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Below you will see ALL of the Critiques that Joanne Duval Morgan has given on The Poetic Link.
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Click HERE to return to ThePoeticLink.com Database Page!Displaying Critiques 1 to 50 out of 222 Total Critiques.
|Poem Title||Poet Name||Critique Given by Joanne Duval Morgan||Critique Date|
|A Leaf Blooms In Maine||Rick Barnes||Oh Rick, I love the last quartraine, it's great using leaf for leaving, it just rings with such a pun, yetits placement is worthy of the poet you truly are. It's a neatly worded word, it creates drama, wondering what possibly can be next, and you take it to the etreme. It just makes sense to me, and I love the projection. Once again you write a poem of poem, carrying sensation, a lot of feeling contained, and it's so unique, I've commented on many of your works, but in my book this time you outdid yourself, and his poem deserves merit.Place, sensation, emotion, wow. When leaf no longerleaves, sums up the intent so well, great job my friend...congratulations. Best regards always...JoMorgan||2005-03-23 08:43:01|
|The Sea and Me||marilyn terwilleger||Hi Marilyn, This poem demonstrates all the characteristics of the power of the sea, yet it creates of the tranquility one preceives in partaking of the peace, put in a sloop one would feel the power, laid ack and unafraid one would enjoy the calming effect the sea will have on the spirit and soul of the individuality. You didn't go for rhyming sequences but you achieve all the nuances of sensation, thought, and eaisly you brought the reader along, enjoying the sensation and experiece, so you achieved your goal with this poem. I enjoyed rading, thinking and feeling in rememerance of the feeling the sea brings into me, so I think your approach was more then majestic, it was absolutely fanacating, and I thank you for all the experiences this poem held for me personally, esides your drama, the linguistics and the projection were right on, nice job. Hope you are well always, Love Jo||2005-03-23 07:47:24|
|For Heroes Who Now Lie Asleep||Sean Donaghy||Hello Sean....wonderful, the rhyme you achieve in each corresponding line is beyond belief, it moves so sommothly, the cadence is sure and deliberate, you have achieved a wonderful oem, that soothes me, and makes me glad I read about Appolonia's grief for her loved one, but speaks of all young souls lost, in war unhearalded, regardless of the Kings Presidents and rulers)vow. I believe this poem maintains its intent so very well, and I applaud your poetic ability. It's a lovely poem...I commend this effort to probably be one of the poems that has achieved its poetic approach, 100% fold....Congratulation, what rhythm beyond belief, for the soul of man. Best regards...JoMorgan||2005-03-22 23:16:26|
|Yearning||Gene Dixon||Hi Gene, I like this sonnet very much, I did stumble with your first line and wondered if you wanted to use your or it was a type when you would continue the cadence, all the other nuances you contain in the poem are very well taken, and move with fluency. Other then the first line stumble the remaining lines flow flow wonderfully well. A very well written sonnet. Hope you are doing well after surgery, pulling for you, and sending prayers your well, Leader of we trolls. Always best wishesw....Jo Mo (ye ole Troll Du Jour)||2005-03-22 13:15:08|
|Damn||John Dean||Oh John, what rhythm, and rhyming, and near rhymn, the cadence (flow just moves so smoothly from line to line, keeping the message (intent) of the poem, your pen, unnecessary for it's as if poems can write themselves, while the poet is held captive knowing that he/she wants to write, yet persistent objects you site are written with a strength and projection that is unbelievable. I really admire this poem, it's application to all who presue writing, Damn a title well exclaminatory in it's own right, and this poem penned by a true poet. Wonderful job, like I said heck of an applicable title, congratulations on a poem well penned....Best always, Jo Morgan||2005-03-20 11:45:12|
|My Old Friend||Kenneth R. Patton||Interesting Ken, to see a poem so aptly describe depression. What I like is the sembalance of how you phased the pain that accompanies depression. You draw a great mental image for the reader, where one is left with all nuances of what depression is all about. Yes, dehabilating to say the least, and many suffer from this malady, at least once, or maybe emore when the medical community finally understands it's a viable illness. Yes, the phrasing is perfect, the style applicable, sets the mood with great sensation and is emotional. You wrote a fine poem even though it was rejected inatially because of the word curl. (silly to think that would be a key word for rejection), it's amazing the word had never been used ein all the poetry TPL has received. It's a moving poem, and you make the reader feel the pain, the exhaustieon, all the sensations. A poem that creates a very descriptive picture. Easy I guess when one has experienced the mood, you caught it all. Best always, Jo Morgan||2005-03-14 09:55:58|
|A Captive Bird||marilyn terwilleger||Hi Marilyn, Rhyme, rhythm and what a great flowing cadence, your end rhyme placement is xcellent. Like a bird aching to be free from emotional hurt, but realizies the improbabability. Wow, hear rendering,, maybe with more then a touch of reality, a life experience expressed in wonderful poetic form. Many times when a special day, or something that reminds me of Bernie, I feel this way also, never a relief, and it's a way of emotional hurt, noone can really identify with. I love the way you use a metaphor in the bird, for circumstance, to take place of the persona that's emotional in turmoil. Sentiment, shows throuout the poem, and as I said heart rendering....wonderful encounter. Best always, Love, Jo||2005-03-10 11:54:03|
|Remaining Superior||Mell W. Morris||Yes, I caught that essence in the last stanza, but Mell honestly singuarly I've see all the oddities, however never having been to Gitchee Goome (Lake Superior), I can visualize from your great descriptive, the environment, even the nuances of history you speak of. Interesting poem, with a cadence that is great, and an unbelieveable story line. Only you Mell if I may use the language of the day, are right on with this poem, and once again your usage of the English language isn't equaled by anyone else here. I find the poem to be outstanding and written by a true artist. We'll never return to the use of proper wenglish, however poets such as yourself send constant reminders of what sentence structure and linguistics consist of, I really enjoy that show alone. It is a mood setting oem loaded with great sensation. Congratulations another masterpiece....Love Jo Mo||2005-03-09 19:21:51|
