Wanda S. Thibodeaux's E-Mail Address: wthibo9869@hughes.net

By adding a Personal Profile, the information you add will be displayed whenever someone clicks on your name from any number of different screens. You can also add your very own Picture, Favorite URL & Favorite Song to your Personal Profile!

So far 709 People have Entered a Personal Profile on The Poetic Link! Click Here to see the rest of them or to Add your Own Personal Profile Now!

Below you will see ALL of the Critiques that Wanda S. Thibodeaux has given on The Poetic Link.
By Clicking a Poem Title, you can view the poem that is associated with each Critique.

If you would like to view all of Wanda S. Thibodeaux's Poetry just Click Here.

Click HERE to return to ThePoeticLink.com Database Page!

Poem Title	Poet Name	Critique Given by Wanda S. Thibodeaux	Critique Date
verse 69 (Thunder)	Erzahl Leo M. Espino	Dear Erzahl, I love a rainy day, my favorite stay at home time. This piece has a lovely visual feel to it when reading, a summer storm, late evening, lightening dancing across the sky, thunder sounding in the distance. Isn't it funny how when you are young, running in the rain is a joyous occasion (it was for me), then when you become older it is considered not too smart and you refrain from such spontaneous pleasure for all those reasons that adults do things... I think of rain as one of the most sensual words in our language, guess that sounds strange but even in music and movies, that holds true. Of course, storms can be threatening but not in this beautiful Haiku. This is a meadow slick from rain, lightening, bright, but not blinding and thunder's chortle is subtle and tender. You've captured the trueness of nature. I always love your work, Erzahl. My best always, Wanda	2005-02-23 07:26:38
Reunion	Joanne M Uppendahl	Dear Joanne, This is so natural, given the chance you would really do just these things. "Roll out the biscuit dough" is an original quote for sure, or perhaps Martha White said it...ha! The image of Grandpa cursing and spitting out the chimney fire is a treasure. I think you must mean chewing tobacco by "Red Devil." "I open the door where she lives, that place inside me where she always lives and she begins reading her memories out of it; she begins to show me the spare bed with the blue quilt." I love what you have said here. Didn't all Grandma's have spare beds and when not in use they kept their newest treasures on them, something they're sewing, knitting, etc., but the bed would be immaculate, the covers stretched tight. Those were such inviting beds. Even though memories invoke sadness sometimes, such as you might hold each other and have a good cry, there is such joy in remembering our loved ones and the things about them we cherished the most. Lovely piece, beautifully written. My very best, Wanda	2005-02-10 23:30:11
Somewhere in the back of my mind I hear a melody	Leo Wilder	Dear Leo, I love this, for some reason it struck a chord with me, somewhere in the back of my mind. I did have to smile at the rather mixed song choices but somehow you pulled it all together very cleverly and left a clear picture for readers. "Silent night, Holy night, Three Dog Night, (This is so out of place, it's hilarious) Joy to the world." "The Lord came to tiny Bethlehem before steel was king and smog killed the sparrows." (A bird's eye view of present time. Great image) The last stanza is the most revealing. Reference to the dogwood tree brings to the hearts eye our Lord carrying the cross, bearing our sins when he had none of his own. I enjoyed this very much. It makes you stop and think about those things that are important. It's a lovely poem, Leo. My best, Wanda	2005-02-10 23:11:36
For The Dreamer	stephen g skipper	Dear Stephen, This is a beautiful love poem. I'm sure your wife loves it and has read it many times already. There is a constant missing her in this lyrical piece, a sweet yearning to be with her. I like that you have begun each stanza with "I had a dream" and especially "you opened your heart to me and let me see the flower gem which lay hidden within." It is hard to write honest love poems...but you have succeeded with this one. Losing your life partner, your lover, your wife, is as much as anyone can bear. I am glad you are able to put your true feelings down in the beautiful form of poetry. It will help heal a broken heart while giving you lasting memories to reflect on. When you write, you seem to remember those small details that otherwise you might not remember as well. You've done justice to love with this one, Stephen. I hope you are doing well. God bless. Always my best, Wanda	2005-02-10 22:51:32
The Problem With Angles	Mell W. Morris	Dear Mell-o, "I am a thin, defined woman with sharp edges and I know who I am and where I am going." This statement tells us you are strong, resilient, sure of where you are in life. BTW-I loved your picture on the forum, you are so pretty- and you have lovely dark hair. Of course, I envisioned you differently so I was glad you posted it. I think this poem gives us some delightful insight into the poet's personality. Her uncanny wizardry with writing poetry and I'm sure anything else she chooses to write is evident in this piece. Her "canny doo enda" at the door works well. I love the way duende slips off the tongue. "God made me of Himself, another work of art like many found on common ground, in fens or pocosins, near grasslands, high and low lands, or lone as a wife on a widow's walk, looking out to sea." I would like to be one of those works of art down here in the swamplands. A great visual, "God completes molding his last angel of the day and places her on the ledges near the pearly gates." You are given a square halo (a wonderfully unique idea) to soften your sharp edges. I could use one of those too. Because of your cerebral title, I think perhaps your "angle" here was not entirely about preparing for your final freedom but allowing it to be said that you have sharp edges, incorporating a sensitive and loving resolution as in a square halo, God's gift to the gifted. You have many splendid poems to write and friends to keep up with. This site is a better place because of the excellence of your work. I truly enjoyed this, although I may have read it differently than others, I can only say you said it all beautifully. Take good care. Luv and best wishes, Wanda	2005-02-09 23:55:56
