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Poem TitlePoet NameCritique Given by Rachel F. SpinozaCritique Date
japanese verse 27 (Will)Erzahl Leo M. EspinoAh yes. Universal indeed. If you switch "survive" and "live free" then the list order might be better - one must after all survive in in order to be able to live free and you would place the rhyme in the middle of line 2 where it would be softer. 2003-10-21 16:29:55
Riversmarilyn terwillegerwould it ruin the deep introspection of this piece to have it read something like: rivers flow beyond time's never motionless sand alpha omega just for the structure?2003-10-21 16:25:11
For The Sake Of All Lovers Lost To ThisRick BarnesWhat a wonderful love song! It doesn’t [-only] come down to you and [me] There are violins guiding our every move [what a lovely thought] And the aroma of myths we live by [fills]-goes back to the singular "aroma"] our lungs in passionate breaths We have no choice but to breathe.[ah, yes, as delicious a description of our own powerlessness against forces of the universe as I have ever read. Oh, how I wish I believed This was all conceived [nice internal rhyme} In the genius of our two hearts. [wonderful wistful longing] Oh, how I wish our fate belonged, If only in part, To the granting of wishes And the power of desire. [ah, yes] That just this once, For the sake of all lovers lost to this, Since first [-four] lips created a kiss, There could burn such a fire With such passionate force That our love [becomes] flame And our souls be the source. Incredible poem Rick - one of your best - fluid and luscious, gently off -rhyming and wise. 2003-10-21 10:28:35
Droughtmarilyn terwillegerLovely sounds and rhythms make this poem "crackle" with a sort of dry splendor in the grass. Ecru grass crackles neath [using "under" may be a syllable too long but it might still be a little better than the archaic use of "neath'] my feet arid desolation saddens the green Where gardens smiled "saddens the green" is a magnificent expression. Your vowels flow in this poem - a sort of soft undercoat to the formal cadence. A ruthless sun suspended in cloudless sky scorches earth as weeds Wilt in shapeless ruin Personification at its best - here and throughout this piece! Water robbing winds moan amidst leaves as the rosy blush Of life flees I love the way you engage all our senses Ebon and ocher pansy faces frown at the Danu of death, roots grab the Glebe with idle grit wonderful luscious, fresh words! "Idle grit" is marvelous Peachy poppies with hunched backs bear down to yield birth of their seeds To an expectant garden If you find another word for "peachy" this line alone would be worthy of a national prize. Marigolds still standing stare skyward defying Helios with his inflamed ire. Scourged by drought use of soft and hard I sounds: Marigolds/defying/Helios/skyward/ inflamed/ire is brilliant here The ravaged ground splits and cracks as my barren herbage feebly awaits Winter's cape of snow As lovely as the last line is -- I wish it were something more liquid than snow. Something that seeps into the ground and feels really really wet in a way that snow does not quite capture. This is a major acheivment of a poem Marilyn. Brava. 2003-10-18 10:44:47
Travel AgendaC ArrownutWhat an amazing image-rich piece. I like the Ibsen epigram and way this poem axamines the nature of evil and expands the concept to encompass a danger to the solar system itself. What a powerful protagonist is sitting there polishing an AF- 47! remembering the flight like so many before a little squeaky gramatically - know it is awkward to say Remembering the flight as many before her had but perhaps you can come up with something smoother that still fits the meaning from the coldest spot in her [her own solar system! how grand} solar system Kuiper’s Belt where scattered shards of Primordial Material protected from change due to a perpetual frost orbited at the outer extremes near Pluto in the form they’d acquired at their initial formation from this frigid zone of the Solar System Neptune also the sea god plunged a shard of the Big Bang away from the corruption in Hades at the speed of lightning [interesting construction!] so fast she easily dodged the grip of Uranus keeper of the sky for his fellow Olympians barely remembered Saturn a pagan holiday once celebrated during Christmas Season escaped the powerful Jupiter whose mistresses she scorned (they’d fallen under his spell) a rush toward Mars her war god who prodded her into the fervor of a Dionysian frenzy WOWEE! accelerating past Venus and her renouncement of goodness only one more god to elude {THIS IS A GREAT SLOGAN for the piece!} after circumventing the cunning wit of Mercury she shone bright scarlet another satan aloft as she neared the surreal Sun that eroded her mask of dust and gas shot her into a violent orbit her mask shot her???? where hell devoured her very elements with each journey each journey - is marvelous as it assumes a continum in hell where things are repeated over and over in a Sysiphisan frenzy. Dramatic and powerful piece and I like the planets oribiting around the stanza too. 2003-10-17 12:09:57
R&RJeff GreenAh, yes .... R and R between cannon blasts and across centuries. Love it. Great great statement 2003-10-14 10:19:58
UntitledClaire H. CurrierHi Claire - you know me - I am always honest! When wrinkles are joined Your eyes still shining brightly Peace, love, joy remains This has elements of haiku and seynru in that it followed the haiku format but it seems to be about a person and the conclusions about the person are subjective and observed. Lovely sentiment and beautiful piece. When wrinkles are joined [joined how? Together? this is a little obtuse for me] The second stanza is lovely and the third is a nice conclusion and makes the requisite jump in meanning demanded of this form of poetry. The part I love best is the way you use the word "joined" in the first line and "joy" in the last - which on a linguistic level is wonderful even though I am a little confused about the meaning of the first line. All in all a wonderful first effort! Keep it up Best Rachel 2003-10-07 20:02:51