|BUGS AND GIVERS||Mark D. Kilburn||Mark, what a layout, party now, pay the premium later. Yes choices, but we turn a blind eye to much, don't react positively when it'salled for. The turmil that effects us all, I'd rather be the gift Giver, you know why it's the easier route, and I know you have to pay the piper for everything that happens, and the choices we make. A deep pom, written with a certainty, to write it indicates to me you're a gift give, because that's the belief in all the savior has created. You didn't miss anything, but partying constantly only puts off the eventual, it's all choices. Best, heck of a submission....Jo Mo||2005-03-07 01:59:39|
|Somewhere in the back of my mind I hear a melody||Leo Wilder||Hi Leo, Somewhere I Heard a Melody, ironic parady, from the goodness to reality, but always music soothing the person, I loe the comparitives, strong, forceful for the reality, warm and soothing for the gentle music, yes, I guess we automatically draw comparisions, but you went one step furthur you presented, and projected it in a way, that brings retroactive thought, and one goes back, and knows we all hear melody's, and most are comparitives. You presented some interesting music and the rhyming and rythm, the flow is great, it's an enjoyed poem to read, and now it's stuck in my brain, I doubt I'll forget this poem. I like admire, admire you wrote a parady concerning all the attributes you listed. It's a fitting poem for this time of our lives, and you did it with a great flair, drawing the reader in....Great. Good Luck, Best always....JOMo||2005-03-06 11:20:21|
|Rights||Mark D. Kilburn||You know Mark, I know what the Second amendment stands for, and that's fine, howerever this parody point out just why handguns are bad, in the hands of angry, distraught, and just individuals who put their needs over others and do what they do to get even, so anger should be a part of this padody. Everyday we seee examples of individuals who abridge the law, and take lives randomally. So this strong submission really carries the message, what rights are we concerned with, those that special interests groups advocate, are they really affecting the general populace, don't know, but I do know hand guns in the wrong hands is a big argument for not having hand guns. You wrote quite a poem here, the layout is excellent, the projection super strong.....I'm against guns for just the reasons you cite in your poem; in the wrong hands they create disasters of untold grief, andaffect all individuals associated with the person breaking the law. Just the way I feel, but have to admit this poem is right on, and speaks a universal language, and brings to light wh shouldn't allow handguns. They arn't used in hunting forays for animals, they kill people,and we don't need a segement of society that place many in jepody....strong poem, written well, but an earth shaking truth..............the days of the gun being the answer has long past, this isn't the old west, no war of a civil nature...so why are these hand guns necessary? See brings out more questions then answers, but we shake our heads and wonder why someone used a handgun to settle a score, why are we so angry? A thinking poem, can't ask for anyhing more.....best Jo Mo||2005-03-05 17:57:56|
|She-Who-Dreams||Joanne M Uppendahl||Mother Earth caught up strongly in this poem, it definately has that Indian Flavor, and presents wonderfully well. You caught all the nuances Joanne, per usual you project wonderfully well, and I love the quiet sembelance of this poem, and really admire Indian beliefs. Parched earth, calling for rain, to make everything grow, then the night fire of seeing the distant glow of planets in our solar system. You left out nothing, and it's great with that Title, that alone Indicates Indian flavor. Great job, enjoyable from the pen of our resident poetress....love it. Love, God Kissed this earth and sent Mother Earth as our guardian....Jo Mo (Better Late then never, huh?)||2005-03-05 12:00:22|
|verse 69 (Thunder)||Erzahl Leo M. Espino||Erzahl, didn't think I'd ever get to your haiku, sure glad I have finally made it, my month has been stymed by feeling under the weather, and there were a lot of poems to read and catch up by the absence of being unable to sit at the computer and type, feel better now, I guess the upside is presenting itself, so I'm glad I'm able to comment. I love haiku, it simple application of count and the poets ability to make it meaningful,and present it for the enjoyment of the reader, you caught this one beautifully. I lived in the Lighting capital of the U.S where it thundered and sparks flew from powerful bolts of lighting. Three lines, the first two very descriptive, but the closing line powerful, and I like the assemulation of thunder being equated to a drummer, I picture big kettle drums here, and it leaves me with the images of lighting and thunder, but your linguistics are great, and the poem is very powerful. Once again E. you prove your the King of haiku on TPL, and this poem didn't disappoint, and it maintain a cadance, and intent as presented in the Title (whick we know in transitation of newer haiku in deference to traditional haiku), you carried it off once again, and I'm so glad I could finally comment....Great once again!! Best always, Jo Mo haiku||2005-03-04 23:19:24|
|Outside My Window||Patricia Gibson-Williams||Oh my Patricia, what despair to have this dream, to know it's an impossible dream. From my window, literally your placement in the grand snheme of life, despair to want, but to know it will never happen. I love th title, but understand it's a metahor to dream to wish but dreams that never materlize. I know infertility can be one of the most dehablitating positions, to want that daughter, to see through dreams (while even awake), the beauty of this child, but mostly I'm left with the impression of hurt, and disappointment. So many women have infertility problems, but those that want that child so bad, well it's a real hurting place. Your presentation is strong, it brigs home the plight, and the hurt, and speaks a truth, thiose of us that concieved (you know Specialist told me I'd never have children, my Uterus was upside down, so seeing a sperm sucessfully make the trip was impossible, but God worked a mericle for I ending up with 3 pregnancies, but each one became more difficult, my last child they thought would be born stillborn, pragnancy well it's tought, and when I was on the delivery table and they told me they could hear a heart beat from the baby, I prayed and I never used God that way, my belief is that it's God's will, but I didn't want a stillborn baby, not after nine months, and God heard my prayers for Eric was born breech, feet first face up, a big baby (that saved his life the fact he was so robust, and he lived, and I could breath again), so I know how not being able to have children could affect a woman, and you prest it in a projection that makes the reader aware)..Wonderful job, sorry this is so late I've been very ill and I'm trying to catch up on the poetry, but you tit;r stopped me cold, and I read, and am amazed you have been able to present a beautiful poem, although sad, not to be. Great job...Love Jo Mo||2005-03-04 19:27:31|
