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
The Elms of St Peter	Thomas Edward Wright	[I think they do too] all the leaves are gone and the sky is blue yes... but there will be more sisters rustling some day - if we just keep hoping and planting...i guesss..... marvelous piece, tomtom	2004-02-20 12:10:40
Winter Trees	marilyn terwilleger	lovely..... Here are a few suggestions re classic haiku This is an interesting article re givng haiku titles: http://members.tripod.com/~Startag/HkTitles.html Bare branches dancing Embrace as lovers wooing In orchestra wind The metaphoric language is lovely - especially "orchestra wind" and the count is perfect. In in traditional haiku there is an prejudice in favor of clear crisp description without any language devices - no rhyming, metaphors similes, assonance - etc. Of course modern American haiku sometimes uses these devices and I have no reason to think you are not modeling your poem in the manner of the modern western masters. Jus tot share -here is my favorite - the count is off because it is a translation of Basho Near the orchard rainwater is filling the dead cat's bowl	2004-02-19 22:19:34
These delicious aromas like foreign countries	hj elliot	These delicious aromas like foreign countries Wow.... Parisian bakeries..Prague sparrows dramp from a light rain... incense, tea ceremonies Llamas and lapis and Canadian snow - what a gloria munda your title is! Come back to bed skin smelling of coffee grounds and cigarette {the way injambent works I thought you said "cigarette arms" so maybe you need "smoke" after cigarette or a line break of maybe its me.. arms like orange rinds wrap themselves around me and I give in to these delicious aromas like foreign countries no concept of the currency accepted aha...yes.... I open to you as a window opens out onto rooftops a window does? Well, maybe in Prague or Brussles or something arms spread wide ready to take in the rush should I fall narrow cobblestone to catch me [ouch! vivid} while the streets are still with empty morning [or maybe "empty with morning"] The bed beckons, sheets [lie] devastated across the wise[clever of it - and you] mattress ripe with memories and I Shut the shutters that have let the cool smell of wet stone in this night [i feel cold!-excellent} from thunder like an [air-raid] over the city [thunder]that brought in the rain and the war between us ah yes...wonderful ending to a tactile poem which delivers all that the amazing title promises. welcome aboard!	2004-02-18 19:27:22
Since god left Chicago	hj elliot	-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Since god left Chicago He/she left? Without even saying good/god-bye? Very clever title which will catch the attention of even the most jaded poetry editor hi, HJ -- whoever you are - i think i am in love Jerusalem sweeps over my body like an old lover i know the feeling --love when that happens and tells me Israel can wait well, gosh isn't 5000 years enough - i mean - one gets tired after a few millenia Jesus has come and gone so they say - I've just missed him me too The revolution is over IT IS? Wow.... There are a couple of people i would like to see up against the wall and I must begin again this time alone darn...okay then... The veil is lifted and Yemen whispers in my ear I hear names of daughters and plagues far reaching but I will remember none of it [we never do - that's why nothing ever gets done] Not the burnt offerings nor the saffron sun and will reach for you again and again Moi? or G-d or perhaps just plain joy..anyway i really enjoyed the journey thanks "rachel"	2004-02-18 14:46:52
Closer to Far Away (edit)	Joanne M Uppendahl	until a rare gravitational lens nudged light tighter so it could be filmed love it! This is a better version. I guess I should have read it first. Lots of luck in its publication.	2004-02-18 10:12:53
Closer to Far Away	Joanne M Uppendahl	Closer to Far Away Great title Oddity of physics, [the most distant galaxy from earth] perhaps: the galaxy most distant from [Earth/] [is the word Earth - when used as a planet name -not capitalized? or is the lower case a poetic device here? was found by astronomers seeking to know when stars first began to glow.[this rhyme is a little too ordinary-perhaps somethinbg like "grow?"] The infant galaxy could not be glimpsed by potent telescopes until a rare gravitational lens nudged light tighter so it could be filmed. [lovely!] Now photographed: a spot ( . ) I love the SPOT visual in limitless sea in a room missing ceiling or walls moving in endless expanse flowing in bankless streams. live the idea of "bankless streams" Far from a point in space too tricky for our vision, we peer through Hubble’s eyes [YES-GREAT} to watch what may seen as subatomic particles by Someone c l o s e r I don't understand the reason for the spacing of "closer" perhaps end with the orphan rhyme -to the scene? Remarkable poem about a remarkable event. I am sure that the astronomy people will publish this one with pride. I have not been much on the scene lately . I hope all is well with you and your family. Best Rachel	2004-02-18 10:10:47
I am a lighthouse	marilyn terwilleger	Lovely, and filled with incredible images that make the lighthouse a strong beacon to guide the weary traveler indeed and work on several levels both literal and spiritual. This stanza: When your way is astray in raven tide I'll be your haven. If billowing waves beset and batter your bow and hope sways I will be your moon is my favorite for its rythmn and power. Not a hint of correction from this notorious pedant. Best wishes for its publication, Marilyn =Rachel	2004-02-18 10:00:56