StrappedThomas H. SmihulaAh, yes perhaps it is love itself that keeps us "strapped to the mast" and "grounded" but what a pretty cost it is! Splendid poem, Tom. It is about time one of yours got to the top of my critiquing list. When [perhaps "my eyes"- to bring us right in?] eyes were closed I felt sensation as the wind carried me to new heights above the deck and in my nest now Strapped to the Mast... fine strong chorus Lashed to yonder yard arms lips tipped with thoughts of salt [interesting ] cheeks singe[d] with the heat of sunlight adrift on a sea of fury [good strong metaphor] I venture on Embraced in a mist from Aphrodite past the throne of Neptune [nice classical sea references] into the calming waters next to the isle of wonders I journey on [I like the subtley changing refrain I clench the fist of thunder {WOW} sail with the Flying Dutchman drop into a massive cyclone [powerful writing here} engulfed by swirling waters I continue on Strapped to this Mast Thrown, bounded by the abyss fathoming the sea I emerge, rise up from the depths to the surface once more In search this becomes more and more powerful as the poem continues. It is a really epic poem Will the albatross fly above find a resting place upon this shoulder use it as a nesting sanctuary In need Must be a really broad shoulder indeed! Splendid image, Tom Alas the thoughts, drained except for one that has bound me to this yardarm Love... Yes, Love, that powerful anchor which keeps us home [and also keeps us sane] wonderful piece - epic in it story, splendid in language - hope you wil come to join us again some Wed. soon. Best "Rachel" 2003-10-07 10:14:05
When Small Frogs Seem to DisappearJoanne M Uppendahl What a wonderful poem and what a magical moment! I have a hidden cache of children's stories and in one of them, I have the girl who kisses the frog really pissed because she loved the little frog and wanted to be its friend and had no use whatsoever for a prince and all that posturing. But, that's my story - let me get back to yours. After this morning's splash [splash is such a great onomatopoetic word] of water on my sleepy face, I spy a gold-green tree frog perched atop my folded towel. in the bathroom! How cool! (Blink!) {GREAT} As I dare to grasp his damp, [damp/grasp =nice] wriggling body in my bare hand, he stabs a small insistent snout between [two of my][that makes it awkward - I know - but it is that old among/between conundrum which inserts its little snout in the poem for me. . Once outside, I settle him safely in tender undergrowth; but thus freed he turns to me, poised as if to leap my way. [great] Is this sticky gent a Prince I ought to kiss, perhaps still spellbound? How did this slight, grass-green guy find his way into my bath today? How indeed!!! Perhaps he's a silent scout, sent to announce Autumn's approach, the somber season when small frogs seem to disappear at first signs of chill, and wait 'til time to wake in spring and sing. lovely! Though summer’s soon at its end, tree frogs will come to croon again It would be funnier to say "croak": again but yours is much lovelier so leave it an pay me no mind. I shouldn’t be doing this right now anyway. Most amusing and lilting piece. 2003-10-06 19:10:17
Sole MatesRick BarnesHiya Rick I really enjoyed this poem! Sole Mates Nice triple pun on as –“Sole” instead of the usual “soul” which suggests a less than human relationship with something and also, the “shoe fits.” You don’t stand as tall as you use to, You’re bent over ‘bout half way down. I suppose it’s mostly from all the kickin’ you’ve done In a wild whirl variety of towns. Nice introductory stanza which takes us into the tale and ends In good a strong w alliteration. The word “variety” seems a syllable Too long for the meter – perhaps something like “assortment?” You have been one constant companion. For every step there’s a shoe print Tracing the places, faces and spaces in between The stories we’ve earned and the good times spent. Yep…great storytellers these old boots – and great sustained metaphor!{I never Met a phor I didn’t like] Sorry. Truth to tell, I’m as worn out as you, Feelin like I’m all but complete. But I'll say this, “If there was a better pair of boots In this damn world, they didn’t fit my feet.” Interesting [that means fascinating- it’s a good thing! ] ending! It suggests an acceptance of what it possible rather than a longing for something perhaps “better” but out of reach. A great philosophy cleverly expounded in this most amusing and lilting piece. 2003-10-06 18:54:24
FALLINGMark D. KilburnFALLING {Great title!} It must be lovely to live in a place that has real seasons. Your poem is warm, lyrical and lovely, Mark. I made a few technical suggestions. Best, Rachel Changing over autumn to winter hear that lonely call. Easy to see why people like me always fall in love/ with the fall. Serious forest elk will bugle a mournful and lonely sound. [I like the auditory attention in this piece]l No time to play this is no summer day there’s a crispness that’s going around. "Going around" is a nice casual expression here Summer birds fled replaced by the wind sounds like the ocean to me. [good analogy] Snow falls outside .... Grazing is done like the prodigal son How is this "like the prodigal son?' I think it needs a little more explanation - do the horses "roam" perhaps - and return to he same spot? horses cope with the seasons each year. .... You have to stay warm during blizzard and storm or while waiting for Jesus to come. [wonderful leap there!] Cold longest nights brief icicle days faith is believing in [H]im. Just [as] you know when the winter winds go that a warm spring is coming again. That kind of faith - yes -you make your point well 2003-10-04 11:20:03
Traffic LightC Arrownut It is always enjoayable to be read and attempt to interpret your metaphor rich work [-The][]ngels sit atop the trees with a light in each hand, red and green, stop and go, like a traffic light of insanity. On green, it can surge into some unknowing… Or stop cold at red. Yes... the traffic lights of our life .. the things that stop us cold or allow us to proceed - angels? Sure...why not? Here, near Los Angeles: El Pueblo de la Riena de Los Angeles, The city of the Queen of the Angeles - and the traffic capitol of the West... your allusion is especially poignant As the eyes descend, the trees broaden through blinking bulbs and hanging elves that jangle on artificial limbs. Down, down, down, down to the odd commercialisation of the holiday, with its artificial, manufactured, joy to the various-sized Christmas tins, all closed for the red lights. Then without warning: green light. The tins wobble, jump and dance as the lids loosen, and fly off through the trees, crashing, smashing into our insane condition that forces us to search and probe beyond the glare of our gods. Yes...wow..the "tins" were a surprise which makes me think of "canned" holidays, tinsel, cookies and faith all in one grand metaphor2003-10-04 10:14:39