|Why We Sing......||Paul R Lindenmeyer||Paul I can feel the sound of the massive pipes, I can see committment from a man that spoke to God through his love of music, I see in my minds eye this quiet man leading his Choir of 500 (huge choir), and I sense how he felt and saw, and lived through his music. You draw a persona the will affect many who love music, and see Heaven through music, talking to god, and seeing Heavens delights. You commerate a fine tribute to a man who lived his music, was committed to all presentations, and the project is right on, with a nice flow. I tried critiquing this a while ago but for some reason my computer shut down on me, and I lost the critique. I have no suggesions, you know why, each of us writes throught feelins sustained by memory, and they are your words. You draw a visual image of the Choir Master, and how he lived through his music, I wish him peace in Gods hands, and he is still leading a Choir of Angels, and Giod is swaying to the beat. Sorry this is late and probably inadaquate, but losing the first draft is always difficult, to repeat each and every thought, but one doesn't have to for they understand the meaning of this tribute, it's a wonderful projection with a certain cresendo and the pipes speaking the love of God. Wonderful, as always, Jo Mo||2005-03-04 19:09:14|
|The Rose||marilyn terwilleger||Oh yes Mailyn, anyone who is a people watcher sees those exat traits in the homeless, it seems to be their rose has dimished, and only death will free them to eternal happiness. You speak universally in this poem, all apt descriptions, and the presentation is great. It's a wonderful but very sad plight you present in this poem. The irony many circumstances have created the Homiless people we see, and I believe that a very fibe line makes many affluent, and a fine line makes for homiless, anyone can be susceptable to the plight you present. Strong descriptives on physical attire, and persa affected, you're done a great job with the projection....good show. my best..Love..Jo Mo (sorry this took so long but I've been really sick for soe reason, unable to respond before now, sorry.)||2005-03-04 17:49:14|
|Becoming Spring||Joanne M Uppendahl||I have no choice but to say whatever I read written by you makes my spirits rise. No preference Joanne either or. Actually I'm sitting here trying to comment and my nose is dripping all over my key board. Just my word or two, I ponder Spring also and can't wait for all the glorious feeling cited in this poem. Everything on TPL stopped for me this month, terrible malaise has settled here, the weather if foul, the sun infrequent. Housebound unable to even jaunt out on the scooter. Winter doldrumsare assailing me badly, so you poem brings a measure of comfort and affirmation thatindeed Spring will be here shortly. Thank Goodness, I've been through a lot of winters but non that has taken it's toll like this one. Hope you're well, and keep writing, I'm reading just unable to sit and concentrate enough. God Bless, be well....Love, Jo (no critique really just commenting.)||2005-03-03 16:03:56|
|Politics and Prayers||Gene Dixon||Hi Gene, Nice movement to the way this poem reads, terrific projection, it encapsulates the current trend; collateriel damage in many way, flaunting power to achieve ones means to an end, but where are we in this mess, left to praye to our Maker, to righten this ship, being steered erratically, with conscience disreard for the whole, splintered, used, thrown away, yet searching for that almight buck or power. This is what we are being forced to live with, politics or belef, I rue the day, may forethought of actions take sway, may this ship out of control with misused power come back on course, maybe not in my lifetime, but eventually. It's a strong projection using poetry, but then havn't many poems such as this managed to carry the flavor of what, why, when, where, and what's the ultimate goal, not taking the best interest of the whole, for isn't that what's happened here, misuse of power while parading under the guise of belief, when does the balance return, if ever. Poltics seems nasty, when one speaks out of both sides of the mouth, is that in the best interest of the whole, or just a selective few? Time will tell, but the dirt will follow us, all because of misuse and an unbalanced belief. Jo Mo (right or wrong Gene we've slid into a morass of power at any price. Is it best those that have rule over the less fortunate, creating this disturbing imbalance all the way around. What hipcrosy in a way pray to God, turn around and create mayhem. Certain irony.)||2005-02-20 11:18:07|
|With A Certain Humming In My Ears||Mell W. Morris||I have that certain humming in my ears right now, a dusty very quiet esistence, I know that's called being driven crazy by self association, my voice cords break when on the occassion someone speaks to me, for most of a handicapped day is alone, with not even the sound of your own voice. Pascal got it right, his formulated hyponois, maybe the solution at least it could provide a self of being in the world, would proper phychosis help, don't know, doubt it, company alone would take care of some of these issues. Greal summary entailed in this poem that catches all the nuances, that I certainly can identify with. Being unable to walk my box has shrunk, I imagine yours has also, thus your ability to phrase and project this poem. Admire your spirit though, I don't even feel like writing, funny state indeed, but you know what no one has the answers but me really, and this poem leads into that beautifully, for admitting one needs psychosis is aditting a problem, I'd rather keep pulling myself up by the bootstraps, and stay busy with such as a great poem by Mello. So true, so factual, so being there, huh? Love...Jo Mo||2005-02-19 20:56:27|
|Understanding Dali||Gene Dixon||Hi Gene, Love it, what an interesting take on Dali. I too have studied his art, and wondered where these concepts were coming from, if nothing Dali is always a way in discussion. His person kind of matches his art, yet do we really understand how another's mind works, and the concepts that take shape, the difference being he painted this on canvas, and left lasting memories in the Id's of many, me included. Very abstract, wierd and unusual take on really every day items. A fact when I was in Hospital in 1998, and in ICU for many days, the round universal looking clock on my wall, seemed to run down, to drip uncontrollable, scary in a way, for as I tried to righten my ship this clock interefered with my straight and narrow, so in a way I can understand his painting the way he did, a new school of thought, a new projection, abstract art is difficult at the most to comprend. As far as the poem goes excellent, I'm left with measured projection, great verbiage, and factual proof as to how he presents, in the person and in his art. Amazing isn't it, like the Great Masters his unique approach is last, his images certainly are, and this poem caught it all beautifully. Gives me the shivers to see in my minds's eye that clock melting, and the lobster, but who's to say it wasn't a bizarre concept at work. Interesting both the poem and the art, Thanks much ....... Jo Mo||2005-02-19 16:34:19|