A Late Afternoon Service	Thomas Edward Wright	Thom On the road again - birds and pews and miters grins and gasps and hums of hymns and the cat in the front row - grinning her grin yes it is so and up we go so many miles down..in the snow the snow the choral snow thanks for the memory Rachel the unrepentant	2004-02-17 15:47:20
Senyru 132	Michael J. Cluff	Very mystical Senyru, Mikie. Perfect form and lots to think about. How is the fire in Norco? Anywhere near the college? Hope all is well -- huggers-- R	2004-02-17 15:41:06
Life in a New Land April 1947 Haifa	Michael J. Cluff	It is good to see a poem of yours again here prof cluff. I like this poem because it addresses the land of Israel [inteersting to call this place, historically ancient Judea a "new" land" but I suppose that with the British Mandate in 1947 it was indeed a new time for the country. Life in a New Land April 1947 Haifa The laden fruit tree speaks its roots attached to mine the unseen link* [I think it scans better without this line which is understood] and then you would get an internal mine/time play on words until the time to unite is brought to blossom sometimes unfortunately by death, disease, dynamite or desiccation. good d alliteration but I would put death last in the list so it would be ascending Pan plays his pipe underneath the sapling smiling all the more. I like the way you have other creeds, "Pan" Yahweh" etc as a sort of correllary to the country becoming a Jewish state. Ties are timeless [nice assonance] when based not on bombastic beliefs, ballistics, bellicose boundaries ballistics/bellicuse is wonderful but neologisms in this Near East [not Middle East?} what is the illusion here? such as peaceful palazzos, plazas and patios good - plaza plazzos!! serene city squares tranquil towns nectar sweet persimmon philosophies I guess...sometimes...lovely thought panoply of this earth rising to the sky, Yahweh perhaps beyond.... homefully..to last...yes...from your pen to G-d's ear	2004-01-30 15:46:51
Porcelain Dolls	Debbie L Fischer	Nicly constructed poem. It really is sad that the girls got only silly breakable things and baby dolls while the boys got the creative toys. Things are changing though -- few enlightened parents make those kinds of distinctions these days.Great ironic ending!! Best Rachel	2004-01-25 21:13:26
Postcards to Eva	Jane A Day	California is the brown center of a sunflower drying after the briefest rain. And Jane Day is the best damn poet in the state and beyond a couple of suggestions 1. My mother once found us drowning in the [-huge, we know they are big]] heads of sunflowers-- the flowers’ thick stems and the silk from your mother’s corn choking us. Yellow rubbed into our mouths. Green marked our entire bodies. We were cousins. Weeds, blooms, and thistles tattooed the same strange patterns through our chests and along our arms. ahhhh lovely 2. You paint a baby’s rattle, faucets, swing sets, beards, and bread rising on a counter top. Beards on a counter top? Actually, I have had it happen - but it was weird Objects only and vivid color. You never use the brailled [nice foreshadowing]rise of oil paint. The flat shine of watercolor shapes your paintings. If I went deaf, would my poetry go to sound? wow great speculation 3. On Saturday, I washed my daughter’s hair in the kitchen sink just as Grandma washed ours in[our summers together]. [Your body and mine ]lifted and stretched along each side of the counter until our hair met and tangled in the drain of her double sink. You weren’t afraid of the sink even though your father had mistaken mop water for bath water when you were 3 months old. He cleaned you in Lysol until you were blind. 4. Are you coming for Christmas this year? I know it is only May but my mother wants to know. 5. I saw Grandmother last week when we went shopping for melons. Even the honeydew are too much for her now. She had a bridge tournament that Sunday (after Church) and wanted, no needed, to make a melon ball boat. She and Ethel lost badly and everyone avoided the cantaloupe. 6. Uncle Drew died, right after Halloween. Since he was my uncle and not yours, I didn’t bother to call. I think you only met him once or twice. The last time I saw him he was laid up in bed, smoking, saying, “This is medicine.” Gone on Codeine, refusing Morphine. 7. Come for the summer. It smells better here than it looks. Lemonade, mowed lawns, and jelly-sticky children await your nose. I miss you mainly in summer because you always got to the ice cream truck first and bought me red, white and blue dripping rockets. Do you remember color? 8. My dad is getting married again. Just the immediate family this time. My sisters are flying in from Houston. She seems nice although she likes dresses with flowers on them a bit too much. Remember, how much hair he had? It use to fall into our mouths when he would carry us piggy back. All gone. Now, we would only get a mouthful of skin. Salty and slick. 9. a Here’s a poem for you, Bzzzzzzz zzzzz zz the rub of a tapping foot against the floor bzzzzzz z zzzzzzzz z a stoppage of sound zzzz breath zz zzzzzzzzzz the shuffle of a newspaper zzzz leaves rustle or is it the beginning of stalking? bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz zzzzzz zz zz zzzzzzz z the smoosh of a tiny body breaking. 10. When first you moved to New York from California, I use to count the states between us and imagine what they felt like against your skin as you passed through them. Kansas, a wildfire, Texas, sandpaper, Louisiana, a damp tissue at the throat. Then, I realized you were never coming home to tell me Pennsylvania feels like grass and Maryland is sugar through the hands. I am still here so I’ll tell you California is the brown center of a sunflower drying after the briefest rain.	2004-01-23 16:52:05