My OilC ArrownutHi, C. e. My house without a cellar, burnt to the slab, picking through remains. My favorite oil painting—an abstract This is mysterious as we do not know if the painting was burned An abstract - but of what - what emotions does it elicit? Who is "picking through?" It might be "the self" If the house is a personification of the "self" then the idea of "no cellar" is fascinating. forecasts the fall: A thick black arrow running lengthwise across the canvas and tossing gold crosses, pink ah, we begin to see the picture - something points to a theology but the crosses are "tossed" and thus --- chaotic? Or are they simply abundant -diffrent denomination? rosaries, and holy water aside. Half burned, fringed with ash, but still in its tarnished frame. Recovering … a crisis of soul... yes and vivid and so very dramatic here --Me or It?{I think this is almost understood without stating it and I like the mystery of the metaphor] On my new wall an old souvenir, a reminder: Two decades of crisis and my indelible scars. To what end? A renewal of hope? A re-evaluation? My "oil" is a marvelous teasing title. Great piece, C 2003-10-04 10:06:29
japanese verse 25 (Dawn)Erzahl Leo M. EspinoThe first sign of sunlight Pouring in silent delight Warm as morning smile Lovely! There is a beautiful symmetry in the i's and l's of this piece that makes it amazingly artistic in presentation. This is a poem that should be made into a calligraphy tapestry and framed . I love the subject – perfect for haiku and the assonance of first/sign and Pouring/warm Great piece Ezrahl 2003-09-30 14:06:20
The Lethal LetterErzahl Leo M. EspinoInteresting, ... not your usual sort of poem, Erzahl. It is good to see the variety of styles in your writing. The Lethal Letter Good dramatic title I’m an alien to this land Fierce creature, acting human To ride our death vehicles We will board the four eagles You began with the singular pronoun "I'm and so the shift to "we" in the last line of the stanza is a little distracting Jointly, with my cloned brothers [I'm glad there are no females in this venture :] We’ll exhale the nightwalker[Whew ! Dramatic indeed] That creeps in the midst of you Even in daylight, no clue [nice orphan rhyme] Deliberately yours, I love that original salutation!! Mr. Muster Monsters I don't know if this is a real character or an imagined name - --- So quite unusual Chaos Lovers You fly not to soar but to deter And as of us, strike by great terror Ignite the will, *ensemble - what a quaint usage! I wonder though, if you don;t mean mean "assemble?" For in God’s hourglass Justice will serve us Fine ending to bring this all back home. This is a unique tribute indeed~! Best, Rachel2003-09-30 13:36:27
The PassingJudy A BadgerThe Passing She was ready. And He wanted her, needed her to come home I think that if the title were something else - it would be even more powerful to read these words and to suddenly realize where it was the woman was going and how much was being offered - heaven itself on wings of a lifetime of believing and heartfelt good deeds. He gave her the map, she followed it precisely. Perhaps - "he had given her the map - she was following it precisely.." to make her journey on earth continuous with her journey of passing? She was ready. But not I.[me ] When it is the object of a verb it is conventional to replace "I" with "me" I need her still, want her to come home with [her] smile that belies the joke, and not be gone anymore. "not be gone anymore" is a wonderful poignant construction He won't change His mind, send her back, can't.[Can't - is interesting - theologically] She was only on loan here, we all are. I search my soul, my motives for wishing things weren't what they are, seek the miracle that should be there. I miss her. He missed her too. It is His turn to walk with her, comfort her, You raise some fascinating theological questions - such as - would someone in an afterlife need "comforting?" I love when a poem makes us think as this one does. care for her for eternity. And I will see her again in time, complete, [interesting word choice!} a joyous reunion. Therein lies the miracle. Indeed! I really like this piece Judy it is heartfelt, and theologically complex and the language is beautiful 2003-09-30 11:00:32
Nativitycarole j mennieNativity At 25 degrees Fahrenheit, urine freezes on a park bench. This first stanza, contrasted with the stark and reverent title – is chilling indeed! Feces becomes cloaked slush, before glittering holiday windows, the Coca Cola Claus, and Rudolph's nose blinking on[-,] and off. And again here – you throw these amazing phrases [cloaked slush] “Coca Cola Claus” into a mix of commercialism in the midst of abject poverty that defies the reason for the season and forces people to look at the real message inside the tinsel and glow. Filthy bundles of clothes, emaciated stick figures, [a little redundant] remain hidden in cardboard caves, [caves is marvelous here – ] their blued fingers fisted against the cold. [vivid and heartbreaking] Clouds of stinking breath [I think we get the “stinking” from the “rotted” – perhaps - painful breath?] frost rotted teeth. Who am I to redeem this sorry crèche? Creche - Wonderfully ironic – and also chillingly ironic in the narrator's seeing the injustice and feeling so very impotent to act. All the sheep have been slaughtered. In eight days, the monkey comes. Very cryptic and fascinating - but I am not sure of the illusion here – a Buddhist legend perhaps? Excuse my ignorance. 2003-09-26 11:28:07
japanese verse 26 (Camel)Erzahl Leo M. EspinoWow! "Carrying the hills" is marvelous. This does everything haiku was designed to do. It is a stark presentation of a natural event which suggests a season [or, in in this case - amazingly - the lack of one] and it allows us to see the world with fresh vision..perfect cyllable count too. Congraultions, Erzahl! 2003-09-26 00:15:41