|Reunion||Joanne M Uppendahl||Beautiful memories leave a poet with wonderful sentiment memories, and a aura of the peoron that ceated those memories. One is aware of what you speak, for I remember handmade soap, and a kitchen where feasts of food prevailed, and the stories that were imbibed and never forgotten. That's what you created in this great poem, and in retrospect it sends me back to a time, and to a little woman, always dressed in an apron (as were all French women of the time). Memories stories to rise and create a warm glow of memories, right down to the cry together, yes we would you know (although I lost my Memere in 1958, thememories are etched in my makeup, and I wouldn't change any one of them. It was the age of innocense never to be relived, for we go through life, and sometimes all we have are the memories. The love shows through in your writing, and undoubtly she made a very heavy impression on your spirit, and you caught her persona and made the reader feel the kitchen, sense the smells, and recognize women back then had only just gotten the right to vote, it was a time of transitation, a lovely innocent time when Grandchildren got to know the Grandparents, and remember all those memories. Needless to say I enjoyed this poem a great deal, you captured what I feel is the essence of love. Great going.....Love, Jo Mo||2005-02-12 23:17:21|
|Dreamer's Legacy||Jennifer Wilmot-Lavigne||Jennifer, I love the sentiment, and the allagory to your Dad, a carbon copy. He would be pleased. The pen on paper draw a fitting tribute to your Dad, a man of every day circumstance. The ritual of moring the coofee, the cigrette (cI can see the plume of smoke emitted from each of your cigarettes). my ritual was a copycate of my Dad's, as a kid I'd get up very early and each moring he made me oatmeal, and even allowed a cup of coffee, consisting mostly of milk. His values became mine, and still are to this day. My Dad was my Daddy and we never bored, nor tired of each others rethoric. So this is a fitting, well penned, and projected poem. (May I give my concolences on his passing, but you know what he's up there smiling at you right now. God Bless him) So I find the poem sentimental, emotional and brimming with personality, and sad, but it makes me smile for my Dad passed in '95', but each day it's as if he is still with me. Beautiful sentiments, with a strong persona....Best regards, Jo Morgan||2005-02-12 19:26:12|
|I Can hear Humming Bird Wings||marilyn terwilleger||Yes, yes, all that sound that becomes apparent when one almost enters the door to eternity. Suddenly all the senses are awakened, one no long walks a straight and narrow, they see the beauty of Up, understand how difficult it is to live down, suddenly they become aware of ever sound, usually one doesn't hear, but when a near death exerience occurs, all the senses, and the beauty of all that encompasses our world become that real. Your poem speaks it very well Marilyn, and it's not difficult to understand the ebb and flow one is experiencing, and poems like this may make it possible for those that walk with their heads in the clouds, that even the clouds speak, the rain, even the quietness of snow speaks, little creatures beguile and one becomes more aware, yes, you caught the flow, and in your writing it becomes is real, for those that experienced they know now, many don't, but many do. Nice smooth flow, with wonderful lyrics, unusual theme (unless one has experienced it), yep, my dear, you caught it all. If there are lots of typos, 1. can't see properly 2. lousy typist...Ha Ha (laugh ok) in all in a terrific poem, my best, keep writing, your growth has been wonderful...Love Jo Mo||2005-02-12 17:16:24|
|The Winter of 04||Lennard J. McIntosh||Whew!! Take about frigid sensations, sounds like s storm to remember (I do remember it believe me) Aside from a frigid storm, you caught the heartache, the fear, living without electricity/telephone, snow poled up, and continued to fall, giving no quarter. The poem caught all the nuances, and left the reader feeling the discomfort. No pearly, flashy termanology needed, ordinary language laid out systematically, each word building into a final burst that makes the reader feel all the sensations and drive a picture of what it looked like. Yes the Winter of 04 was a storm to cover immense areas and leaving noone from the Central to the Norteast feeling the discomfort of it all. Great descriptives, using the 04 Storm ungrains its effect of a time frame, and the words will long outlive the writer, it's one of those keepers. Best regards, Jo Morgan||2005-02-09 19:43:48|
|Shakespeare Lining the Birdcage||James Edward Schanne||Oh what a pun James, to write a great sonnet, theme using Shakesperan writing to line a bird cage. It's really harilous you know. What a great job at the style, as the beat goes on, to me it met all the requirements of a cadence, using iambic pentameter, or as Elizabeth Barret Browning very close, the pun is great, the form is great. What more can one say of one of the hardest styles to write, as they say about EBB, mighty darn close, you play with the mind. Enjoyable to me, and as cute as the devil, if the devil can be precieved to be cute, HA Ha. Nice job, enjoyable and for one really unable to write sonnets..Gr....eat!!!!! Best, Jo Morgan three quatrains, and a couplet, wonderful.||2005-02-09 19:18:15|
|The Problem With Angles||Mell W. Morris||Wow! We are creatures ordained to lie our fate, and evidently you have been able to define a stage that only you can identify. The closest I came come to related in words is simple, Angels we are, at birth born alone, escvept for that Guardian Angel, to live the fate decreed to walk the mortal path, embracing all the rudiments of what man/woman consider normal fate, the final stage, that Angel that guided us through the middle stage, is replaced by a final Angel that will see us on our final trip, and then we too hoint the host of Angels. Mell there is a melconaly air to this poem, and a reality accepted, and appreciated by me, for I also am in that final stage so I can identify easily. The timber, and cadence of the proclaimation is strong, the reality accepted. Your use of linguistics blows my mind, oh I understand the termalogy, just the phrasing is apt, and well applied. My Angel tells me that this isn't an easy time for you, but being the strong woman you are you will suceed in completeing your fate. Look it's apparent in every word this poem states. Love it of course, and so relieved to see the poem, for that says so much in itsself. God Bless Friend/Girl, know we don't speak often, but I think of you all the time. The way the winds blows my fate is ordained, and in this poem you sound it so well. Love Jo (We are born alone, surrounding by people we can still be alone, and God knows we die alone. Amen||2005-02-09 18:07:59|
