I still think about you  [in -my] I think you don't need the pronoun "my" because the speaker is understood and the poem flows better without it I think -just my opinion.] most memorable ways it just never, ever pays I am still here with the grief of losing you you have no idea what i have gone through ah, yes we always think this and it is doubly hard to accept at first loss i don't even care how my poem is [good desrciption of a feeling of abandoning everything! and what I am about to share it makes me feel sick  that I don't even care ah, yes....indeed it can do that i go through life  ["as if i were..."for the grammar?}still with you doing things [myself?}that only you would do I am chasing  ghosts of me [really nice metaphor]and you if only you could feel like this too it is so natural to want the absent husband or lover to feel something I always knew how much  [maybe ..how much -I would - miss you?"}' but knowing more is  not hurting less It's just pressing on taking your chances like a game of chess yes..exactly like a game of chess The end-game after a careful season of precision and lparing. Life is like that at times Which way to turn which way is left Hoping that the Grace of God  will kick in.. I like the casual language here "kick in" is marvelous And reality will set in For the love of Him  I could not forget. [nice thought - and it offers hope for] I know I tried to find the love of God in you But, now I know so were you. ah, two people looking for spiritual light will be okay in the end certainly I am trying to move on [As]  you already have Thinking of you from day  to day Wishing I could have had  just one more day. ah...yes. but , yet - it does not sound futile -it sounds as if the narrator has memories enough for a lifetime and that there was a lot of good in the relationship that will light the way for the next time. I just think of what Garth Brooks once said, "Thank God for unanswered prayers." For it is [He who] knows the best for you and for me. That is a great line! Yes, one must be careful about what one wishes for~ I will still always love you from the deepest depths of my soul Although this break-up has taken it's toll .I guess that all great feeling changes us in some way. Hopefully the experiece will have turned out to be mostly a good memory. except, of course for the pain of loss. . Although, I wish I  [were] there in the  morning to still tell you, "hello." Yes. Indeed . We can feel the palbable pain. Heartfelt and poignant poem, robin.	2004-03-07 17:41:51
One Just Bell	Rick Barnes	One Just Bell Lovely piece Rick - good to see your work again lovely ecumenical poem the construction of which put me in mind of John Donne I don’t what to hear the chimes Congratulating those who’ve tithed, nice near rhyme of chimes/tithed Nor the welcoming peal We reserve for those who’ve just arrived. Spare me the holy tower of song served for those so blessed, And the clarion gong That washes clean all saved souls confessed. ah yes Let me hear a dull dank knell [a phrase worthy of Poe] Until we have truly begun To work toward and forge that [-one just] bell   That rings for everyone.  from your pen to G-d ears! love it	2004-03-07 13:26:25
A Growing Appetite for Spring	Joanne M Uppendahl	I keep crahing - but i needed to stop to tell you how much i love this piece Common caterpillars,  browsers of green like moose,   will wear no antlers but change into butterfly robes. wonderuful comparison - the mightiest and clumisit, and and smallest and most delicate of creatures - twhat a rich imagiantion you have l Wilson’s warblers,  tiny flying grizzlies of willow thickets,  will catch more unwary  winged insects. great griz...wizz here and thumpting th sounds here ;} that's what i will call you ]Griss-wizz Spruce seed powered squirrels [powdxered squirlles? not sure about that image] will spill middens thick with spent cones, to autograph [great verb] their feeding scene. Red-backed voles avoiding owls, will tunnel under snow-- to forage on berries and carrion.  loevely And the porcupine’s taste for leaves, buds, twigs, ax handles and canoe paddles  salted by the sweat of human hands will grow. and grow and grow - in our imagination thanls to you -- wonderful The coldest tundra  savors new life;  like us, thriving  under winter wraps. Why didn;t I have this to read when i was a child in Winnipeg? IT would have given me hope! love this Joanne ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Click Here to SKIP Critiquing this Poem! Please Critique the above poem in this box. Give an Accurate and Helpful Critique by being as detailed as possible. The more accurate and clear you are with your critique, the more helpful you will be to the poet.	2004-03-07 13:12:06