Beautiful	madge B zaiko	Good. I'm glad its part of a larger work - because it is wonderful - and also because the title would not draw the eye of a publisher if it stood alone. I've always stumbled, drunk in the hope[-s] of love. ahhhhh...great beginning So many nights I fumbled[nice internal rhyme here] words into meaning; [meaning men would toss-this line is ambiguous and does not add much]. And it seems whatever I mean to say, What I wish for, Inside their hands, [is] lost. plaintive and original! But, still I want to hear: "Beautiful. You're so beautiful, and I understand you." great as a refrain - you might use it more in the poem Staring into reflection, I slide fingers over faults. Might be faults like cracks in the mirre- a little vague Tenderly embracing, Each and every one. Full of memory, My eyes fight their drowning. [great] Longing to erase these scars, I say: "Beautiful. You're so beautiful, and who cares if they understand you?" YES Plenty of faces brushing my temple. So many embraces that never were meant for- love. I wish someone could see me as: Beautiful. So Beautiful. And then I'd think that I was: Beautiful. So Beautiful. When did I forget that I am: Beautiful. So, Beautiful[?] perhaps end it something like: [Something that it is up to me and only me to understand] Twisting the refrain from looking for understanding and riding youself of the i/me questioners. Very nice - I would love to see the completed work	2004-01-15 11:38:06
The Apostrophe: Enos at the Bacchanalia in Cozumel	Thomas Edward Wright	What a pretty story with lots of succulent innuendo of baccananlian abandon i.e. When the moist clamshell’s disclosed, tight and wet inside, the oyster soft its hmmmm We strip the metaphor down to her most un-subtle bare maxima, minima, Oh, Thomas you spartan spartan master of languid language. I applaud you and award you a green laurel ripe from the academy, but tell me this isn't about football--tell me this is a pretty fable about orgies.	2004-01-10 11:51:45
An Old Man's Song On Christmas Eve	Rick Barnes	How lovely, Rick, especially the last stanza! A few suggestions": I have [nothing] but my memories This night to sing to me, Yet the song is sung by everyone Who once reached out to me. Nice beginning which enraptures us at once {Perhaps} So, I sing in praise of reaching There is an organization called REACH and so this is a little confusing I think And offer silent prayer[s] That my own reach may too extend Beyond my own affairs. Amen...That should be a universal prayer As the warmth of a distant fire Warms sea and earth and sand, The warmth of your touch does not [perhaps -" does not demand"-for the rythmn and an extra beat rhyme??] The presence of your hand. Best of the season and a happy new year, Rick	2004-01-07 11:19:44
Awaken	marilyn terwilleger	I don;'t know if it was a nightmare or a premonition but it makes a great poem I walked in shadows of coolness[. Many hued] flowers caressed my feet. Timid wind [lovely adj]played harp strings, strumming a soft sigh. I stepped upon a bridge that spanned opal waters and saw him walking toward me, an old friend, smiling, beckoning, "Come with me" he said holding out his thin pale hand. [I got a chill reading thiss] I touched his fingers [-with mine,] a cold chill splintered my spine.[WOW Dramatic] The gardens blush waned to gray,[another lovely transition] my delight gave into panic. Deep in hollows of consciousness came a voice that bellowed "You died years ago." A death march drummed inside my head, acid churned beneath my chest, flaming darts of fear stabbed my soul. My eyes lids fluttered as my being [struggled] to awaken was it a nightmare or a premonition? Reallly fine images in a fine narrative piece that takes us into dark passages and out again.	2004-01-06 10:11:36
japanese verse 35 (Manger)	Erzahl Leo M. Espino	Lovely in sentiment - perfect in count. Unusual subject for a "Japanese" verse - but that is what makes it extraordinary. Happy New year Ezrahl	2004-01-05 10:49:17
Rural Shindig	Jordan Brendez Bandojo	Rural Shindig Like that title although the word "shindig" would be enough as most "shindigs" are pretty rural Like a lady in full sheen, The party reeked with lavish revel interesting use of words - that expression lady in "full sheen" captures a lot about the plight of these women Sly spongers, prickly-chinned hangers-on These must be they guys, but you need a better transition In din had arrived pretty early. perhaps "had arrived early in the din..." Wily gate-crashers, dim-witted [scarecrows] Wearing collar buttons, mauve cravats, mauve cravats? Really? They seemed in a promenade When the news ran like electric shock. good foreshadowing Frolic wham reverberated Traffic bustled In the salon of wide staircase taffic in the salon? people traffic? Green banistered, Chinese porcelain brocaded Frame carved in Renaissance fashion, Chandeliers glinted [down on]bulging eyes Orchestra wafted in the air With the tinkle of silver and china, Wenches [pretty dismissive to women term!] in pristine chic Crones in straggly hair [Joined the jovial festivity.] Doesn not sound too rural - unless it is perhapos a brothel? interesting piece, Jordan	2004-01-04 11:30:00
Caroling	marilyn terwilleger	You capture a time and place wonderfully well. The rhymes work well. Lots of detail make this a delightful piece. I especially like the last couplet. Best Rachel	2004-01-04 10:40:31