|Perfecting Praise||Latorial D. Faison||Latorial, This poem of praise is a hymn, I picture loving God, raising hands in supplication, just feeling good knowing and accepting he is always there. I see bodies swaying to a timber of a beat continained in the rhythm of this poem you know, singing praise, it's wonderful to me to read, it clean, concise and holds sensation. No kidding, as I type this I hear a midred of voices, mens, womens, childrens raised in praise, so as such the poem affects me as if hearing a hymn, for me the poem contains all the elements. I realize this is Black History month, and without judgement I appreciate the purity this poem conveys, none of us are perfect, but we stive to pay homage when sen through strife and hard times, because I acknowledge his prescence and raise my voicein raise, Thank you Lord for the good, for helping me carry the burden, for without you I would have stumbled....Great praise you write...God Bless He's always with you....Jo Mo, love is the motovition that keeps unity, and makes praise automatic, that's what this poem signify's to me, Love, Jo Mo||2005-02-08 15:48:05|
|Red Feather||marilyn terwilleger||You know Marilyn in college I was an Art History Major, I studied all the old masters, and even delved into Native Art, interpertations by White Men who captured the spirit of Native Culture. What I read in this well written poem, was personification of a soon to be worrier, young and vulnerable, and aching to prove his manhood, but the descriptives in this poem, gave a sense of being, motion, emotion, action catching all the nuances of a wonderful frame of pictures, in action. Brave, undaunted and not really understanding how vunerable he would be up against a tried warrior. You established, a time frame, a quest, emotion, a beautiful picture of the persona of a soon to be warrior. In a nutshell it conveys everything that is in a sequence of a quest. The excitement of a soon to be warrior, the powerful portrayals of a mustage, I can easy pictutre muscels standing taut ready, wonderful descriptive of an Indian Lad, it has it all, but mostly a story and a sad ending. How many young lads faced the same doom, never to return to their teepee. You captured pictures in motion, frame by frame in the one poem. Of course Red Feather the title clues the reader into a poem of Indian lore, so you carried the tale, and used all the mechanics, you painted pictures in words....wonderful. Even if this critique fails to meet you expectations I would have commented, it's truly wonderful. I love poetry that carries human tales and this one meets all expectations, thus my comments. Congratulations, even if it's dedicated to Mell I'm left with a feeling it's a poem dedicated to all Native American decendents.....Love, Jo||2005-02-04 15:29:56|
|Yearnings Like the Lake's||Joanne M Uppendahl||Me too, amazing how there are poems everywhere, some night I just dream poetry, all brought on by instances experienced in the day. Walking through woods, with all the natural Flora, fauna, seeing in the animals a poem, the bent three linb awash with moisture, dew sparling like diamonds, peaceful really. One morning years ago we had a late season ice storm, I rode down a road I have traveled every day for years, on this day though after the ice storm every branch, twig, and natural fauna was glistening, sparkling, and it created a memory of how absolutely beautyful our planet earth could be, a special occasion, one to always be treasured. Now that was a special day, but other days your great descriptives apply, and the style of projection puts the reader right there. I love these poem Joanne, I like the solitude of the woods just experiencing what Mother nature creates on a new pallet each and every day. Your poem captures all the nuances, and has a universal appeal to the nature of all of us that appreciate the beauty of this globe called earth. Nice, nice, nice. good writing as usual stands out, and in my book this poem is without peetr. Love, God Bless....Jo Mo||2005-02-02 11:09:55|
|My Hero||Kenneth R. Patton||stated from a first person point of view, contains all the elements of emotion upheaval, stated simply and factually, in fact probably universal in it's application, as it related to sibling rivaly. It may be stated from musings however it affected the course of life for the individual. Who prabably tried harder to suceed and supass the older brother. Yes, love not hate, but confusion as to why. I can speak to this being the third child out of five, and having an older sister who was treated like a Little princess (not only oldest child in the immediate family, but oldest child in the family period). It seems that regardless of how hard I tried I never achieved that lofty goal. In my own right I was very sucessful, but my path was completely different, for I felt I always had to prove myself. So you see there is a universal application for all reader, and no doubt paths were choosen just to achieve the same kind of attention, never felt that I did it thought, and at 67 she still thinks of herself as the Little Princess, ha ha, no doubt envy, but honestly I wouldn't have wanted her role, I because independent, and realized if it were to get done I'd hae to do it myself, and I did that's why there are no regrets, and one can muse, but the facts are the facts, and you did a great job at rojecting the hurt, the envy and sometimes pain associated with sibling rivalry. Simply written, hones, motional feeling, and lots of sensation. Justmusing.....best, Jo Morgan||2005-02-02 10:22:55|
|Seasons and Flight||Mark D. Kilburn||Hi Mark, rhyme and rhythm, can't be beat when you speak the language of birds, which holds strong suit over the different seasons, like a puzzle it fits together so well, and is truly a poem that holds no second place to any other. It's marvelous to see the poetry penned here, I just critiqued Arnie's poem and that was most enjoyable. Tou poem filled with detail and characteristics can't be beat, I felt the seasons in your verbiage, and could see the birds in their glory, doing there things. No you didn't miss the meter is great, the theme carried the intent, and you just didn't miss. Best of Luck (trying to be brief and concise, ha ha).....Jo Morgan||2005-02-01 09:34:53|
|Where To Now America?||Latorial D. Faison||Hi Latorial Concise choices and movitation is questionable, this poem can be applied more to nowadays then right after 9/11. What is the true movition, it's unclear to me. Power, Money, it doesn't see to good will really (unless one thinks of the generous giving to Tsuami victims), as far as Goverment interventions, fighting a war, for what, what have we achieved, just a lot of dead young people, human targets, and when I listen to Bush I get sick to my stomach, it's a terrible situition, your poem covers very well all the points, choices, human reaction, it's strong in it's projection and choice of linguistics and well written. Concscience poems that try to state situitions are a part of a written human history, and for all you wrote there are others that totally understand why the poem was written, and best how human choices should be applied, it's not a question of who's, who's wrong, it's always choicesm, and I believe the choices are wrong, for going to war only destroys, you would think that after all human history has proven that war, really doesn't anything, it only creates more choices, and rebuilding, but mostly a sadness for all the victims caught up in certain choices they never would have made. Diplomacy should be the leading factor, war the last factor. Not concise I know but I'm so angry we (America), made the choices that were made. Now we're looking for a way to get our troops home, why did we send them anyways, to get rid of one man and his two ebvil sons, makes a lot of sense doesn't it? Sorry about my soapbox......Love Jo Morgan||2005-02-01 09:08:59|