verse 68 (Parents)	Erzahl Leo M. Espino	Dear Erzahl, This has a prayer like tone that I really enjoy. A solid truism from first to last word. Your effort in this piece outstanding, you are without a doubt our Haiku wizard. I can't even talk "short" so you know where that leaves me and Haiku. It has been amazing to watch your skill unfold, because frankly, your first Haiku and your present are of like quality, obviously, this is what you will become FAMOUS for. I studied the last line, thinking it might read better as "From them we come", but have decided that your choice actully works best. My first reading of this brought two parent images to mind, those of my mother and father, and also the striking image of Mary and our Lord in the manger scene for with the birth of Christ came the promise of "rebirth" and salvation for those of us who believe. This may not be what you intended at all but just a misreading on my part. Still, it is lovely and thought provoking and I am happy to find it to start my day off right. Good luck this month. My very best, Wanda	2005-01-27 07:32:12
Reader	Joanne M Uppendahl	Dear Joanne, Can I just believe you wrote this just for me? "Writing begins to flow-connected to mood or blood-pounding behind my eyes-follows sensations in my bones-of something a-borning-which wants welcome but will come anyway, even with no place to land." It's not my fingers, or words, or the hum of an uncaring machine. "It's knowing that you read." Yes! Yes! That is it! To write and think that someone would mark that place to return to over and over again. That would be an absolute joy for any writer. You've captured that surprising need we all have and don't really know how to express. This for me is one of your best, there are so many best, I have to say I can no longer choose. I find this one to be exciting tho, a different perspective. Enjoyed so much! My very best wishes. Wanda	2005-01-23 16:16:40
A Letter from Mother	Claire H. Currier	Dear Claire, Oh Claire, this is a poem to remember, for it is a rarity that you find such natural sincerity from beginning to end. How you must have felt after completing this. Every line leads to the "Me too" signature of love. I adore the idea that "It's just the way it is here in Heaven" for it shows her/your genuine acceptance of the truth, it's not magic. It is God's promise. My own mother often said, "If you ask me" also and it became an endearing memory for me. This poem shows how much you miss her and is such a loving tribute that it makes this reader's eyes sting with tears. This is melodious as a heartbeat and is perfection in the sense that change cannot improve it's meaning. God bless and comfort you. My very best, Wanda	2005-01-23 15:41:21
Keeper of the Gems	Mell W. Morris	Dear Mell, Where've you been? I've missed you! I see the muse has been by. This is just wonderful. How do you do it? Guess it would be interesting to go opal mining. I love the vivid colors, the milky white opals are too bland. "It's the time of year for opal planting, that short span between winter and spring." Such an original theme, it is earmarked for success this month. "Every day a grace, nothing out of place in the milky light of living and I feel the blessings to my spirit." Wonderful! You are so blessed to be able to write these glorious thoughts and share the splendid imagination you have. "As the sun rises and sets, so I follow the rules given me by my ancestral guide" and obviously, they were very wise. You have become a harvester...if only by imagination. "The jewels are symbol and sign, a praise for the ways of the devine." And so, I hope your furrowed fields produce and you become an opal-aire. Your words alone have produced great pleasure and insight into our roles of responsibility here, perhaps we need to plant praise seed also. I always get an uplifted spirit from your work and that is why I enjoy it so much. Best always, Wanda	2005-01-23 15:02:52
From My Backdoor	marilyn terwilleger	Dear Marilyn, I hope you are recovering well. This is a lovely ode to winter and even the coming spring. Every line is gentle nature blessing us with abounding beauty. I like the title you have chosen. "Summer has succumbed to the rude growling howl of winter" is my favorite line, tho the entire poem is charged with great descriptive writing. "My tulip bulbs lie beneath like cadavers within their graves blanketed from the cruel catarrh." Fantastic line! What a dark image for the delicate tulip and it works well here. I've so enjoyed this. It was refreshing to find tonight. I have no idea how I will handle the new site when it is completed, lost all the time, probably, still looking forward to it. I don't think you need to change anything. It's a garden of delight already. Take good care. I'm sending you some happy thoughts...get well wishes. My best always, Wanda	2005-01-20 22:50:00