cleansing	Sandra J Kelley	Really interesting theme and lovely use of language carries us through this piece with intense interest. cleansing [good descriptive title] She stands over a barrel, the wind touching her hair, [we don't need comma here] at dusk. Sparks rise in the air in front of her as one by one she removes Sandra..although "remove" is a lovely word here it is a little distracting as it seems that the pages are not attached - perhaps something meaning "to tear or rip?" the pages and feeds them to the flames. It [is] This would be even more powerful if you go rid of "seems and "like" and made it stand on its own Sacred []- a ritual of cleansing. Yet, it is only a diary; cheap spiral bound paper and blue ink. She reads words in the fire before they are consumed. WONDERFUL Never her whole life, only the fragments she is left with. perhaps something like: she is left with only fragments or only the fragments left her [to solve ending a thought with a preposition] She wipes tears of smoke or of memory from her eyes overseeing the burning. lovely! Miserly, [great word choice]she doles out the pages one by one, as each is touched by flame, starts to curl then flames [flame/s is used twice here - perhaps another word?} to ash. Not having counted those destroyed, she has no way of knowing how few [are left]. Excellent poem which reaches deep into us with fresh language and dramatic mystery. please excuse my nit picking Best, Rachel	2004-01-04 10:37:39
The Blizzard (A Story Poem)	Drenda D. Cooper	He hunted alone and only with bow and arrow. In his haste this day he had not waited for the latest on the weather. Good A o assonance in this lovely opening With light feather steps he followed fresh deer tracks and "f" alliteration here ...... His last thoughts likely were of warmth, of hearth, and loved ones at home. Yes...but thinks nothing of wanting to take such a beautiful life...good irony and excellent ending.	2004-01-04 10:25:34
Life at ThePoeticLink	Jordan Brendez Bandojo	Hey - thanks for the mention Jordan! And what a clever poem this is - I love the fresh language like" seeping sinew ballpoints" and "void pixel!" Welcome back and I hope you stay with us this time Best, Rachel	2004-01-03 15:50:08
Ice Daggers	marilyn terwilleger	This is very lovely and descriptive. Takes me back to my Winnipeg days. The only thing that makes it not a perfect haiku - if haiuku is your intention -is the atribution of personification in "willingly" as we do not really know the intention of a drop of melting snow and for the same reason - "eager" for the sod. In haiku - one allows the action of nature herself to make the connection human life and emotions.	2004-01-03 15:28:42
A Failure To	Thomas Edward Wright	Failure To communicate with the universal fire of eros? Perhaps - but those of us living simply and without that kind of passion envy him and earnestly applaud you a knife wound so large my soul fell out [brilliant thought]upon the North Dakota snow cold and white a pale youthful skin the inevitable blood whose red stains his pulling me fast away from the malling [the old Madding crowd - now in the mall? -clever and cleverer] And the air we’d share Had I lived to breathe. ahhhhh.......lost love ...shades of R and J --but as Oscar observed - we do all kill the thing we love. And I think about why we failed. About how he failed. And as they place me in my tomb, I wonder just who failed whom, more. right...we always wonder that ...brilliant as usual	2004-01-03 15:00:51
MAN-HATER	April Rose Ochinang Claessens	The title "tells" too much I think Interesting tale. She came home with her dress no different from the kitchen rags; blood flowed from her innocence as tears that obscured her confused eyes trickled down her cheeks. lots of mixed metaphors and reaching for allusion and language here It would be more effective to have just one poetic device per stanza. The doll in her hand was crying as she let it fall to the ground, then she herself fell down, probably from exhaustion. Or from hopelessness, perhaps? perhaps - but perhaps you should let us see her fall instead of speculate on her motivation Dear God, she was too young to understand. Are any of us old enough to understand? When she grew up she played with toy guns when she grew up? And she played with no one else but her shadow who did all that she pleased. why is she "playing so much as a grown up?" When she read books she befriended Artemis but she refused to shake hands with Eros; she was the only one whose knees did not tremble for Adonis but instead she adored Venus and worshipped Galatea. The only one? May people see beyond phycial stength and beauty? It was Apollo who gave her the Pen but it was the Muses she called for to inspire her in writing poetry which crowned her with laurels. How did he "give her the pen?" Then it was time to wear the shroud. To say her final adieu; and her brown box was lowered to the earth's dermis. just to the "demis?" "Here lies she who drank contempt for Dionysus' disciples." Sad ending. Tyoo bad the persona let the experience destroy her.	2004-01-03 14:32:22
As to the Site of the Preservation of Memories	Thomas Edward Wright	As beautiful and poignant a tribute as I have ever read. As we say, "May she rest in peace in the Garden of Eden and may her name be for a blessing." I can hear even her raspberries whimper. And her dead dogs whine. Incredible beginning which pulls us in with two hands She’s even got Caller-ID and a dead-bolt. And yet she let it in like it were a pleasant young man with cropped hair and a sweet blue suit handing out pamphlets. amazing personification “Mop up your own messes.” yes....excellent advice for living a good life So we’re left with the 18 by 24 or the 24 by 36. We splurge and agree on the large one. Marble. And the dates. the genius of this poem is in the details. She reminded me as I left for the car: “I just want to make this as easy as possible for your father.” Jesus wept with me. The winds of November came early this year. The dog is gone, the berries picked for the last time. But through us she’ll live on – in here. yes, in there Thank you Thomas and peace and healing to you and your family in the New Year hugs, Rachel	2004-01-02 09:58:28