Then I'll Dance With Dragonflies	Joanne M Uppendahl	you storyteller you! When caribou cross the mountains, when great bears disappear and salmon go to sea, I'll look for smaller lives right..like ant and flies and other small miracles.. and pause to listen by the wetland. Searching tall grass tundra and treetop, [love those l'ss i can hear swriing ] I'll poke within a willow, [can i come?} dip my thoughts beneath the snow. me too- [what a great thought] Going back to my old haunts I'll stalk the swallowtail,[ye yes] encounter voles, stop to study mosquitoes, set my seasons  by the exodus of warblers, [marvelous language here anthoughout this piece] and follow the tracks of wild hare. Then I'll dance with dragonflies, if I dare. you will i know you will! again - just lovely Joanne Copyright © February 2004 Joanne M Uppendahl ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Click Here to SK	2004-03-07 13:06:42
japanese verse 21 to 40 - Second Collection	Erzahl Leo M. Espino	Okay - i already commented on these but lost my comments - here are some more - plus my favorires as indicated. .  Two palms together       Touching the heart of Heaven     [waiting for manna]l “Water Lilies” 22.  Pond’s pretty maidens        Surrounded by keen suitors        Croaking at the stars a littel ambigous - it sounds like the water lillies are craching ” 23.  Crescent calms the sea          It softly combs the surface        Far from shore to shore “Old Age” 24.  When beauty is lost        When youth and strength are fading        Then wisdom is gained not always - som old people are really beautiful but not wise so young people are wise but not beautiful “Dawn” 25.  First sign of sunlight        Pouring in silent delight        Warm as morning smile nice “Camel” 26.  Down this barren land        Treks the gentle traveler        Carrying the hills CAMEL IS MY FAVORITE “ Will” 27.  Universal drive        To live free and to survive        Knows no boundaries good “Rose” 28.  Crimson as a wine          Filled in the glass of season        Drunk by its beauty nice\ “Breeze” 29.  Wind tickles the woods          As leaves giggle in pleasure        Echoing the bliss nice “Vulture” 30.  Vigilant villain        Vulgar in vandalizing        Vacant cadaver too much alliteration for me but other will like it “Twilight” 31.  After the great torch        Banished its scandalous flame        The sun [shied] away      nice “Chess” 32.  Defending the King        On this checkered arena        Queen gambits her might clever “Snow Cape” 33.  Marshmallow pillow        Descended from its haven        Nestling on soft ground Lovely - one of my favorites “Stargazer” 34.  Start staring the star        Startle to its starry starch        Starve its stark stardom too alliterative for me “Manger” 35.  In that borrowed crib        God offered His precious gift        Wrapped in swaddling clothes lovely “Ku Klux Klan” 36.  Known to keep kinship          Killer of kaleidoscope        Knights with kerosene too alliteretive again “Top” 37.  Ballerina girl        Elegantly spins her dance        Pleasing her master one wishes she would do it to please herself-but nice “Seahorse” 38.  An ocean stallion        Rides its coral chariot        Galloping the reefs lovely “Amnesia” 39.  Friday afternoon        We talked and shared together        I lost time again nice “Petals” 40.  Like a lovely bride        Blossom wears[her]ts splendid gown        With all purity nice good luck in getting this published. It would be good to have it illustrated in a gentle sof t ink	2004-03-07 12:54:50
Insects and Other Tiny Nations	Joanne M Uppendahl	Oh joanne i am crashing and the review i did of this marvelous poem is gone so let me t csects and Other Tiny Nations great title1 to silver, a little girl  floated away from Earth. [small girl-for the rhythm and assonance?} playing in the wind, caring for [family?]. Earthworms wiggled, black crickets chirped,  Oh janorange caterpillars crawled, green beetles ticked  on dancing leaves,  while yellow Monarchs and red dragonflies flew in dazzling displays. WONDERFUL nd when they all arose to where she waited, they told her tales of all that lived in air,  in dirt, in hives - of  hopes and tiny homes [great] sometimes poisoned - of  bodies pulled apart. [yes-that is what they would report] Though they understood  that they were often food  for frogs, birds and other tiny nations, they didn’t know why they were being stomped, swatted and pulled apart. [find a new way to say this here] As the child watched, a globe appeared;  like a magnet it drew them into a living sphere of insect races. [wonderful[] Then Grandmother Moon [too ordinary]molded them into a  glittering star, a gleaming phosphorous light. Now moths and bees and crickets lit the night and gleamed the sky with prayers and graces. yep- the just so story poet indeed that is how i will think of you -that and the star-poet great piece..sorry - lost the old reviewi	2004-03-07 12:43:23