I Remember You Dr. King	Latorial D. Faison	Dear Latorial, This breathes with sincerity. It is just a grand tribute to the man you honor and he is most deserving. I remember also his accomplishments and having lived in Alabama all my youth, It was peace he prayed for in Birmingham and Selma and in every town he traveled to. He was God's weapon and he gave himself for the good of all people. His message was not just for the black but all people, a universal prayer given to him word for word so that he might preach peace and unity, and he did. Had you not written but only one verse in this piece, "I remember you as Brother Martin- You fed us food for thought-When a dreadful past left us starving", would have sufficed for a beautiful tribute by itself. All verses are outstanding but this particular one really speaks to me and is undeniably beautiful. I was eleven and living near Montgomery when Rosa Parks first became known. I was at the same bus station almost every Saturday because my mother had to take the bus to go shopping for material, threads, etc. since it was not available in the little town we lived in. She would take me with her. I had not even realized that Rosa Parks rode our bus until that situation came up with her refusing to give up her seat. We were not on the bus that day. My mother taught against prejudice and injustice. We played with black children and some of our most treasured older people in the country neighborhood were black ladies. We loved them all. I have written about several myself. My mother had quilting parties and there were two black ladies that came with all the others. I was introduced to racism in 1955 also. My family cried with shame when the governor of our state took the stand he did. I have always felt a kinship with Rosa Parks because she was a strong woman and I am too. I have lived thru certain things as she did that would test a weaker woman and I have survived. I was happy to see them honor her at the White House not too long ago. Don't ask me to remember exactly when, I think my brain cells that control memory are slowing dying...ha! Well, I've said enough, I think... This is a lovely piece and one you can be proud of. Best always, Wanda	2005-01-19 23:33:32
verse 36 (Ku Klux Klan) - revisited	Erzahl Leo M. Espino	Dear Erzahl, And how are you? I like the picture you've posted on the new forum. I can't see that you've changed this. It's still as strong as before but if I were writing this, I would try to change the second line. I think you should make reference to the prejudice that these people taught and still teach in some areas. The Klan was and is hostile toward other races. Their prejudice is shameful, rigid with hatred. I like the fact that you have posted this, bringing it into focus again. I suppose I just think kaleidoscope brings a more pleasurable image to my mind, altho I understand the reason you have chosen the word, and it does serve the poem well. These are just my thoughts, Erzahl, and sometimes they are not work a flip. You, my friend, are a grand writer. I suspect you are a very straightforward and delightful young man also. I wish you the very best of luck. Take good care. Wanda	2005-01-18 22:02:12
Cloudy Outbursts	Joanne M Uppendahl	Hi Joanne, We're supposed to be having some of those outbursts by tomorrow night. "Sugar-donut clouds" great beginning image. My favorite lines, "Hives of rain-bees swarm into streams and rivers, sting streets with drizzle." I love a rainy night as the song goes, or afternoon thunder storms. Makes you wish for a tin roof. Refreshing and appealing to our present seasons spirit. Much enjoyed! I'm going to work this month so my vote will count...ha! My very best, Wanda	2005-01-11 23:40:24
A Bowl of Cherries	marilyn terwilleger	Dear Marilyn, Gosh, it does sound good. Sounds like the town I came from. After years, we finally got one stoplight. We were uptown then. Your description of being chased by Chief Jenson is hilarious. I never woulda thought it! We didn't have snow, although I am profoundly sad that we didn't. You hear them say in songs and such something about one horse towns, those who grew up that way have such a grounding, I see it in my grandchildren. They do not have the fun we had as children. It seems we learned so much quicker- ways to be be independent. The world just seemed to fill up and now there are so many city children who will never pick up pecans, thrill to the call of a whippoorwill, leap half naked into the creek, run through corn fields until somebody gets wind of whose doing it...oops, that must be Chief Jenson's corn field. You took me back and in a good way, Marilyn. Thanks for the country run... Glad you had a good youth. Thanks so much. My best always, Wanda	2005-01-09 15:40:26
On the Grief of Parents	Joanne M Uppendahl	Dear Joanne, In response to this poem, this heartfelt dedication, I must tell you something that happened two years ago, a direct message- there for seeing and believing and yet it took 38 years for it to be disclosed as the truth it is. It came with the help from a child. You remember I wrote about Ferris, my brother, who died at eleven. He had drawn an unbelievable picture of Christ the day before his death. This picture brought great comfort to all of us and my mother held it dear. On that same day he drew Christ, he also drew a picture of the church we attended. It was absolutely beautiful, we treasured it also, made postcards, Christmas cards using that picture. I named my first son after hiim and my second son named his son after his brother so we have two more Ferris names. I decided to tell my grandson, at 11, the story of Ferris, what he was like and show him the pictures. He was very interested, having the same name and as he listened and studied the pictures, he began to observe different things about them. I was speechless when he asked me why Ferris had drawn the hole-what hole, I took the picture to see what he saw and there for all of these years has been even further truth that GOD is real and compassionate, for there in the exact spot where he was buried was an