Tinkerbell was a Bitch	madge B zaiko	What a pleasure this one was to read. I can't imagine anyone stopping in the middle of it. They told me I was supposed to be beautiful, darling, and so I was. Love it! Subtle in its opening message - luscious in language I laughed generously [great modifier here] at life, I worked hard, GOD I’ve tried and tried and tried....... My pampered [innocence Am. sp] I kept to slide over my eyes time and again So, I wouldn’t see the feeding tongue of death... a little over the top here - perhaps a more subtle word for "death" I kept these smiles REAL “LOVE” Always saw the prism in the raindrop GREAT image~! I will have to steal it to use in dinner conversation - but not without attribution Always saw the heart inside the man. AND THIS IS WHERE I AM!!!!!!!!!!! That couplete is not as strong and original as the other parts of the poem - Yeah, pass me another drink, hon. Stick another prick in my path, “Love” WOWEE!! GREAT I’ll rake through them and stagger on back. JUST FOR YOU.... Just for you. They taught me about sweet words spoken, About dreams and children ... and time oh ETERNITY! They whispered it like a trembling secret I had to find. It was supposed to be there, Darling, “If I followed my heart” But, Tinkerbell was a bitch; So, I’ve made a fresh start. incredible fresh thought What?! It’s not enough LOVE, is it? . You stretch those tangling fingers right through my will to make me remember him !!! love it AND I DO!!! OH yeah, “Love”... Just for you. Just for you. great ending to a powerful poem which capture the imagination and the energy of relationships and self-knowledge	2003-12-27 13:05:17
Goblet	C Arrownut	WOW! Powerful and alive, this one captures the way crass commercialism ruins the celebraation of holidays better than anything I have ever read on the subject It smashes, like high heels and Nikes, into my face and consciousness. amazing visual! There is so much going on in this piece, but it all works My shopping wall collapses and I escape to the exit scurrying far from the oblivious, obsessive maul. great ending - great pun!	2003-12-23 08:35:20
The Murder of Emily Dickenson	C Arrownut	Love this parody of one of my favorite poems. remembered myself playing at recess in the ring. I remembered daffodils and tulips. I remembered the setting sun That stanza is a little weaker than the other gems as it is too much like her actual language wile it does not contain the caustic sentiments that make the parody so clever in the other stanzas. I first surmised paper and pen moved toward recovery. Lovely ending which captures the spirit of Miss Em. - The idea of a "corner in the ground" is so chilling it might have been written by the Belle of Amhurst herself." Fine Work, C.	2003-12-15 10:46:23
japanese verse 33 (Snow Capes)	Erzahl Leo M. Espino	--- I get the metaphor and also the cleverness of the title -caps/capes but we have a wee agreement problem Marshmallow pillows [plural} Descended from its [singular]haven Nestling on soft ground This is perfect haiku in every other way Erzhal - it simply decribes and we draw our own beautiful pictures - and the season is clear. hank you	2003-12-10 19:31:29
No Use Trying to Forget	madge B zaiko	How lovely - this poem resonates with presence and luscious language with assonant vowels. It is both dramatic and gentle - Wonderful piece! No Use Trying to Forget Good title - invites us into the story Old wounds break open. ah, yes I heard the familar knock on the wall of my heart and [set?} stone there to block [excellent visual] but, nice enjambment Old wounds break open. good soft refrain They sting [at] first Like a wasp [as a wasp will -for more alliteration?] and swell I swallowed all my dreams like ice [wonderful analogy! We can feel the close throated agony of it!} and closed my eyes praying they would go down but, Old wounds break open. ah...yes...and irritate as they go down! They won't let me breathe Unless I talk [perhaps speak?] Spitting out the hopes I tried to block Until visions of him Spin around the room His arms like spider webs His heart; my tomb And all I want to do is rest... wonderful magical visual! Old wounds break open. No use trying to forget. No. No use at all! Welcome Marge - Yours is an extraordinary and brilliant voice.	2003-12-10 11:35:55
The File	C Arrownut	Right...clever and metaphor rich this one cuts to the marrow - I remember a time when the files were made public and some my fiends wrote in to get theirs and were devistated to learn there was no file on them at all! So where have you been? We will be at BtTG until further notice.	2003-12-05 12:18:26