Lunar SpoofsJoanne M UppendahlHi, Joanne, I love this conversation with the phases of the moon! New moon wearing your veil [lovely image] to stir oyster beds,[why would wearing a veil stir oyster beds. A little unclear to me on the literal level] rouse your sea children from sleep. [ah, yes] Crescent moon slice pieces of night, [great] cut silver slivers for ghost trees to devour. Wonderful! It manages to be mystic and clever - no mean feat! Half and half moon-- make up your mind-- are you in or out of the mood tonight? very seductive, this moon! Three-quarter moon busy with laundry, pinning up sheets rinsed in your next-to-last spin Sheer lunacy![sorry - the devil made me do that ] Really I love that section Full moon -- oh! [yes! That exclamation captures the awe splendidly] Renounce your changeling sisters for fooling us with put-on phases. Indeed! What a tease! Another fine astrological poem, Joanne 2003-09-25 14:00:23
Little Manmarilyn terwillegerWhat a fine name and what a lovely tribute. I am sure this one will be laminated and framed for Caden to enjoy when he begins to read. I saw your wee face and limp was my heart Eyes of violet, skin brushed with heaven's hues The use of words like "wee," "tinker," "dapper" - do much to put us in touch with the "wee ones" heritage - an important gift to him in itself. "heaven's hues" is a lovely phrase. surround days with serenity give dignity to serendipity The previous two lines are the most amazingly constructed phrases and as well as sounding beautiful - with those sweet syllibant s's they have much meaning to contemplate - especially the second line of it - sound advice indeed! "hold fast my melted heart..." Is a little mixed a metaphor - on the literal level wonderful piece for one of life's great-grandest moments 2003-09-25 13:48:53
Translationcarole j mennieHi, Carole, Sometimes things are lost in the translation, but not here. Profound and beautiful piece. The house sits on a side street where flowers, planted by my mother, turn joyous heads skyward, following the sun. Wonderful opening Here, butterflies circle on Tiffany wings. [lovely image – nature imitating art imitating nature!!” Tiny brown birds nest in low foliage, guarding speckled secrets [really fine scene of whispering cloistered birds!} in a green-leafed sanctuary. I have seen her here mornings, in floppy straw hat with {unraveling} brim, caressing petaled faces, whispering endearments in perfumed language.[much like this poem with its luscious “perfumed languge" I suspect! Her garden always overflowed into the house, with multi-colored tulips, scarlet roses, and purple hydrangea. [wonderful colors!] Yellow pollen dusted her tables, giving the polished wood a golden glow. [ah…lovely] I put boot to shovel – [wrap] in warm burlap [fantastic assonance] a brittle brown shape, her favorite rose bush. Fumbling with the latch at the gate, I inhale a memory, a faint scent of her. [moving beyond words!] From beneath distant, machine-clipped[,] lawn [wonderfully atomic} flowered in pale pink granite, among crisp, blown leaves, came her proclamation, to root and bulb; [-to me], a loamy litany carried on aromatic bursts. a “loamy litany” indeed! How glorious a legacy! "But[,] tomorrow," she promised, "there will be more flowers." And there will – you know there will. Profound poem on a lot of levels – beautifully constructive and moving. Thank you. 2003-09-25 10:27:57
The Pilgrims ProspectFrank J GlynnAmazing poem, Frank. . The title itself, which seems a lampoon of Pilgrim’s Progress, sets us up on this compelling journey back through a contemplated life He has seen the fireworks and the ups and downs, He’s done [love this verb here] the torture and the ecstasy and lived the route. The climax at the end was waited for and when it came, tears flooded. That phrase is a little awkward – perhaps At the end, the awaited climax came, and still , tears flooded And when the wanderer’s clothes were burned at the shore, The past lost its touch and all that would ever be left would be Memory. Nabokov suggested this in his novel,“Speak Memory,” and Kant said that “at the end we are all only a collection of our memories – this says it more concisely…wonderful phrasemaking. But now what is to be done, as he re-traces his steps, Facing the way he came, all the old struggles in front of him: Going back – we must relive not only the joys but the pains of the past…yes. The debt[s] and the arguments and the unforgiving children; Very vivid – and powerful The crops waiting and the solitude. And all the hay that still waits to be cut.[Wonderful] No-one back home understands what he wanted To be constant – either: Understood what he wanted Or Understands what he wants His aims and dreams that surfaced on the pilgrimage. That were the taunts and bullying and the laughing at home. [great!} Dare he keep the shells? Reminds me – but not in a derivative way of – Eliot’s – “do I dare to eat a peach- do I dare disturb the universe?” How can he live now as he steps back over the mountains, Somehow that phrase puts me in mine of Emily Dickinson with her carriage and the “horses faces turned toward eternity” Jealous of the anticipation in the face of the others still going forward. “Jealous” is not quite a comprehensive enough word for me here. – he has gained knowledge in his journey and he knows they will be where he is one day and along the way – faced with the same pains. Is there a word that suggests an emotion that is envious, wistful and/or reflective and the same time burdened with wisdom? Perhaps not. Perhaps Jealousy really is the right word. What a complex philosophical piece this is! He has heard that some just carry on, looking for new routes, collecting new shells. You see, like [he], they could not face the return journey. They diverted their lives and turned again to the clam shell Yes, that closed mollusk, self contained and innocent of reflection. Wonderful poem Frank. 2003-09-25 10:03:34
Eagles (Tanka)carole j mennieYes, a tanka it is an a noble one. Nourished by I like the fresh use of the word "nourished" here it gives a depth of flavor to the experiece Sierra updrafts he circles, There is a soft, sillibant "s" sound as an underdraft here which carries us along in swift passage. leaving a pinion to mark his passage. one pinion...yes...nice alliteration and even nicer image. One floats on this wing. Thank you 2003-09-24 11:16:12