japanese verse 40 (Petals)	Erzahl Leo M. Espino	Great valentine treat for someone special in your life, Erzahl....i know we are not supposed to use personification i this kind of poetry even if it is senyru ,,, but i think this one is crying for a pronoun: Blossom wears her spendid gown	2004-03-07 11:49:34
Dirt Devil	marilyn terwilleger	Dirt Devil Marilyn i already critiqued this marvelous poem and it got lost so i will try again before my computer crashes. Pelase excuse the typos Sizzling sun bears down on the etched earth disturbed only by a [-sporadic] zealous breeze.  if you get rifd of "sporadic" the lovely assonance of " zealous breeze will be even more powerful and i thkjnk it woul scan a little better  A bald eagle soars aloft, eyes in an aquiline head, vigilant for prey. [great visual] A taupe and ivory Antelope with pronged crown moseys across the tundra.  The only sound in this simple scene is the soft scruff of tumbleweed as it sweeps a path across the pallid plain. I can see this as a painting - wonderful work A surprise [-] Zephyr spawns an eddy of wizened soil. A staunch and jaunty dirt devil emerges.  He skips happily, whirls with abandon, spinning like a tiny twisting typhoon. love the personification of this dervish! Determined to excite a dirt blizzard with his tapered tail he gyrates and birls but begins to fizzle.[you have amazing z sounds in this piece]  His taut torso opens wide as he strives to stay alive, subdued his zeal returns to dust. His antics only a hazy memory in the wizard sun. great word play - visuals and story	2004-03-07 11:31:33
Falling	Jordan Brendez Bandojo	Jordan I already critique dhtis remarkable poem once but it seem sto have been lost. LEt me try again before my computer crashes The sun is innocent of  [-the] raindrops that fall from heavy clouds to  the raging [good a assonace with raindrops]ocean. Birds are unaware that their dung falls [on roof tops] when they're high above  misty clouds. Workers [are oblivious to ]  debris [that ] falls from buildings under construction.  Trees are unconscious that itheir] wilted leaves  fall to the mud. The [the bereaved wife does not feel] her tears as they fall [-from lonely eyes]. The flower's unaware that its pollen [-grains ]falls and  [wooing bees arrive]  to catch  each grain [this would make that remarkable thought even stronger] The Physics of free-falling bodies applies to every worldly thing but in the absence of science  my heart still falls hard for you.  wonderful ending which brings it all together.	2004-03-07 11:18:52
east ore	Erin E Roland	east ore Er1n, i already critique dhtis lovely poem once an dlost it so i will try to do it again before my computer crashes so please excuse my typos./ moonrise over the ridge first night alone under her light [real neat orphan rhyme] we will both be gone  tomorrow [mysterious and telling at the same time] I´ll be in John Day county [is there really a John day "county?" Should it perhaps be country?]o full of dust and old rocks off the roadside summer peaches Kimberly [love the way you personify these peachs by naming them on a separate line! nature´s gold [a little ordinary for this extrordinary piece] snatched  with only a ladder [great hard"a" assonance] oasis in a  scrubland of juniper and sage [lovely] sunbeaten  and white land of ministers, marshals, [-and] old men. You capture both the desolation and the wonder of the land with these last imags. Wonderful evocative writing.------------------------------------------------------------------------	2004-03-07 11:11:22
10:26 Revisited	Sandra J Kelley	Sandra I already critiqued this one once and it was smehow ost and now my computer is crashing so it will have to be brief but i wanted to let you know how much i like it 10:26 Revisited I can practicaly see it blinking on and off and that is why i would like to see the title just the numbers and in blue print. I know it is a not a digital clock but I still somehow see it blinking. . Blue black sheen of sky Hangs like a curtain around us [Pierced] by only a sprinkling Of stars.  {LOVELY}Grass under our feet Is cool but not yet damp. It too is a shade of black [love the idea of a 'shade' of black'] Here where there is so little  Light. Your hand warm Against my back is solid [amazing image to come out of nowhere=startling] The wind makes everything else  Unstable. [-And] again your hand Is the only warmth.  The clock In the heart of town just  Visible from the hilltop  Proclaims 10:26. [GREAT} A time That has not changed in years. Time stopped - for me reading this wonderful poem	2004-03-07 11:05:43