Tsa-ga-gla-tal	Joanne M Uppendahl	Really lovely, Joanne another fine tribute to the Yakima people. Tsa-ga-gla-tal I love the title as it forces us to move our mouth into these glottal stops [sorry - I can't resist a pun] in the wonderful fresh tones of the language Full Beaver Moon floats low in cobalt[one of those adjective overused in poetry -find a fresher word here] sky, face pressed close neat image - lighting a path into the woods. ahhhh A raccoon of massive size emerges, [A massive Raccoon ]would be more economical unless there is something you are doing with "size" tht I am not getting . Size/emerges is too subtle in soundy for me to justify it for the sake of assonance and the orphan rhyme of size/scrutinize is too ogden-nashy for a poem of this seriousnes I think lifts her head to scrutinize, cheeks puffed with food. [I thik we know it is with food - but if you want to fill her mouth how about the specific kind of food? Ever vigilant, she dances toward me, a sturdy shape on nimble feet. lovely! The dance of the Raccoon Her head inclines as if to gloat, “I‘m wise to you!” [love it] Soon she'll sleep wrapped in thick winter coat, safe in her den. She'll watch from dreams then. This works wonderfully well and an end rhyme spectacular ending - I am so sorry to make all these nit picky suggestions to what is already a fine piece but I think this one can be make tighter and a little more visual for the most effect Best Rachel	2003-12-01 09:58:55
Border Clash	Thomas Edward Wright	You ’re Back! OH frabjous day! Calloo Callay! Northward we run Through and away from [yes--- sing it ! fiddle us down and up and in ] Fast and sleek in the Maroon coupe - The stark black earth, naked, somber as [As anything we can imagine -- sans gin] Wild turkeys [okay or we can drink wild turkey]stalk row upon row of once tall corn Past the last half acre of brown beans Over a modest river bridged long ago Iowa, your silo studded horizon mesmerizes Iowa, Ohio, Idaho too While November, hung-over Pregnant with her first snow,[I would KILL to have Written that phrase] threatens. On toward home. How fine, how proud, how safe that first broad lake How fine how proud that metaphor –[but then , I never met a phor I didn’t like]simile This shallow valley, her wooded hills make us feel. The shame, with the cloud deck, lifts slightly. Gold scarves wave to an old wind, an old friend. Yes yes – what a grand and noble flock of wheat The blood of war dries slowly. Scars repair; yet remain and remind. Yes – especially when pointed out with such skill Excellent piece – great ending - welcome home	2003-11-18 11:30:41
Gerald O'Reilly	Leo Wilder	Hi, Leo The rhythms of this remarkable piece remind me of the Beatles song ,Elinor Rigby," I am chilled by that as I find my self humming: Gerald O'Reilly fondles himself as he lies in the dark on his bed, gun to his head, but the sentiment is much more sinister and you capture the evil in this haunting exploration of exploitation of children. There are a lot of reason why this is a brilliant passage not the smallest of which is the the use of the odd name “Loquacious ” that a smaller sin, “talkativeness” which seems a turning away –the realization of the real deeply sinister and pathological nature of the persona. Excellent, and powerful indictment of those who are in a position of power and use that power to hurt the most vulnerable among us. Best Rachel	2003-11-15 10:45:37
Forever Daddy	Jordan Brendez Bandojo	What a wonderful tribute to a father. As an adult writing for a father - the use of the word "Daddy" is complelling and indicates a strong and abiding love since childhood. One, two, three, four, five,... I tried counting the stars above But they clustered in zillion[s] "Daddy, their number I couldn't reckon!" Like the untiring efforts you exert for me I [became] a man of principle and discipline. fine beginning, Jordan I was once equipped with [-a] Sonar, I tried determining the Pacific's depth But it's unfathomable,[good ocean reference-clever!] "Daddy, its [depth- or another word - bottom is odd here-especially in the simile] is beyond measure!" Like the paternal love you bestow on me. I was once a capricious dreamer, I yearned [to] fly Like a bird gliding from afar While zephyr's [blow] across the azure sky. Ah, yes, I did soar! You gave me wings Your wisdom levitates me into a lofty seat of understanding. good stanza! I was once a merchant, searching for fine pearls Risking my life [in] unknown places[,] like a vagabond, And at last, I've found the place where fine pearls are treasured In your heart, dignity and heroism of an ideal father reside [-in quintessence -overwriting in that stilted word]. My childhood flashes back When we were flying a kite In the verdant [needs noun here]fraught with delight. [nice oprphan rhyme] "My child, hold the string tightly so it won't get lost out of sight!" You uttered [bravely}[but why is it brave to say that? And you know, [Daddy]? The kite is still flying![wonderful line!} Your nobility and greatness hold its string. [-Now,] I grew up With [the] virtue you molded, my armor I learned to take up the gauntlet, [to] delve into the world Prepared as a [-militant] soldier in a battle With wisdom you imparted, my helmet. Now, let me tell you, Daddy I may be ignorant of the world[- around me] Yet one thing I'm sure I know You do love me and I love you Forever long. Forever long is a nice phrase to end this poem. I think the last stanza is not as image rich as the rest but I am sure that it captures real feelings and that is reeason enough. What a lucky man you are to have such a father. Best Rachel	2003-11-07 13:44:56
Role Model	Joanne M Uppendahl	Oh...well, I read the new version fist, so let me compare them... After the Storm better title Today the rain calls to me, blowing leaves, squalling sideways tears. I like the present tense a lot better yes – I makes it more active Spent flowers bent in mourning ricochet off the porch, pots tumble-- no sturdiness left in them. I like this version of the sturdiness better too--- flows better as an image How free these fierce gestures, the giving up of what has been, the leaning into what [will be I think]. Afterward, a gleaming garden spider bobbles in her web and wisely begins to weave anew. I would just lose the adjective. Interesting to see the development of this poem. Best Roni	2003-11-07 13:29:58