Between the Wind and the Song of Calling GeeseJoanne M UppendahlWell, here is one long title which works wonderfully well, Between the wind and the song of calling geese is where I want to live. They touch my cheeks and ears with your presence. The personification here is glorious - it make the touch tangible and present. Simply lovely. On chilly nights, when spotted owls are quieter-- [nice] still looking for remainder [not sure -is this a type of frog?} frogs, I lift my face to feel the moon you made. As lovely a tribute as I have ever read I want to sit on the wooden bench by the tree which drops its leaves on my spent summer blooms-- [great great leap!} a wine-red and gold altar cloth of your grace. For these, and more, all I have to offer is my thankfulness. And this poem ; and I feel certain that that is plentiful gift enough. Beautiful piece Joanne 2003-09-22 19:42:10
Leaping Lizardmarilyn terwillegerMarilyn, this is an amazing idea for haiki and it is almost there. If you throw in a seasonal word and change the adverbial phrase it could become a famous poem I think. It is a subtle commentary on how, in a frenzy to act we get nowhere - and much more - this is profound on so many levels. It is the second line which makes it more a commentary than a true haiku. If you could get in a word like mud, rain, sun etc and change the judgement word "psychotic" to a more descriptive action word would be truer to form. for example the leaping lizard [jumps zealosly from the mud] or [jumps eagerly from the swamp] In other words - something that lets us see the frog and where it is and ideally, what season it is. Real fine piece! Best, Rachel2003-09-22 14:17:15
Perfumery (Tanka)carole j mennieLovely! Old stripe lumbers forth - wonderful scene setting. I can see old stripe lumbering forth with his secret weapon (shades of Pepe LePeu} in this charmingly descriptive scene which combines all the elements of a fine Tanka into a charming and bucolic piece. But watch out for that odoriforous {great word!} gift. Tanka very much! (sorry} Best, Rachel2003-09-22 10:55:43
Straight At ItRick BarnesHi, Rick! Interesting philosophy! Straight at it. You don’t have to take aim, you simply go straight at it in exactly the same I like the odd rhyme pattern and the rhythms of this piece way you have lived your life thus far. All of the voices of your past choices call out to you from where you are very dramatic scene setting! saying simply, go straight at it and know that right and wrong are a matter of vision, ah..., but whose? This poem would start many a fireside conversation that would last long into the night your view of these things becomes your decision, yes.... and your vista was chosen a long time ago. interesting play on words of vision/vista So, now it is time to simply go, straight at it. Enigmatic and wise, this poem is so much deeper than its light lilting mood suggests. No corrections noted from this pedant. Excellent piece, Rick2003-09-22 10:48:08
Splendor in the Pages of a BookJoanne M UppendahlJoanne – how about simply : “ Splendor in the Pages” Which would add a little ambiguity to the title? I love this tribute to your grandfather. It was my own dear father who gave me that particularly wonderful gift. Just a simple book selection, black in color, paper bound-- ample leaves for my reflection, graceful symbol of our bond. Grandpa’s gift to me that day -- a dictionary of my own -- began in an engaging way to furnish keys for gates unknown. Nice lilting melody you have going here with good descriptive passages [no pun intended]with neat rhyme and near rhyme in a peasant aa/bb cadence which carries us along delightfully. Its pages took me further than all domains I’d known before; they offered up far-reaching spans, [-and] diverse meanings to explore. Origins of words we speak, hallowed tools with which we toil, varied Hebrew, Latin, Greek; each one born in different soil. Really nice flow Complexity of resonance, words connect from soul to soul. Written thoughts have permanence; terms can break or make one whole. [Yes! Exactly so!] With the simple gift he bought, he gave me much more than a book-- love of language can be caught, and this inoculation took! Yes...with such spendid results as this poem. Lovely piece, Joanne 2003-09-20 11:42:24
When Trees in Fall Begin to Spill Their ColorsJoanne M UppendahlHi, Joanne - good to see another nature piece from you. When Trees in Fall Begin to Spill Their Colors Wonderful title which promises much – and keeps that promise A deep rippling garden pond still draws dabbling wood ducks and calling geese. Nice “e” , I and soft a assonance in a lovely bucolic beginning Ring-necked pheasants run through tall weeds; sun’s rays gild their straight unwavering tails. What a lovely picture you are painting here – I can see the straight gilded edges of the tops of their tail shining in the weeds! Shy birds find easy places to swiftly hide from sight while plucky ones escape to thicker, thorny scrub. Poor shy birds – to be the ones without the substantial hiding place – A good allegory. Wasps threaten sleek ruby-throated hummingbirds, undaunted on their quest for wet, sweet feasts. The subject is a little ambiguous here as it could be either the wasps or the hummingbirds who are on a quest . It is true that grammatically it is the hummingbird – as that is the last named noun – but it could be the introductory clause wasps – my money is on the hummingbirds though. Townsend’s warblers will remain through winter then flee for mating season, flaring bottle green. Wonderful colors! Fine strong visual ending to a treat for the “eyes” 2003-09-18 22:42:55
The Bandit Queenmarilyn terwillegerIn the spirit of Robert Service, this is perfectly metered story poem and tells a great tale filled with detail and excitement. This is a tale known by all In valleys wide and far Told by some just to enthrall The stories of Belle Starr I don’t think you mean … to enthrall..the stories…perhaps the line break is not enough to separate the object/subject here so I suggest either a dash after “far” or [These ]stories of Belle Starr and since you have a last stanza “the” pattern throughout this clever piece, perhaps the dash is preferable Born in eighteen forty eight In a farm house of mortar She grew tall and straight The girl Belle Starr Married [-young ] when only eighteen [a little redundant with both “young” and eighteen”] To a man less than stellar Gave birth, kept the corners clean [great image] The mother Belle Starr Bandits Cole, James, and Younger Evil enough for feathers and tar [yep} Dined in her kitchen from her larder The wife Belle Starr Two husbands later she wed Sam Starr Robbed trains car to car She was a tempest in a samovar {love it1} The bandit Belle Starr Served time in a house of correction Talk of her was popular Bandit Queen the general perception The outlaw Belle Starr [or perhaps “the convict" – as she was caught and you already have “bandit””] In time she lived in the Choctaw Nation Became a [citizen] exemplar An assassin [slayed ] her in shotgun fashion The life and death of Belle Starr Wonderful story cleverly presented I like the rhymes and slant rhymes to Starr! 2003-09-18 12:03:35