almost heart shaped circle representing a hole (as my grandson said) and marking the spot where he would lay. It is very recognizable that a grave is what he meant to depict, because there was no grave there until his. He drew this the day before he died and he was trying to leave the message to those who loved him so much that he would be fine, he was being welcomed with open arms. I know this is long for a critique and isn't a critique at all. I just wanted to share this true story. Since that day, I have felt I have something tangible (even) to hold onto. My grandson does not realize the magnitude of his visual discovery. I spoke to each of my siblings, they all checked their picture, amazed that none of us caught the meaning of what he had drawn. I know that he was led to do these drawings. You are so right. "No instant's seamed enough," our joy finds escape, leaving our lives void of color. Your last verse is poignant, brings tears. This poem brought back a lot of memories. You're a gifted writer. My best always Wanda	2005-01-09 15:13:46
Aleutian Getaway	Mell W. Morris	Omigosh, elk liver! I'd have to do the cleaning! I've never wished I were an Eskimo, but I do love snow and sleds and those cool parkas you mention. After reading your recipes I am whelmed also, with the desire to be a vegetarian. "I must appear flummoxed" gave me a delightful giggle as I am sure you would have reacted just this way. This piece is fun, we don't have enough of those. This story makes me think of a trip I made to Virginia. This woman, who is educated, is a supervisor at the local post office, the soloist at church, and my absolute angel sister took me to her basement to show me what they had been canning - deer meat - hundreds of jars all neatly stacked and ready to go. She is also a deer hunter. I could never kill a deer but she bagged a ten-pointer and had one husband and three sons very annoyed. This is a great narrative charged with vivid visuals and a perfect ending. I can't find anything that needs change as if I thought I would. They serve alligator here but I don't order and Cajuns don't share wives with any guest, not mine anyway...ha! I might have some eskimo in me tho, I've been rubbing noses with my grandchildren a lot lately. Take care of yourself. Wildflowers and Onions, Wanda	2005-01-09 14:03:16
Abiding Winter	Joanne M Uppendahl	Dear Joanne, This is to be treasured once again as one of your splendid nature poems. I am always touched by the way you make it seem so personal, as if you know this frog...your dear hubby is okay, isn't he? You haven't twitched your nose and stranded him on some lily pad? These appear to be three Haiku but connected. It is charmingly written and gives a new visual to your camaraderie with nature. The word "Abiding" is one of my favorites so your title is special to me. I think of it as permanence, enduring forever. Your descriptives are captivating, you have evolved into a gracious and talented poet. How about mice? You've chilled us with spiders, charmed us with frogs, taught us about the birds, whales, the sea shore, and on and on. Now take us to the underground- of mice and more mice...ha. Bet you could. Congratulations on your yearly recognition. You are so deserving. Your submissions are always outstanding. Take good care. I'm teasing about the mice...but... My very best, Wanda	2005-01-02 14:26:36
Come Be With Me Like The Rain	Mell W. Morris	Dear Mell, This poem is exquisite. If I could have a wish, I would want him to be with you like the rain. Your poetic skills in this piece are astounding, it actually falls soft on our ears, a song of darkness, of light, of letting go, liquid as tears- we feel the droplets of pain. Your title is a wonderful choice, your verbiage, exciting. This may top your "Every Poem An Autograph" which I thought was an amazing piece. "Foudroyant, Jasm, splendid choices for this poem. I couldn't pick a favorite line, they are all fabulous. I am late in critiquing this but not because I haven't read it over and over. It is brilliantly composed and leaves this reader sure that it should be the winner this month. My best always, Wanda	2005-01-02 06:58:10
I Named Him Ocean For His Father	Rachel A Couch	Dear Rachel, I have read this numerous times, each time giving me an almost different image of what you are saying. This piece has a mystical mood which I enjoy very much. I was caught up in the wonderful title you have chosen. I suggest removing "industrial cookware' from your second stanza. It stops the flow process of that line for me. You might shorten up those lines a bit also. I love inspired poetry, Rachel, and you have given us a fine example of just that. Hard to find favorite lines here, but I am drawn to your last verse as mine. This poem leaves the reader unsure of the outcome tho. I believe the child named "Ocean for his father" is who you are speaking to in your last line. In the reality of your piece, I see a lonely, broken hearted girl, a child held to her breast, perhaps giving thought to drowning as the final solution, since she is no longer afraid. The question about "unknowable love" (at least for me) is being spoken to the ocean. "Can it be me I wonder but you can't know that, you know me as well as I do." I may be far out in left field on all of these comments. However, it has been a pleasure to find this piece. I have so enjoyed your thoughts. Welcome to the site, this submission proves you will be an asset. My very best, Wanda	2004-12-11 12:06:47