|Narcissism||Debbie Spicer||Interesting Debbie, rage, fish belly up, torrid whipping of water, not still, but those that run deep. Those circumstances outside the norm, Marcissism, well we all know the story, but this isn't that, it's love of oneself dor sure, but in a positive way. Anger manifests itself in built up disappointments, and eventually like a fish belly up the ultimate is death for sure. Don't know what this particular rage consists of, I know deep disappointments that ultimately build up and creat a scenario of rage, however that is quite personal to the individual or a person intrusted with the meaning, to go on to live a dual existence, once which for all intent is nomal, yet a second that is so emotional it does in time create a rage. All true. Quite a poem Debbie, surprising, I bet it will confuse many readers though, for it is so deep. I think I understand, to look into a body of water that acts as a mirror to see a image, yet that image isn't the trueness of the individual, it's a mirrors image, as if in a picture, but it only captures that flash of time, it doesn't tell the whole story. I suggested you write a poem and you have, and it's wonderful to see her, we always deal with issues that affect our lives, and so do you my friend, and so do you. Good weiting is good writing though, no matter what a mirrors image says. Love....Jo||2005-01-28 00:52:51|
|Nature's Angel||Mark D. Kilburn||You know Mark as I began reading this I automatically thought of a Hummingbird, and to find out my concensus was right on pleased me, for I have never seen anyone write this winged angel as apting as you have here. If anyone has ever sat and just watched they would reale what a great parrarel you've written here. I'm quite smitten with this poem, and reading it's flawless is beyond my descriptive abilities, I don't even feel I need to dissect each line, for each line speaks for itsel. In order words in my book flawless and beyond reproach. It's a wonderful poem, and I love the comparison to an Angel, for Angels to me are flawless and all the descriptive this poem entales. Great job, no suggestions from me, I just plain love the poem, and admire your artistic ability with this one, it's absolutely wonderful. Best regards and good luck this poem definately will be on my list for the month. Best always, Jo Morgan oh! by the way the style and linguistics, and the intent maintains make this a strong projection.||2005-01-25 14:52:51|
|Aleutian Getaway||Mell W. Morris||Oh Boy, quite an imagination here, are doubts assailingyou? To dream of being an Eskimo woman ready to play a subserviant role, Nah, not you my friend. There is lots of room for thought in this poem though, but realistally we know that we can't take a step back into servitude, with the concensus of thought, see subservient roles that still prevail in other countries, why would we even consider going back a step. On the other hand the imagination to play other roles is a human quirk, for how many think the grass is greener on the other side of the fence. What makes this poem humorous is the closing stanza, the promise to keep a high ranking Eskimo partner warm, and to please (doesn't that still prevail here, in the now, don't we try to please?) anyway no promise of no work for a month, and to have to think about it, there should be spontanity I think, no sir, I value myself too highly to become part of a bartering gig. Go ahead and think what your option will be, so tired of dealing with life issues it presents a possibility I guess, and in many ways it still prevails with no only cultures but also with individuals. To me though getting to sit around and chew the fat, well its no worth it. By as a fairy tale the poem is excellent, but the level I play on is trying to being realistic and live, and sway with expectations. After being married twice this propisation isn't attractive in the least though, High ranking eskimo or not. Love the injecting of coming up with temping dishes made out of eskimo fare though, does sounds very tasty to me, but to an eskimo I guess it would be great. That's what makes this world go round, the diversity of all the people, interesting to speculate on....but not for me. Great job Mell, enjoyable fairy tales are always welcome (but is it a fairy tale or a reality of what the world consists of? Love and Best wishes, More, more, more entertaining thought provoking poetry. Jo (Like the title a lot, eye catching, and your linguistics are wonderful as usual)||2005-01-25 04:41:13|
|verse 68 (Parents)||Erzahl Leo M. Espino||You know from this haiku I precieve a double meaning, the first straight foreward Mother bears the child, Father teaches life's lessons, and beause of Both combination we are who we are. Yet the second preception is Mary who bore Jesus, God the almighty formed and pronounced the reason, and because of both dieties we are what we are. So I get a human understanding with deep religious undertones, at any rate either, is correct, and the reader decides what connation is best applied. Best E., my regards always Jo Mo||2005-01-24 16:49:44|
|Old Friend||Latorial D. Faison||Like the intent very much, and the way you phrased the intent. All the strong points of friendship are definately included in this poem. What struck me strongly is, we take for granted, and we do waste too much time by not declaring intentions, or to even say I love you, I'm sorry, or any of the vast statements, we need to remember that our time here is short, and everyone should be able to spend our time here, by accepting, not judghing, no class, no race is better then another, tolorance and love of fellow man is important, and understanding and accepting the differences betweeen ourselves, but everyone deserves recognization by his/her fellow being. God knew his intentions when he put each and everyone of us here, and His expectation is, acceptance and love, the strong suits for spending time together, not to waste the time with hatred, wars, or rivalary, and not being jelous, all people are precious and as such we just need to accept, not waste time with issues that have nothing to do with living a clean, decent respectful time in relationships. Love the message, asmire the presentations, and the fact you did sway away from the intent, just presenting this strong message is enought, and you did that just fine. Best wishes, good write as usual....Love Jo Morgan||2005-01-24 11:33:20|