Poetic LinkageTerrye GodownYes, we are a: Theatre of the absurd, Huddled in our own deft words, Audience to emotions stirred, Never much ennui to bore us - Kin to Aurora Borealis - Sparkling..in our own rich chorus Read down, Terrye ... Thanks for the tribute. I especially like" Laminated on cyber technology Inspiring unrecognized talents Navigating the perimeters of intellect Kaleidoscopes of diffusing expression Very clever! Best Rachel 2003-09-18 11:47:11
GrandJudy A BadgerAh, yes - lovely. The moments you capture are poignant and remarkable. It is so difficult to do situational poetry well - our emotions tend to get the best of our poetic sensibilities - but you have done it! This piece is fresh, evocative and original. Grand [good strong pun of a title] Dancing, impish eyes, Her sparkling chin alive With the glistening dewdrops Of newly formed speech, Wonderful! Yes - new speech is something "alive" and the dewdrop image captures the soft delicacy of that life. She presents one dog-eared daisy [Really lovely image - one thinks of puppies and flowers and all things soft and adorable - but in a remarkably fresh way] From tiny fists clenched tightly And mixed with Tootsie roll. "Mixed" is not quite the right word here, I think. Even if she is also holding a Tootsie Roll, one needs to pause stop to consider the logistics of it and that interrupts the flow – at least for me. . Perhaps something like…” tiny fists sticky with Tootsie Roll?” A sweetness more addicting Than the candy. INDEED How lovely! My heart skips and tumbles And tap dances in my chest. [a little too ordinary for this extraordinary piece.] How fitting that she should be called Grand. Grandchild. Granddaughter. Grand. Grand! Yes, and I am certain you are a grand - Grandmother! [I am thousand times more blessed] Since the entrance of this little elf [incredible 'el' assonance with elf/melts/mellows] Whose smile melts and mellows. The true Wonders of the World. Grandchildren. [Yes, the "ordinary miracles " of the world - writ big when they are standing in front of us with new words and bent flowers. Thank you for this splendid piece. Good to see your work again, Best, Rachel 2003-09-18 11:31:13
Hamburg HaikuMichael J. CluffPowerful poem, but I think it is more a senryu than haiku. I think we would get it without the title though. "Trills" is a chilling word in this context. Fine evocative piece. 2003-09-10 19:36:31
Looking BackThomas Edward Wrightnot much to do nights in SimpliCity, but come hell or high water there is a bunch of laurels waitin' somewhere for the tale tellin' of a bum like you2003-09-09 10:18:53
Untitled Haiku RevisedBarbara AscoleseLoely poem! Perfect in form and evocative in language - the w sounds echo the leaves in motion. This is everything Haiku should be2003-09-07 22:19:06
japanese verse 21 (Prayer)Erzahl Leo M. Espino Two palms together Touching the heart of Heaven For manna to fall The first two lines work wonderfully well. The third line is lovely in its idea , but gramatically it seems to lack a verb - I know "praying": is implied, but it needs a little more verb intention, at least for me - for the poem to be a complete thought. Excellent visual and profound subject make this a gem that just needs a little shining. 2003-09-07 22:12:16
Autumn (haiku)marilyn terwillegerThis poem also "radiates fervor" autumn harvest moon echoing last sunshine beam radiates fervor It is subtle in that the soft a and o sounds of that serve as a a sort of cushion on which to rest this homage to the rays of the moon. The specific autumn harvest moon - bright and orange does indeed echo - and so does this poem. Marvelous - everything Haiku should be. 2003-09-07 22:00:32
Sunday in Central Parkcarole j mennieHi, Carol What a neat idea for a poem! It takes me back thirty years to when my son was about seven and we encountered two very noisy zoo hyenas so engaged. He kept asking why the "dog was laughing." I guess it is time I told him although I suspect he has long ago figured it out. Sunday in Central Park Great bucolic title which leads us to anticipate a rather different poem! We saw a pair of lions screwing in their cage today in front of an afternoon crowd. I like the casual language here There was no preamble. The male turned his back on us and banged away. ( men!} Caught by surprise, we parents with toddlers [toddlers is such a sweet word-perfect here] all became pillars of salt. [great analogy - turning into salt as a result of - just looking - like Lot's wife] Then, a groan, a dismount. Embarrassed silence [make it clear that it is the observers, not the animals who are embarrassed] I felt my daughter tugging, her chubby, three-year-old fingers insistant. this is marvelous because we are already cringing at the question she will ask The question came. "Mommy, can we see the monkeys now And so - in the way of children - things get put in perspective! Love this piece, Carol2003-09-05 09:02:50
Living Room Karmastephen g skipperHi, stephen While this is a speculation on a serious subject, this poem feels light as air because of the jaunty rhythm that has been accomplished. This makes the reader want to know more and to follow along easily without getting bored. I made some suggestions mostly just for the meter. Very clever title which sets the mood for the poem [perhaps – “At the window “ as a first line – to bring us more firmly into the picture? ] Howling at the moon Searching for karma, In my living room. i want to sing it! This would make a terrific song! Life's petty dramas are passing me by. Ambiguous as to whether or not this is a good thing! Great! Led blindfolded, To a date, With a fickle destiny. A blind date with destiny! Love it! You ask why do I howl at the moon? And I say to you, It is to soon to tell, And to late, To spin the sorry tale. Great rhythm and dialect here! [-For] I am not a forked [-] tongued serpent of lies! [I [-would] tell the whole truth, [-For] my words will never lie. Even if my lips, Sometimes cannot tell the difference! as interesting as this aside is – it looses the rhythm here While heart, soul and body, Remain true, I will be lead by love. And I will howl at the moon, Still searching for karma, In my own living room. Nice the way you bring it all back home. This is a terrific piece 2003-09-04 10:24:25