The Texture of Blue	Mell W. Morris	Dear Mell, I have been thinking about this poem for several days. It is mell-ve-lous. I love my blue true also. We have been inspired by Vincent-blue but there are many ways of seeing, even hearing the texture of blue. The blue mist that rises over the mountain tops, an exhalation of pale sapphire. My mom's soulful voice rendering Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain. The swell of an open road meeting a morning sky, dawn breaking. The Alabama River when the sun streaks it with silver blue waves. Blueberries just ripe for picking. Wild petunia's by the deck, lavender blue. I'm quite taken by your first stanza. I like the lead it gives this piece. It's really light-hearted and thought provoking. Of course, what would you expect from the color blue? Nothing but perfection- This probably got a nod from GOD. What blue really is- is me after reading this poem. Mell, you are most charming and all the colors of wonderful. Please be feeling better. Much love and good luck, Wanda	2004-12-07 00:47:56
Winter Waltz	Patricia Gibson-Williams	Dear Patricia, This is lovely, lovely. The diary of a snowflake, it seems. Altho you use this font often, it is perfect for this flawless piece. It adds to the sensual grace of falling, the gentle flow of the poem, the reader can almost smell the cold damp air and sense the mystery of falling snow for it is one of earth's most beautiful sights. All the lines are favorites, but I love that you used "ferried" for their delivery to us. That is just a glorious choice of words. Your rhymes are exact, you are an artist at using motion/action in your poems with uncanny accuracy and vision. I really enjoy everything you write. You have ended your downward spiral perfectly with the snowflake's "rise back to Heaven singing praise." I wish you the best, you have a special talent. Always, Wanda	2004-12-03 21:42:16
verse 66 (Stars)	Erzahl Leo M. Espino	Dear Erzahl, This is great descriptive writing. I love the idea of the moon wedding the night. Tell the truth now, it takes as long to write Haiku as a much longer poem. I have some neat thoughts on this but trying to condense them into three lines must be beyond my capabilities. Here's one for you...my small grandson had a hard time saying sunshine and thunder. He loves rainy weather just like I do. He makes us laugh so often giving his interpretation of the weatherman on TV. Shunshine and Tunder Met on a hot Summer day Weatherman at four I am not a Haiku-ess. You have all the power there. Yours are always special, always correct, always winners! This is a special one. Thanks so much for this great piece. Good luck and my best wishes always, Wanda	2004-12-03 21:08:49
Great Blue Heron Sighting	Joanne M Uppendahl	Dear Joanne, It is your true oneness with nature that sees these wonders, "his stilt of neck, his brushstroke head, his painted wings" postured in King and Queen fashion on "limbless stub of water tree." I love to ride the coast line and watch the Snowy Egrets and Little Blue Herons. Egrets are everywhere in the beautiful swamplands and along the coast. It is such a gracious talent that can take this momentary glimpse of nature, transferring in onto paper as the miraculous piece of art it is, using only the poetics of language. You have a kindred spirit you know, in John James Audubon. His prints/artworks are world renowned, because he saw the beauty and transferred it into an art that will never be lost. I believe your nature poems could be taken to that level also. Your themes will always separate in my mind anyway from other poetry on the site because they are selfless, do not offer opinions, your work is so beautiful because you are aware of that freedom, that peace, you have found for yourself in writing about the almost chilling beauty GOD has given us In this way you are praising Him, A lovely and unique gesture. That is my take. Hope you understand what I am saying. I truly admire you and quite a few others on this site. I have never given great critiques, but I am a positive person, and I don't read for errors or rewrites, I search for the core of the poem. I don't offer technical advise, poetry is more than words, it is the poet. I would love to study poetry as you have are as you are doing at present. I do not have the time now but someday, writing will be my priority, it has always been my dream. My goals are set high, as yours are. At present, my book comes first. Much love, best wishes always, Wanda	2004-12-03 02:45:01
Flower haiku #1	Joanne M Uppendahl	Dear Joanne, Another great Haiku. "Rowdy iris leaves", now that's a memory. My dog used to eat those for breakfast. The flower itself made her sneeze but how she loved to cut down those coarse leaves. Your "turquoise skies" gives us a beautiful reflection, and to "later offer gold", a spectacular scene. Your choice of themes for your Haiku, interesting and colorful. I see nothing you could improve. Best always and again, Wanda	2004-10-15 22:40:15
Tree haiku #3	Joanne M Uppendahl	Dear Joanne, I see you've expanded your poetic experiments. This is lovely. Your vision in this piece is fluid, "blossomed trees exhibit mute watercolor sounds," beautifully expressed. Willows are one of my favorite trees, but for some reason, they make me feel lonely. I see you have several Haiku this month. As I have told Erzahl, I am much too long winded. I just have too much to say. For me to squeeze one thought into three lines, well, don't think I can make it happen, which is probably a good thing. You are so talented, Joanne. You must publish, make that lasting impression on the hearts of those who love your work. Best always, Wanda	2004-10-15 21:38:48