Kite	Jordan Brendez Bandojo	Zephyr blows barely Doughty dreamer dares to soar With flying colors It is definitive of a zephyer to blow lightly but "barely' is an amazing new way to descibe that action. I like the way the poem personifies the kite. "doughty" is a word so archaic that it seems placed there for the assonace and sort of stops me Flying colors! Wonderful This piece has real potential Jordan Best, Rachel	2003-11-07 13:20:43
japanese verse 29 (Breeze)	Erzahl Leo M. Espino	Wind tickles the woods As leaves giggle in pleasure Echoing the bliss What a wonderful light and "breezy" poem - echoing the bliss - is a magnificent phrase and we can see the season arriving in a bright peasurable piece. Thank you for another excellent poem Erzahl. The "bliss" is also evocative of a higher power and so this piece connects us to nature the kind of spiritual way that is the intention of these forms. Best, Rachel	2003-11-07 13:05:16
After the Storm	Joanne M Uppendahl	Penelope in the garden. Yes..we build and build anew. Another fine lesson in living beautifully crafted. Today the rain calls to me, blowing leaves, squalling sideways tears. love that image of sideways tears Spent flowers bent in mourning[wonderful] ricochet off the porch, pots tumble-- no sturdiness left in them. [as we all sometimes feel, yes] How free these fierce gestures, the giving up of what has been, the leaning into what ]perhaps -what will be?" for the parallism?. Afterward, a gleaming garden spider bobbles in her web and [wisely I think the adjective"wisely' explains too much - just let the action speak] begins to weave anew. Yes -- we go one -= we do go on Thank you Joanne.	2003-11-07 12:26:05
Past	marilyn terwilleger	The past never passes [wonderful world play] it lurks patiently until haunted by the mind (fresh vision in an amazing leap of metaphor] ”Comforters”-for a hint of Job?} say "This too will pass" but waves of memories catch cobwebbed corners clutching [great alliteration] them [yes – that is how we keep them with us I think] close to consciousness. The past remains present, lest I forget the comfort of your arms Indeed – that is how love triumphs over death… What an extraordinarily trimphant tribute. - Best, Rachel	2003-11-07 11:48:55
japanese verse 28 (Rose)	Erzahl Leo M. Espino	There have been many poems written in praise of the rose - but yours' managed to capture a new vision and that in itself an accomplishement, Erzahl. Crimson [one of my favorite words] as a wine Filled in the glass of season[great metaphoric leap] Drunk by its beauty Drunk by its own beauty? WONDERFUL The wine is a fine analogy. In this case, a rose is more than a rose and might well be a rose'.	2003-11-07 11:38:48
From Night to Morning	marilyn terwilleger	Just a thought – but what a lovely thought When heaven's web spins Luna's soft galaxy hands Weave a star bright path Genteel, soft a and e syllables make this poem flow gently . Starlight The depth of her touch gives Glimmer to the Milky Way That something outside the Milky Way – heaven personified –is what is Glimmering is an amazing thought As Aurora creeps above Mountaintops sun's zenith Warms and illumes the day Indeed. This is what fine poetry does – soothes us into a dream-like reverie No suggestions for change in this fine piece. Thanks, Marilyn	2003-11-07 11:34:38
In Search Of The God Particle	Drenda D. Cooper	Great quote with which to begin this piece. It serves well as a coda and does not intrude or interpret as epigrams are wont to do. Physicists' minds flex and spew Complex theories of flux. Good use of X the hardest letter of the alphabet with which to assonate. And flex and spew they do! From realms of the unseen Highly [I think it would flow better if you drop “Highly’ imaginative possibilities Step up to mathematical probabilities Into incomprehensible equations, akin To mystical, for those who think Inside the box of three-dimensional. Yes – that is a good observation and a skillful use of language Giant accelerators smash particles Into waves, as great minds hover [-over] [hover, hoping… would be Better for the assonance I think and would lead more smoothly to the internal rhyme with “uncover” and hover already suggests “over” Hoping to uncover miniscule articles Of their faith. A few, highly esteemed, Have deemed the most fundamental [great rhyme with esteemed/deemed] to be 'Higgs boson,' the ultimate source; Designated by some to be 'divine', The reason that matter has weight. Unready, yet, to let go of the past, Skeptics hold their breath Hmmm “Skeptics” is plural so it would be more that one breath to hold But “hold their breaths” is clearly wrong so while I see a problem I am clueless as to a suggestion to fix it…. and wait. Unable to embrace new paradigms That include non-matter, [line break]they need pictures; Concrete proof of bizarre conjectures. For fellow scientists the need arises From competition for the Nobel prizes.[nice orphan rhyme] So stretches this search into the sublime.{LOVELY!} To the brilliant few who remain on course The 'Higgs' will become defined, confined; No longer [divine], just the smallest thus far To take its place in proper perspective, Reflective in the continuum of space-time. For physicists, once more, will push the envelope; Perhaps ”Stuff” instead of “bend” to carry on the envelope metaphor? I know that would mess up the bend/end rhyme though – so perhaps not. …thought into understanding; destined to grope For the core of that which has no beginning, no end. Excellent thought provoking and beautifully written poem.	2003-11-07 11:11:06