|Keeper of the Gems||Mell W. Morris||You know Mell, I'm struck with the beliefs of Native people, and the heritage they left and there belief that the Opal is a life force, I feel that way also, even more so in that the Opal is my birth stone. So the opal stands for a belief, passed on, the symbolism isn't lost to me, for I feel when I hold my Birthstone the message each and every gives, for they come from the earth, and we know we all return to the earth in the end. Their beauty is amazing, and they are a water stone, to retain their glow and pules water needs to aid they retain their stature. I imagine the native people with pouches keep on their person, and the opals contained with emitting a life force, strong beliefs, and wonderful for everything is of the earth and the opal in it's natural beauty denotes this, and each one is different, each one speaks when worn, the warm sensation that everything is right is emitted to the wearer. So your poem is the symbolism of the opal to life forces, how each one gives life different from the other, and the metaphor for planting is lessons learned and passed on. A deep poem my friend written exceptional well, and a tribute to Native beliefs, after all they believed in Mother Earth and all the life forces and traditions she gave. So a sort of Indian wisdom, a belief that hold true when an Opal is in the possession of one who understands. Love it, but maybe my Indian heritage is showing through here, and if I missed the intent, I apoligize, for it's a loverly poem....Love, Jo||2005-01-23 19:20:35|
|I Remember You Dr. King||Latorial D. Faison||Latorial, just have to comment. I lived through the legecy of Mr. King, I applaud his tranquility in a time of hatred and scorn, I laud his strength to give people hope, and the irony he set women free, all women, black and white, allowing them to believe. He was and always will be a fine, fine man, who stands with the strengths of all great leaders, who had principle, and was willing to face a Nation and say Free at last, Free at last. We'll never change the bigotory that still prevails in the thoughts of some, but many of us knew him as a right person, sent during a time of adversity, he free us to think and to stand by beliefs. I admired him, men of peace are few and far between, but God sent him and he carried the banner proudly, and yes hatred saw him assisnated, all of us that believe in him felt that bullet, but the assasin didn't dim his words, it just proved the strength of a man, a humble man to carry a message and show by example. It's a wonderful rememberance to Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr, may he rest in God's hands, and as he look down on the throngs of believers he smiles and know he carried out a very important mission in the endevor of Human equality, and so he is adfmired and remembered, the stance, the marches, his speaking so well with the spirit of belief. He never judged, he accepted the strengths and weakness, but of all he gave hope, to a race of people forced to live under the heels of intolotable men, who just never accepted that all men/women are equal, He helped lead many to understanding, that why this is such a poignant message of rememberance. In years to come young people will come to know of his cause and admire a beautiful man. Lovely tribute, on and close to a anniversary date, but his spirit is his strength and how he caused people to understand and believe in equality. Best wishes and a fitting tribute, loved reading it, for he contained nothing but the truth. Best wishes always...Jo (You know love really makes the world go round, and men as Rev King proved it!!!!)||2005-01-23 03:30:41|
|When We Die||Paul R Lindenmeyer||Wow, what a strongly flavored conversation, not ready yet, no choice really, death is predetermined by God, none but the so ill and ready to die give up easily to the raptor of death, for some it comes too soon, not ready God, PLEASE!! Your poem carries the intent strongly, using a conversation with God, simply stated really but strong in the intent. Just my two cents worth, for being ill, with hopes of getting back to a stabilized routine of life, I'm not ready either, I believe that this conversation could well be my last conversational tone also. Great job...honestly. Best...always Jo Morgan||2005-01-22 19:40:56|
|verse 36 (Ku Klux Klan) - revisited||Erzahl Leo M. Espino||I see the KKK in the strong, forceful language of intent, The K's are sharp and they more then demonstrate the KKK, scary that exist, when one wins more with love then hate, one wonders the conditioning of youngsters to accepting hate over love, and intimidation over working together. Yes stark, forceful and three lines that spell out the title with the strong K usage. makes one that was raised in love and tolorance, to accept the differences in people, how do some still believe the uglyness of KKK intentions. Great usage E. you more then put across your intent, it comes through loud and clear. Best aways.....Love, Jo||2005-01-22 19:25:20|
|From My Backdoor||marilyn terwilleger||It's amazing the thought procwess reveled in this poem. Looking out the backdoor, knowing that illness is like Winter, all seems dull from lifeless trees, to tulip bolbs looking stark and forelorn, knowing that Spring is rebirth, the beauty so evident in the greeness of life springing anew. Yes, I understand the double meaning contained in this poem, for I like you looked out my backdoor and wondered, will I see the beauty of Spring. Well phrased, the language is crisp, but the lingering question, "will i get to the fresh start of Spring. No missing here Marilyn, maybe because of my age, and physical experiences, and the uphill battles necessary to see how many Springs may be in my future. Born, intermediate life, doing adulthood, marriage, children, the bumpy road of life, how many stark Winters are left, how many Springs to come. Yes it makes one think, doesn't it. Purposefull intentional projection, all the while wondering. Just how many more. Many for you my Friend, free of pain, and enjoyment of lifes pleasures. Nice poem, it makes me realize that other experience the same lot in life, and we all look out our backdoord, not in just the physical sense but the emotional lot of experiencing life.....and you have my friend, and now you'll look out your backdoor to the greenness, of Spring, where new leaves replace dead, dry ones, and the grass isn't blotched and lifeless. Yep! you captured in all. Love and Gods Blessings.....Jo||2005-01-22 19:10:46|
|A Letter from Mother||Claire H. Currier||Beautiful Claire, and I'm so sorry your Mom left your Mortal Being, but from the heart of a Daughter I'm crying, this is too close to my Heart to even critique. May Mom rest in tn the Hands of the Lord, and yes, Dad is there too, for memories arn't scribed on paper but they are etched forever in the hearts and spirit of all who gave credence to what their parents truly meant to them. God Bless a wonderful tribute, May God Bless all, those that left and those remaining. Best wishes, Love, Jo Mo||2005-01-21 06:49:18|