Moving On	Joanne M Uppendahl	Dear Joanne, Perfect Fall piece. Here, in the swamps tho, it's tree roaches that nest beneath flower pots. Even frogs don't like them. This inspires me to go out and clean mine for bringing in. Some are too large to move now and we have to wrap them in plastic. I'm always marveled at your oneness with nature. I like to think of myself like that. My mother was a wonder when it came to animals, 12 children, etc. I especially like the idea that you raised the pot in search of a pair of frogs, and that you were disappointed to find they had moved on. I read the first version and liked it also. I think the poem is deserving of a more animated title, although I know where 'Moving On' is coming from after reading the poem, it was not obvious to me at first. In the first stanza, I would remove the line, "holding a mouthful of air." For me, it takes away the mystery in "I raise the heavy planter with care." I love the poem, please don't think I am finding fault. There is never fault with your work, these are just thoughts I had while reading. Best always, Wanda	2004-09-23 07:53:51
japanese verse 60 (Pillow)	Erzahl Leo M. Espino	Dear Erzahl, I can't believe, finally I can comment on a poem not at the bottom of my list. I usually catch them after they've dropped off the page. You just spit 'em out like watermelon seeds. They're always Haiku perfect and the themes you come up with are great. I think that is what I love the most about your work. After you have the theme, you paint the picture so beautifully. Another winner! I'm going to look for my pillow. Take care, and write more. Best, Wanda	2004-09-20 23:50:12
Deep In My Heart Is A Song	Mell W. Morris	Dear Mell, This is musical, like the flow of lovely blue waters, crystal in sunlight, we hear it, see it, and rejoice in it. I live seven miles from the banks of the Mississippi which runs through Baton Rouge. This is not my favorite state, I love the mountains, but I have never been able to express what I feel when I stand looking into that river. This poem comes close. "The people here welcome all who come with pure heart and no ploy to destroy the land. I feel flooded with peace and grace like the stream which brought me." This ends like the marvelous song it is, the realization of a "medullary moment" truly "close to the bone." It is triumphant, a winner in spiritual awareness. When these moments happen to me, I always feel I have come to know myself better. Best of luck this month. This made me feel good! Always, Wanda	2004-09-19 11:18:38
The Man In The Window	Ms.Kim Shumaker	Dear Ms.Kim Shumaker: This is a wonderful thought for a song. Your words are sincere, and filled with passionate belief. I too understand the story your mother told, I was taught in the same way. I also believe there are angels among us, that kindness to one another is essential to our own relationship with G-d. This poem so gently conveys that message, I am truly touched. The only change I can suggest is the shortening of some of the lines to make it easier to read, the words themselves are superlative. Emotion about life gives us something to live for. I hope all your plans work out for this piece. It is deserving of recognition. Best of luck, Wanda	2004-09-19 10:28:32
She's...	Patricia Gibson-Williams	Dear Patricia, After reading this, I feel pretty lucky being a She, scrumptious all over. Regarding your question, I think wrapped is the better word. Rapt leaves one thinking that "Spiraling curls leave me rapt.(sounds like the line ends) Round fingers that dance through my soul." Wrapped would bring together the four lines. Just my thoughts though. You always write such devine, sensual poems with absolute clarity and passion. I always enjoy your work. You write with a fresh pen- images that most cannot conjure up, at least, I could not. I must go, I might have to use my own She powers to comfort the better half if LSU loses the ballgame...haha. Take good care. This is a great piece. My best always, Wanda	2004-09-18 17:06:12
Big Catch	Claire H. Currier	Dear Claire, Delighted to see your latest, spontaneous and natural makes it fresh and interesting. A childhood memory well worth the saving. At least you didn't catch an old army boot. Must have been a huge turtle. I screamed when you mentioned worms and snack in the same breath, guess I'm not a fisherwoman. I couldn't hook one, clean one, and then eat one. I'd have to lose the first two steps or the last one would be impossible. Sounds like you had a fine time with your dad, you write it so naturally like it was just yesterday. It has such warmth, really gives us a feel of what it must have been like on the boat that night. I so enjoyed this. You should submit more often. Hope you are well. Take good care. Best always, Wanda	2004-09-15 00:13:06
4 Fleck of the Sun	Jana Buck Hanks	Dear Jana, "Red birds haunt the trees," I love that line. This is a devine little Haiku, from the first word to the last, it seems to be one single thought, goodbye to summer. Makes me think of maybe Alabama, lots of goldenrods and thistles, red birds, scrumptious sun and warm souls. There is nothing to change about this, it is perfect just as it is. This is a lovely poem, almost the color of fall. Best this month and always, Jana Wanda	2004-09-14 06:55:47
Listen For The Shout	marilyn terwilleger	Dear Marilyn, This is an awesome piece, so inspiring. Your words do have weight in this day and time. It seems a lot have forgotten there is a force within us that can take us down a different path, guide us to a safer place. We have to listen tho and because of hate, greed, and prejudice, we stifle that voice, can't hear the shout. How I wish that would change. We need it now more than ever. Your poem is an inspiration to us as a whole, a truth we need to hear. Having read all of your work, I believe your human spirit must be quite intact, magnificent, in fact. Thanks for such thought provoking words. My best always, Wanda	2004-09-12 21:32:30