Clouds and Curtains	Mark D. Kilburn	Clouds and Curtains This is an interesting title. It leads us into the poem with a philosophical dichotomy as we are drawn to consider the differences between a cloud cover and a curtain - re questions of - mortality these are soft and subtle allusions. That long back [do you mean "black" cloud or is this a shrouded background here?} cloud or curtain that engulfs us all in fates time is resting on my horizon [a personal horizon! Fascinating!} ["It is a vulture" -sometimes metaphors are more powerful than similes] shadowing my path and future, camouflaging my positives while basking [great verb choice!}in my doubt, sapping my strength and fogging my mind like the [medicines?} I take, they work fifty percent of the time, great odds in Vegas. I don’t stare at the curtain, just feel it out there lurking like some great Hollywood storm, [a fake storm..wow] erupting on cue, [ GREAT] to scare me off my path. When courage is needed I often steal it [wonderful surprising thought] from the elderly and tenderly young victims who so bravely face the worst [-that’s out there], losing in the end but always smiling… I steal their omnipotent courage and get ready for my next shot. Very painful and sensitive writing which tells a powerful poignant tale The cloud or curtain could be vultures massing [amazing visual] more trance than thought to make you accepting, keep you in bed a little longer each day; # [stazna break ] we have to feel bad before we can feel good. Sunshine still clears the mind if only [briefly], still a blessing and gratitude a key.[wonderful] You quickly gather your positives and absorb moments of focus like the sun’s warmth. A magnet equaling trust which is all we have to keep curtains of vultures away[great visual] from our horizons as long as possible- I take my shot and pills… Fine, poignant and well written piece.If it is autobiographical I wish you the best. Rachel	2003-11-07 10:56:27
Patched to Tapestry	Darren J Ledbetter	Patched to Tapestry [wonderful title - trips off the tongue and makes it move in an elegant tapping against the palate] I've burned all bridges in memory For the wrath I wait to suffer My past keeps chasing ahead to where all my dreams have slept Interesting to suggest that the past - can race ahead - that raises all kinds of spacial questions When sleep offers a peak I forget every wish [I've] heard from and grasp the nearest shreds my nightmares left behind ah....very dramatic! Now remembered less in vision all my patches to parades become less in visioned What happened to the "I" persective here? The little tapestry I have was still to much to carry for my unbarring [? I don't know this word} race against all that memory fails to do. I really like the ideas and perceptions in this really original piece. Thanks, Rachel	2003-11-05 16:41:20
Two Diamantes	Joanne M Uppendahl	Yep, you have the style down and you have managed to use light and fluffy voewls for the first piece: Nimbus, cumulus, flurry, blizzard and hard consonant building blocks for the second Summit, pinnacle, firmament, skyscape and to end this hard strong poem in the clouds is a touch of erotic genius to add a touch of of your own talents to this sometimes elusive form.	2003-11-05 11:13:12
Mother and Child	Jordan Brendez Bandojo	To her pure bosom Lullabies cherubic tot Cradling the heaven Lovely, Jordan - the thought is brilliant but the syntax is a little off in the second line. Really good form in this evocative senyru best Rachel	2003-11-03 12:30:21
The Road to Knowledge	C Arrownut	The Road to Knowledge [nice sardonic title] Key Logger lets him lurk way beyond the shadows long after the naked eye ends.(great allusion] Like a Silent Deploy, the Lover Spy follows her steps["steps" is a little misleading - but I guess that adds to the mystery of the piece and the "stalker" theme]to the bank where she tallies house payment, car loan, wireless … even booze and weed allotments. [cool] makes me afraid to go on-line! This Specter not-so-Softly [okay okay I get it] :}seethes as he detects her drooling jaunt through the land of the biggest, picturesque pricks. So she is doing some "surfing" of her own, eh? Finally his “little” secret,[poor guys is not majectically endowed, eh? A "little" compensation going on here"] satirized to his boss via instant messenger, [What a JERK}trips the thin wires to his detonator and E-Blaster, propelling him out of his chair through the doorways between their offices where he crushes her knuckles. oh oh ...virtual world meets real world in one fell swoop - Clever and well done piece!	2003-11-01 13:05:19
Origin	C Arrownut	Yes, for the most part the idea and images come together wonderfully well. Origin [good evocative title] From the land, the island looks impenetrable with lush green growth, the freshest dawn [great enjambment here and luscious vowels throughout of an idea. One end tapers to a fine point like a serpent, then steadily expands until the orange bridge of established beliefs mars this view of nature. [extradorinary metaphor] Below the steel beast, [the golden gate?]" stretching from one bank high above the island and on to the other shore, in one spot on the river’s edge —nearly imperceptible— [if it is the GG bridge it loses something at a literal level here as the bridge ends on the SF side of the bay [not river] and if it is not the GG perhaps it could be another color so we will not get misdirected? high weeds unexpectedly yield to white sand forming a mouth into the unknown. [a sleeping dragon to explore philosophicaly! Wonderful	2003-10-24 10:39:32
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