After The RainNancy Ann Hemsworth Hi, Nancy. This is a really difficult form but you seem to have a knack for it. I made some typo corrections and a couple of things to consider. Trodden fields lay washed in worry Crows cry![They fly] with fevered [fury] Marshland ragged [raged?] in sheets of murk Foreboding thoughts[-,] run so berserk In [cryptic] puddles, illusions play An [unhinged] mind, drowns in dismay Reality so twisted; blurry Upon this path all demons lurk They thirst upon my soul's decay. Excellent piece with an amazing and fresh ending 2003-09-01 23:30:08
Bridge of TearsMichael BirdHi Michael, Really good sustained analogy here. I like the energy of the poem and the visual and emotional landscape of it. I will make some suggestions to tighten it up a little – suggestions to move it along – which you are , of course. free to ignore. and I will attend the couple of typos – but I think it works really well and is a fine and complete story. Sometimes late at night on a warm summer[‘]s eve I [-] go for a walk [When I come] to the bridge over the highway I [ ]stand staring for hours [-] Watching the cars and trucks below on the highway Going north and south Their headlights [scurry like fireflies] The ones heading south [interest me the most] [Sometimes it seems for brief moment] As if I were superhuman and could leap On top of a semi[-]trailer and be whisked away [through] the thousand miles that [separate] us [to fall] right into your arms Dawn arrives much too soon And the fireflies all [disappear] [Desperation,] and the reality of it all sets in And I realize that you are gone from my highway of life [It’s] been awhile since [I’ve] been to that bridge Even though I drive past it every[ ]day I should go back there one last time Pick up the pieces that I left behind Go the opposite way with no looking back And search for a new path to walk Wonderful ending which resolves the conflict as the narrator comes to terms with longing and make a conscience decision to move on with life 2003-09-01 12:13:05
THE DEVIL'S DUEMark D. KilburnI like the title with its hint of "giving the Devil his due" which this poem addresses in spades - The darkest hopelessness born of self-doubt spawned from distrust and self-pity. since born and spawned mean pretty much the same thing and spawned is more powerful - how about condensing a little to something like the darkest hopelessness spawned from self-doubt and self-pity this would give parallelism to the "self" - construct and the distrust is be evident later in the poem - just a suggestion for the flow- or if you don't like that suggestion, perhaps reverse born and spawned - so that "born" - in the next stanza is in chronological order? When hopelessness grows [in?] regretful hearts depression is born denying all gratitude it grows with a dishonest voice like spilled black ink spreading, [good simile] darkness obliterating all hope. Death is depression’s song, [fantastic expression] pain its melody, abetted by apathy its path is aided by surrender and weakness spreading exponentially its seeds germinate in terms of acceptance, (the blues, the blahs, the downs or just a rough damn time). (really fine dramatic section - finds its own rhythm] Strength [is] depression’s enemy [to make it stand out even more as an expression] so depression saps strength certainly, as well as first and foremost enabling us to succumb to the black inky spread. Proudly wearing victim’s names like badges for the brave, names and faces that dwell and haunt our conscious and subconscious, for sadly all were suicides. [the death of hope - very dramatic and well stated] Depression operates with a universal absence of good;[ah...yes!] deceit and lies its only [voice], its strength grows equal to its spread its darkness abysmal its brink bottomless. An icy skeletal hand chokes the spirit’s motivation setting in motion the cycle of despair. [very vivid and chilling description] Depression exhibits enduring patience [interesting! - this turns on a bibical phrase] never resting, stopping or sleeping especially when good fortune rules. Always close and waiting for an open door of thought, an unfair fight and foe for those who suffer and struggle for survival or search for mere smiles. [excellent! both winsome and sad ] A storm of boundary less and borderless [great!} hate non-directional, blowing through reality magnetically pulled towards those who have hard lives and troubled times. Enigmatic for the nothing is omnipotent, enigmatic when that same nothing kills and seduces the suffering innocent. [alas, too often true] The sun will rise tomorrow silhouetting an empty parking garage, six stories tall with a sidewalk still stained, like red ink spreading. ominous and chilling ending to a powerful and dramatic poem 2003-08-30 09:48:47
japanese verse 23 (Tide)Erzahl Leo M. EspinoLovely! Crescent calms the sea It softly combs the surface Far from shore to shore The C's make their own crescent shape which almost turns this into a visual poem and the idea of the moon combing the sea and soothing it in that almost spiritual way is marvelous. I had to think about far from shore to shore --because it is not quite clear and yet it has a complex originality - far from shore - and a neat ambiguity {the moon] is far from the shore and the shores are far from each other - which is amazing really. "Smooth, from shore to shore" would "fix it" but I am not sure it needs fixing. If there is an underlying Islamic metaphor here it is not clearly evident. Best, Rachel 2003-08-29 10:15:55
Doppler EffectJoan M Whiteman Innovative title! She held her breath as the [breeze sighed by,] great phrasemaking here gently rouging her cheek. Vivid and alive with color and feeling; this is an excellent beginning It brought to mind his touch and the sweet taste of temptation. She remembered his arrival, the thrill of the approaching train. [How many rainstorms have since saddened her soul?] [wonderful1} Really nice speculation and more vivid images It was all too brief, his presence, like a flower in early Spring [a little ordinary a simile introduction for this extraordinary piece –perhaps just [Like a [name the flower?} fading to brown after one day in the sun] Running deep, [-like] a silent river, darker than midnight, shining with the searing sweat of an unforgiven martyr. these are two great analogies, especially the second one, but together they seem like a mixed metaphor – it is hard to imagine a river shining with sweat The ending is quite perfect as it adds dimention and purpose to the poem 2003-08-28 10:28:55