|A Bowl of Cherries||marilyn terwilleger||How trueyour memories are, related the way you have here, you, as I did, grw up in the age of innocence, no crimes in school, no police intervention was necessary as it is today. There was a sense of doing it right, the biggest fear I had was doing something wrong, and being put on the carpet by my parents. There was a sense of honor, and respect for all life, not by just a few, but anyone going up in the laid back time of innoncence. Kids rode in their rebuilt car, the guys busting with pride they had a car, but then they had to work in order to have one. Tup our hometown was as laid back as your poem so apts relates to. It's a poem of remberance for me in many ways, so it hits a lot of sensation for me, never a policeman hustling crowds biggest exposure for them was the local football game on Friday night, or riding in a Memorial day parade, we've changed as a societry, but in each are memories like your poem relates to. You did a great job with your expressions, and memories of a quiet, peace loving time. When the second world war was over we living building homes and families unified, then Korea came up, and Tommy was a sniper for the Maries, my curousity was peaked, and I really became aware we were citizens of the world, then Viet Nam which robbed me of my innoncence, that things were changing drastically, a horrible time for a young Mariene wife with three children and a husband that served two tours, we never knew, more innoncence robbed, but I remember golden times just like you convey so wonderfully in your poem. No going back, just memories to sustain, and you pray Dear Lord keep these children safe, and put them on a path of contentment......yes, your golden memory serves you were, and you make me think that times, and people change, but we go on regardless. I like these people related poems, then make on able to continue...for people like you still exist, for that I thank the Good Lord. So once again your poem hits deep memory cords, and I thank you for lifting me out of a horrid time....Once again another poem I really enjoyed relating to. If you need quotes from your lines, I won't give them, for you know what you wrote, and why you needed to write this poem of remberance...wonderful for me to read and enjoy and join you on that wonderful memory road.....Love always, Jo||2005-01-10 21:53:22|
|On the Grief of Parents||Joanne M Uppendahl||Beautifully written with very sad undertones of a parents grief, never really haing a child go through the stages, to have them wipes from the face of the earth, but never from the loving memories...what if? So sorrowful and fitting at this time in the world....to have children die early. I can't help but think of all the cildren who will never, and you write it so fittingly...never enough time, so all we are lest with is the memories. You know Joanne I understand why you wrote this, as a Mother who will never know joys of the future, but still remember a child lost, fitting, and very appropriate.||2005-01-10 14:46:26|
|Cut and Paste||Mell W. Morris||Hi Mell, what a reminder of lessons, your second stanza fractured me, especially when one considers for years my previous married name was Mrs. Levy (Levi). THAT PARTICULAR LINE WAS THEN SO TRUE, AND NOW i AM THE DESCRIBED CHARACTER, ESCEPT LIVING IN A THREE STORY TALL BUILDING, NO MORE GARDEN. The vericos veins are there and the pain of a artist rings true. Too close me, it's like meeting persona from a previous life in your poem. Maybe too close to home, eh????? From a poetically speaking point of view, the Title and your maintaining the theme is excellent. Needless to say another wonderful submission, but far too close to home Freind/Girl....Love yea, take care and I pray for you every day, I know all these writing tires you out, but being the artist you are these wonderful poems keep springing from your metaphorical pen.....Love ya!!!!!! Jo||2004-12-31 23:15:29|
|New Year's Eve||Kenneth R. Patton||Wow Kenneth, stated as to what alcohol does, it defuses the pain, even the drink burns as it swallowed, but it numbs temporatily, however as you've written it's a killer, to the boy and to the spirit. Yet reality exists, there are some that look to be numb, and slowly, so very slowly iys's incipient, it robs life completetly, it's to bad that drinking numb, giving temporary relief from the reality of life. Stated with a clarity, in language that is acceptable from mass understanding. Kenneth I hope you're surrounding this night with love from loved one. One hates a lecture but the is a slow killer, and it's a shame, for everyone has value, and all self respect for self and for others feels so darn good without the numbing effects of drink. Excellent joy, wonderful projection and format well suscribed...Thanks, the Best of New Years ever.....Jo Mo||2004-12-31 20:05:16|
|Jack Frost||marilyn terwilleger||Maybe no particular rhyme, and a poem you might consider a little ditty, however to my thinking Jack Frost at his best in the charming glittering world once rights shadows have withdrawn. Every bit the bespectled world you sensationlize my recollects to, and as I said so charming in it projection. More then a winner in my book, found myself humming Jack Frost nipping at my toes, it has a wonderful feel created here, and so fitting to the season......... Keep well Marilyn and the most Blessed 2005.....Love Jo Mo Needless to say I don't feel it necessary to rectify any of your presentation, expecially the wonderful fitting lyrics of the self proclaimed little ditty. Love, Jo Mo||2004-12-31 00:29:56|
|"What is a Tsunami?"||Latorial D. Faison||Yes Latorial, Deathwaves, indiscrimate that devastates all, that affects rhe spirit, and leaves many to morn all the dead, washed out to sea, tangled in the once living belongings, no rhyme, no reason, only God knows the reason. More on human tradegy, wiping out the viable potential,it leave all who bear witness to tragedy.s like this natural diaster, wondering why is it, a simple warning system to get to higher ground would have saved lives, the West Pacific, and Alantic coasts have it, why is it third world countries don't? Who, when and why decides, a definate lack of parity. Then we say how could this happen? it's well known the possibility loams, are these people sacrifical Lambs, expendable, that the aspect that bothers me, who decides. If technalogy has set parimeters who isn't everone in the world able to receive a simple warning? The poem is so fitting, and I'm pleased you posted it to al least pay homage to those lost, or who may die because of lack of clean water, food, and protection die from all the diseases waiting to attack a vunerable people. A wonderfully written commerative poem. God Bless, be safe, and HNY........Jo Mo||2004-12-30 00:11:08|
|verse 35 (Manger) - revisited||Erzahl Leo M. Espino||The creche (crib, yes, the manger, stark beginning, but a most beautiful part of the meaning of Christmas, three lines that say more then longer poems, and fitting to a commeration on the birth of Christ. Yes my friend the poem stands as a tribute to the birth of Christ, not one day goes by whatout Christ in it, and I give thanks for this meaning of Christmas. All my best.........Jo Mo||2004-12-29 00:49:25|
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