japanese verse 39 (Amnesia)	Erzahl Leo M. Espino	Ah, yes, and to have time diisappear as the result one person being fully present to another . Lovely senryu Friday afternoon We talked and shared together "I lost time again" wonderful and sensitive idea "I am not sure you need [shared together] except for the count. "Shared" implies with the other person - together in some way at least. I know I already critiqued this lovely time/space poem and I think yoi even responded - there seems to be something wrong with the server. t	2004-03-06 19:40:48
What Gives?	Michael J. Cluff	What Gives? [Good title] The uniform unvaries: I love the neoglism "unvaries" It makes me think of ovaries though -- but I am sure that is just me femanizing everything. the blue pinstripe[d] suit white long-sleeved shirt coral cufflinks black wingtips red, blue, white stripped tie [ah - the subtle demi-patriot - clever] etc. etc. etc. makes me think of the king in the King and I with all his excetra. I live that life lie in my secret soul rejoicing..... wonderful - brilliant ending mikey - "to lie in ones secret soul" is amazing made doubly amazing by the last word.	2004-02-29 11:32:02
I Have Memories	Sandra J Kelley	Sandra, I think "I have memories" is not a stong enough title for this piece. Ut makes it sound as if as if the piece were ordinary and not the deep and reflective - ironic and language rich poem it is. If you named it something from the poem - like Warm Flannel or even "Latex Memories" it might catch the readers imagination better. Have Memories I have memories of being alive GREAT fist line] of sunlight touching my skin [at the burning point] memories of cool water lapping [ankles as we stroll on the beach] arguing about latex [this would make the latex/lapping assonance stronger] memories of my heart beating [of] deep breathing and sweat other than that I remember nothing not the sound of your name or the stretch of my throat as I spoke it [GREAT} I do not remember the brush of your hand in my hair the warm flannel covering your chest the gentle suck of your teeth as your breath filled my ear the rythm we created [the] movement bodies entangled I do not remember Fantastic oxymoronic ending to a deeply moving and language rich piece.	2004-02-29 11:20:39
Archae	Regis L Chapman	I love the use of language in this poem. The assonance surrounds the mound of time and send us spinning through a surround of fled sparrows. Bravo, Regis. It is more about life I think - with death an assonic coda.	2004-02-28 17:16:10
A Passion For Senryu	Thomas Edward Wright	Clever, clever, respose to Msr. Cluff's senryu .. . so what we are doing is, sort of... reading between the lionize?	2004-02-28 11:21:13
Senryu 135	Michael J. Cluff	Great Senryu Mikey! Vivid and alive and in the moment. The details of the descriptions of dress make it shocking and dramatic .. We are having a reading on March 13th for Habitat for Humanity at BTTG. at 2 pm. Wanna come join us?	2004-02-26 11:49:26
The Band Leader’s Grandson Is Comatose	Thomas Edward Wright	What his brain was doing that night Was swell – incredible use of language You remember how that goes – A gong sounds – Later, your days are daze and filmy – ah, yes i remember it well - what an incredible powerful piece Upon entering the cranium (It isn’t rocket science, you’re aware of that) no - it isn't but OH the places u go ...further than rockets in terms of human adventure I think He sentenced that paragraph to death. So we parsed the mysterium out of it, Teased a crossword iotum, Scooped out the crimson squash, Grappled with the vascular demons, Left the bone flap in the freezer – Give it plenty of room to grow, Bring him back later, close the door. amazing Without the table of contents, he can’t find the hymn. Without the dice, the little metal car, the shoe – He moves onto the Jail square and waits for doubles. Just from the wrong roll of the dice -- yes....damn incredible poem	2004-02-23 18:37:35
Poem Title	Poet Name	Critique Given by Rachel F. Spinoza	Critique Date

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