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Below you will see ALL of the Critiques that Tony P Spicuglia 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 835 Total Critiques.
|Poem Title||Poet Name||Critique Given by Tony P Spicuglia||Critique Date|
|Chasing Paradise||DeniMari Z.||Deni, this should be the opening of a short story, of life and the transport of creation. What a beautiful scene, I could feel the impact of the allegory build within. Having found myself in like thought much of these last years, I easily felt that what beset, also besought, and the precedent of a sort of celestial liberty was also the resident of our lives. Thank you much for this inspirational vision, truly it was a vision in my mind.||2017-01-23 08:57:43|
|A Poem||Joe Gustin||Writing, writing, writing My compunction is to examine when I might have met that satisfying scratch, the at necessity to awaken to the perfect pitch. A poem. So many downstream, so man waiting up stream. I think the vehicle waits the rower, nevertheless. “wilds of her whims” a stunning analogy- somewhere, in the inspiration of saddling the wind, the wind will laugh, as you propose, untamed, but by the acquiescence of the verse. Very inspiring Joe, very much so.||2016-12-26 15:15:46|
|Wrong Way on a One Way Street||Michael Bird||Michael, this is a piece I needed to read this year. It is a piece where I can join the moment, and walk to where the images are less likely to impart thier message. You spoke such, and the “insane” to rhyme with pain, is a perfect match- listenin’ to the rain, the rain, and wondering after sleep- There are few things that will recompense such a loss of a smile. Your piece is alive an poignant. That is why it is so powerful, it is alive, and you are alive to tell you’re tale. I remember a counselor once telling an angry person, if you’re that angry, you are still alive. There is hope. On this trail, today, I am walking with you. Really a splendid piece.||2016-12-26 15:05:54|
|Eyes to See||Mark Steven Scheffer||It has been a while since I listened to his recordings. On seeing you post, I refreshed my memory and blues music palate by listening to all his recordings I have. Much like Robert Johnson, his known repertoire is very small. I believe in my collection I have them all for both of the men. Unlike other bluesmen, his faith was primary and his music secondary. You, of course, know all of that. Of your piece, I could put it to music, but I hope you do. Would like to hear it. The dialect and word choice are exquisite, but again, you knew that. Of the season this is posted; the character of the man probably speaks well of the posting. So, I will comment one thing; sure as der’s a heav’n, My friend, I certainly hope you’re correct, the both of you. No matter, I haven't the surety I would make it anyway. groun' Always worth my time and effort. Thank you MSS for the gift.||2016-12-26 14:57:43|
|Something more than nothing||Medard Louis Lefevre Jr.||Medard, good to see a piece from you this month. This is such a perfect, the heart wants what the heart wants piece. The timbre of the piece has a familiar and very graphic emotional read. It cannot be discounted because of the depth of feelings. The perfect line in the piece; “thinking too much” and that is the crux of all of us in the despair of whatever is or was. It is the magnifier that grants this piece its power to usurp the parameters of everything that is or ever was. Splendid write!||2016-12-22 09:10:00|
|All I Know||Joe Gustin||Joe- All I know, is this is filled with panorama. The “sisters under the skin” analogy is brilliant. The old English spelling of colors, fits the scene well. Adding to that is your transitions, eac of which has its own nuances; “ancient to new”, “jazz to blues”, “art to artist”, “choir to solo”, and adds that much more to the character of the first kiss. Contrast, death to birth, loss to bliss. Well done.||2016-12-08 15:54:21|
|When you Sang||Joe Gustin||Joe a splendid read. I think such as this is more often defined by the reader than by the writer because of the universal theme and references. Of you personally, having read much of your work, I empathize with the feelings, adoration and metaphors/analogies. Of those metaphors/analogies, they easily catalog the heart of any reader, so inclined or not. Superb write! I particularly like the chase and wind- then the ending where ebb and tide are separated into their own universe, coexisting together!||2016-12-02 14:04:57|