Untitled HaikuBarbara AscoleseI like the alliterative "W"s here which echo the sound of the wind. It is interesting to capitalize the word "Winds" as this makes the phrase come alive as a proper noun and the sentiment is olriginal and lovely. Whispering Winds are the soothing reward, left by a violent storm. The line break seems arbitrary in the first line. perhaps, in order to get the syllable count and still have the requisite jump in meaning between the first and second parts of a haiku it could be something like [(Soft or warm--or another adjective} Whispering Winds; the soothing reward, left by] The poem echoes the season excellently and gives us a new way to look at the wind. That is the reward of all good poetry - a fresh view of the world. Thank you. 2003-08-27 09:49:08
japanese verse 22 (Water Lilies)Erzahl Leo M. EspinoLovely scene setting in an almost classical haiku style- but for the adjectives. The suggestion that the lilies (in concert with their suitors frogs are "croaking is quite marvelous. Mention of "the stars" at target of these affections is perfect as it allows us to raise our vision of the pond to eternity - which is the beauty of a good haiku. Thank you. 2003-08-21 10:51:55
My Alter WorldTraci L DeGraffenreidPoignant and real, this is really a sensitive and well written personal poem, Traci My Alter World The word "Alter" does not really work as a noun here. The world is not mad, no voices converse Sanity is not a thing I rehearse My mind doesn’t wander through unearthly miles My mouth doesn’t long for poisonous vials this opens with a strong dramatic punch My dad is not buried, and I’m not undead (WOW) No one is waiting to mess with my head I am not scarred or bleeding today My heart simply weightless, no fear to convey [As powerful an ironic description of despair as I have ever read] My arms do not know a straight jacket['s] hug [interesting verb-hug] I’ve not been discarded by merely a shrug Free to be sane and cherish my friends Free to be me and not Ginger Lynn Because we [at least I] do not know who Ginger Lynn is at this point the name seems out of place and stops the movement Free to explore and discover myself No knowledge of poisons found on a shelf A daddy to love and to take care of me Soft silky skin that others can see The "daddy" part is much more powerful than the wish for nice skin, I would like to see those last two lines reversed. Headstrong and smart, as clear as a bell Fearful of nothing, no secrets to tell [to tell? I think perhaps you shold find a rhyme with "keep." It is clever to say "secrets to tell" but it is lighthearted and so not in keeping with the serious nature of this piece. Someone to hug who will not pull away and someone who loves me and wants me to stay This is the world I find in my dreams A world where reality is not what it seems Good dramatic ending! 2003-08-19 09:59:19
Home Townmarilyn terwilleger Sleepy little town in a hollow spot with a river pushing through Maine street, five cent store, Piggley-Wiggley, mercantile shop Nicely descripitive,this introduces the sleepy town with an abundance of "l"s and strong visual nouns clothed in a good strong meter. Regal rock formations standing guard on sides and corners no strangers in this [sanctuary] [only only friends and families abide] [to make the most of the internal side/abide/ internal rhyme- just a suggestion] He grew up here, a little bend in the road, sheltered from snags [great ironic expression] of the world carefree, peaceful, devoid of fear He fished the river with its edges of trees hunted [a]ntelope on the sage-brushed plains Then beyond the realm of sanity there came a war...he was twenty-four [good startling orphan rhyme} In a land far, away he lost his dreams he lay bleeding on sands of waste As colors of paste pooled into crimson, eyes closed[,] he thought of home, proud of its vigor in a watercolor world where no war or squall abounds Strongly vivid and dramatic but is the country where he is from somehow not involved in this war? Did he join the Foreign Legion or perhaps he was an American volunteer in the Spanish Civil War? I had thought Iraq or Desert Storm - or any American fighting any war abroad, but this confuses me a little. He died alone in that piece of hell his heart failed, but his soul went home. Yes,any war is hell itself. Good poem Marilyn which grabs us and keeps us interested2003-08-19 09:43:22
An Immodest RequestRick BarnesAs tender as a prayer and yet so much of this world that it seems to guide us to a loving admiration of a person, this poem sings. An Immodest Request (clever play on words with the Swift title} Show [me to] your hidden places [Along] exposed terrain. Loose [the] soft secluded laces That bind your last *restraint - the near rhyme works too and does not make one pause to consider the the grammar. Invite my eyes to trespass where The light so seldom trails, And let my wonder wander [interesting phrase] there And offer its avails. Open to me your ministries And all that they reveal That I may know your mysteries By scent and sight and feel. nice rhyme ministries/mysteries Lay down our hearts where passions lie Surround me through and through, And know at last that it is I Surrendering to you. Fine ending which is both poignant and real 2003-08-15 11:08:41
Wingsmarilyn terwillegerThis poem has wings itself -soaring with light syllables and sailing along currents of long vowels. God give me wings, please nice intro To fly over murky waters above rue of painful falters "above rue" is a remarkable phrase and "painful falters" is so close in sound it is almost an anagram and it is delightful in fresh meaning. God give me wings, please this becomes more and more plaintive as it emerges as a chorus To glide o'er days of molten gray {'molten gray" is a little ordinary for this extraordinary piece. flee beyond emotions of fey (the grey/fey rhyme is delicious though) God give me wings, please To loft atop (lovely) flame[s?] of regret sail upon shadows of kismet neat unexpected and amazing ending to a finely constructed piece. 2003-08-13 13:56:41
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