ILLINOIS	Mark D. Kilburn	Dear Mark, This brought tears to my eyes. It expresses just how I feel about my own family, my mother and siblings. I remember those days when "memories and dreams" were being made. I must give you praise for "ever grateful for the love that I've been shown." That is my favorite line. I like your format, different, for me it brings all points into view and makes me understand your feelings so well. Best of luck! Wanda	2004-09-12 20:56:11
japanese verse 58 (Rooster)	Erzahl Leo M. Espino	Dear Erzahl: I see you are still the master of Haiku-ing. One might think there is nothing poetic about those chunky little bodies set on bird legs, but guess they can inspire a poem. I wrote about a wayward old hen myself. I am not able to collect a single thought (like this perfect one) and write about it in only three lines. You are just great at it and I hope you are planning to publish soon, I have seen so many wonderfully themed Haiku that you have submitted. You have more than enough. You have added such a positive influence to this site. Your spirit shines, always, in your words and actions. I wish things would pick up for TPL, I'm hoping to get back to it also. I have been writing, just not all poetry. Good luck to you, as always. Best, Wanda	2004-09-04 13:47:33
The Hand that Fills Your Cup	Joanne M Uppendahl	Dear Joanne: What a marvelous title for this piece. The poem itself seems to breathe, makes peace almost perceivable to the ear, inspires it in the reader. As you word-paint, the birds come to life, we see the same magic that you did in that moment. A true writer's gift. Each line is perfection, but surely, you know the two I adore. I haven't missed out on anyone's work, I still read all my favorite poets here. Take care. Best to you always, Wanda	2004-08-31 21:56:48
Becoming Acquainted With Bly	Mell W. Morris	Dear Mell, I love his "Morning Poems". especially the way they came to be, writing one each morning before getting out of bed. Is that the life or what? This poem takes on its own life, is cleverly written so that we get a birdseye view of the little idiosyncrasies that Bly possessed. I enjoy his work, I think of it as intense simplicity. Your poem is delightful in it's truth...and fiction. I'm glad you posted it. I enjoy your work so much. I hope you are feeling better. Best always, Wanda	2004-08-30 23:54:33
japanese verse 33 (Snow Capes)	Erzahl Leo M. Espino	Dear Erzahl, If you're a kid riding a long distance in the middle seat of the vehicle, you tend to drift out the windshield and into those marshmallow clouds. Watching clouds until they turned into something or someone, imagination goes wild. I kept myself quiet like that for long rides. I had to sit up front, otherwise, my brothers heckled me to death. Are you a brother? Mine were wonderful. Don't you wonder why "they" spelled marshmallow with an a instead of mellow. Mellow seems so much more what we are trying to say, but guess Webster knows best. All that to say, your analogy of a snow cape is both interesting and appropriate. I can see this poem. As always you have recharged my love of Haiku. I have always enjoyed reading this form of poetry, but when you began your parade of 17 sylable wonders, my interest became much keener. I admire greatly the skill it takes to write such succinct pieces and still make it a visual for others to take with them. Good luck this month and always. Have a very happy and wonderful New Year. Wanda	2004-01-01 11:25:26
Visions of Yesterday	Claire H. Currier	Dear Claire: What precious memories you share for your mother. Claire, you create a real picture here of the past, your father, life when it was really good for her. I hope you read it over and over aloud so that she can enjoy it and remember. Holidays bring back our memories quite naturally, but if the loved one died on or near a holiday, it seems to touch us even more each year. It is not often that you share your wonderful viewpoints with us, your life stories. I was happy to see another entry from you. Your work has a peaceful, calming power to it, due to the gracious poet herself. Great piece! Best of luck. Love and Happy New Year! Wanda	2004-01-01 03:45:43
Country Pumpkin	Claire H. Currier	Dear Claire: What a smile catcher this is. Indeed, country life is most fitting for the finest. "Who is the hunter and the huntee" made me giggle and it's two-fifteen on New Year's morning. I laughed at the phrase, "dead as a doornob." We used to say dumb as a doornob and dead as a doornail. It is so good to see you submitting. This is the perfect ending to my night. I have been up with grandchildren and their friends to watch the new year come in. This has been my first chance to get to the computer and participate at all this month. This poem reminds me of driving in one night to find long-legged raccoons in my flower bed, their eyes, bright and beady, absolutely scared us to death. They were taller than I could ever imagine a raccoon being. I was told they had long legs like that because they were city raccoons and ate from dumpsters so they had to be tall...oh well. Best wishes for a wonderful New Year. May life get better and better for you. Love, Wanda	2004-01-01 03:29:29
The Other Side	Mell W. Morris	Dear Mell, Although I have read all of your work always, I have participated less lately due to health issues. It is with pleasure that I am up to commenting on this poem. I would never think of calling anything I say a critique, but I when I comment, it is with the emotion that the piece wrung out of me. This one did just that because I relate also to old bridges, etc., those things we only see now in artwork or history books. On accasion when I have been off in the countryside, in the mountains perhaps, I have come across just such a picture as you describe, "old wooden, spavined spans that rattle as I pass", no longer used, always posted: keep off, dangerous crossing, and my heart sees it as it must have been years ago. I understand how old bridges are regarded as favorite subjects by so many artists. Your musical treatment of slant/internal rhyme is marvelous indeed and most of your poetry seems to long for an instrument to accompany the words. Alabama was blessed with beautiful rivers and little crooked streams (rills) that trench into and out of the larger bodies of water. They spill over rocks and moss covered soil, an absolutely joyous playground. Happily, there was always a bridge to "The Other Side." Your poem reminded me of one in particular that I was fond of, thank you so much. Happy Sunday! Good luck this month! Wanda	2003-11-23 13:15:20
japanese verse 31 (Twilight)	Erzahl Leo M. Espino	Erzahl, Brilliant image of a sunset. I love your choice of words to portray what I automatically think of as a southern sunset. I agree with the "scandalous flame" descriptor, we shy away from IT, closed in with our A/C's and books of poetry. Your skill with this form of poetry has evolved right here on TPL. You have mastered it beautifully and never are we disappointed in your exquisite submissions. This ranks with the best and I am happy to know you. You put your spirit out there to share, and what a spirit it is, notably alive here...in this lovely piece. A marvelous line, "The sun shies away." Good luck this month. Best always, Wanda	2003-11-23 12:33:07
Tsa-ga-gla-tal	Joanne M Uppendahl	Dear Joanne, sure glad I don't have to pronounce this word. I much prefer "she who watches." Your descriptive powers are at work here, love the "Full Beaver Moon" and almost wish that it was she, who watches. Wouldn't that be cool? Picture a wo-man in the moon. What I enjoy so much about your work is your love of nature, your pleasure in the simplicity of just being. This poem is alive with life and yet there is a subtle lonliness, a lovely dark side to it. At 5am this morning, the moon was a sliver, a thin quarter moon, made me think of a mime's phantom grin. Always a joy to read your poetry. Wonderful piece! Best always, Wanda	2003-11-21 22:20:23
acrostic 1 (Wishful Thinking)	Erzahl Leo M. Espino	Hi Erzahl, I've missed commenting on your work, however, I have read them all. I read every poem that is submitted. I haven't been able to type due to a neck and shoulder problem. I have sorely missed TPL'ers tho. I see you are trying something different here with an Acrostic. I like this form, just don't give up your wonderfully creative Haiku. Good title here, the format, interesting and unique, beginning each word, rather than each line. Somehow, it seems more connected written in this way. I read this several times before I was able to get the true depth of your words. I am always amazed at how sensitive and revealing your work is. You were intended to write poetry. Best of luck this month and always, Wanda	2003-11-19 23:34:11
Haiku	Drenda D. Cooper	Hi Drenda, Hope you have been well. I find this to be one of the hardest forms of poetry, yet you have aced it with this gem. What a true statement it is. When we look back, we see the cycle of life as it makes the circle, rounds the corner of our minds and hearts. This time, though, we are perhaps more ready, more willing, a lot more understanding. God has given us the power of "silent reflections" as a learning tool. For all of my horribly sad memories, I have a million happy ones, each giving a life lesson. I am thankful for them all. Your poem is concise, to the Haiku point, you might say. One of my favorite concepts also. I hope to be back soon. I've missed TPL and all the fine poets and you are amongst the finest. Best always, Wanda	2003-11-19 07:32:52
Finding Hope	Rick Barnes	Dear Rick, Such a fitting piece for the season. I can relate well to the image of stark limbs outstretched and upward. How this scene could denote hope is obvious to me as well as the northern bird. Sometimes women have their colors done and once when this was a fad, I learned I was winter. I knew that already about myself but loved having it confirmed. This poem reminded me so much of a winter in North Carolina. The news had announced a big ice storm on the way, everyone was stressing over the roads, etc. I had never seen a real ice storm. It came. We had a lot of trees around our house, standing naked- and as you are pointing out here, presenting themselves, completely vulnerable to the elements with arms widespread. When I walked out on my deck the next morning, I didn't even breath for several moments, I was totally awestruck at the beauty. My trees stood, clothed in ice, they were diamond trees, shimmering in the sun. That picture was fixed in my soul for a lifetime. There was ice from every tip to the ground, I have my pictures still of that day. I have to explain that miracles mean different things to different people. To me, I could only class that vision as a miracle. Not twenty minutes after I took the pictures, I slid off the deck, nearly breaking my neck, while teasing my lab, Cheyenne, with a sausage biscuit. Guess I deserved it. Anyway, I haven't been able to participate on the site due to a ruptured disk in my neck and even worse, rotator cuff problems. I'm trying to avoid surgery with therapy and rest. Your poem was uplifting to me. Right now, I need hope myself. Thanks for the memory. You have such a talent for words and getting to the heart of the matter. Some people take all day to make a point, like me...ha! Take good care and never stop writing. Wanda	2003-11-16 10:39:10
Poem Title	Poet Name	Critique Given by Wanda S. Thibodeaux	Critique Date

Displaying Critiques 51 to 96 out of 96 Total Critiques.
Click one of the following to display the: First 50 ... Previous 50 ... Last 50 Critiques.

If you would like to view all of Wanda S. Thibodeaux's Poetry just Click Here.

Click HERE to return to ThePoeticLink.com Database Page!