|Here I AM||Joe Gustin||A fine piece of contrast. How the subject is so undersold. Some may say I write overboard about the same. In your piece, you take the writer, then the detached but party to, (the cat), and accent the entire contrast with an understandable warmth, while providing only description of feelings for the detachment. An interesting conceptual way of sewing the two together. Some may dislike cats, but most like a pet. Of the darkness, you let each reader fill in the blanks from their own lives, while still linking to the writers personal quest. “may better see”, would that that was always true!||2016-11-22 16:01:40|
|Allow Me||Joe Gustin||Bravo- And I, the sand,...... Bravo. I haven’t much to say but such. The “abyss of your nature” how exaquisite a thought, a phrase. S1L3 I’d use “imbalance” Wonderfully said, “to love you in your strangest season” – wish I had written it, worth the page to reread many times. It would be a dogeared reference in my poetry book. “from ending to start” how exquisite again. Bravo Joe, Bravo!||2016-11-11 22:02:10|
|If Ever There||Joe Gustin||Joe- so goes paradise I guess. I understand. I also know two hundred Christians were beheaded by the filth of the earth, because of no war. I wish, I wish, I wish, but wishes... Well, sir, I understand. All sides, however; must embrace the call, or one side must defend the innocent. I understand your sentiment, and I applaud.||2016-11-11 21:57:42|
|Quite A Bright Show||DeniMari Z.||Deni, “Quiet contemplation” This piece screams of wonder, in quiet contemplative style. Warmth exudes in the coldness of the air. Winter comes alive- and I have always been a winter guy. I’d tell you a secret but you’d think I was daft. I wish, I wish, and there to mystify, you capture me in imagination and wonder. Did we speak of “stilled in quiet, contemplation”? Come away, the sharing, so is the brilliance like no other. wonderfully alive, this piece, wonderfully alive.||2016-11-11 21:53:46|
|Come Back.||Joe Gustin||Joe, There is a poem I recognize. Just tonight I was playing my guitar and singing love songs written for loves- who may never hear them- of this, you had me, “smile”, “kiss”, “touch”, “heated rush to my soul”, how poignant that all of it is summed in such descriptors. S1L2 – create not created Splendid poem to go with my night of love and lost love, sung to only me.||2016-11-11 21:48:08|
|While Drinking Asunder||Joe Gustin||So Joe, the woman we must meet. And so you have lavished us with commendation, with preponderance, here and before. And we, how could we, with you, not fall in love with her each time? The lash, as lashed to our souls now, is the framing of her look, that look that moves you to another place. The last stanza hits, and we wonder, is the dust the dust of transience, or the dust of lost paradise. I assume, with the word oblivion rather than eternity or such, it is the latter. But with you, we call all fall in love with her again, or; as it were, each time!||2016-11-10 17:45:53|
|Autumn Tambourines||DeniMari Z.||Deni, as beautiful a piece as can be written- and its tenderness and melancholy are offset by the accentuating of the blessing over the difficulty. That book, your book, of pages turned, is obviously a good read. Your final stanza is so filled with single lined metaphors that itself is breathtaking; The sky at night changes – both of youth to age, ideology to ideology, beginning to end game. when the sunset – the culmination of this life, yet also the book read, where the sunset is colored in many hues of appreciation. falls into deeper blue – of the end approaching and its calling recognizable elegant shift – appreciation for what awaits without deprecating what has gone to desired nights – the sleep to come for the weary, once again with an appreciative tone. when, the air is cool – when you coined that line a coolness flows over an attentive reader and it feels good. no fear, just the feel of relief on a warm day. A fabulous poem, each stanza perfect!||2016-11-10 08:48:39|
|I Only Have Heaven||Joe Gustin||Joe, you are such a minimalist. Reading this I wanted more! Your assonance throughout is so well done, the way the words play off each other; sideways/pass, pass/path, heaven/bend, seconds/infectious. Well done. The shadow consonant and vowel companionship make this a special piece. I think either comma the “pass” or eliminate the “As”. I'd drop the "As". As is a bad habit of mine. I felt the impetus of watching the walk, the restitution of the earth after a storm, the rainbow metaphor needing a storm to enhance the effectiveness of the walk. Infectious is such a great word. I appreciate that you used “laughter” and not some more romantic term; in itself it turns the coin romantic. Well done sir.||2016-10-25 15:03:40|
|Her||Joe Gustin||Joe, this takes the literary construct, blending it into the precious allegory of love. S2 L1 “is”? This is a resonant piece. It is the love of love, love of writing, and love of her. Past and future perfect tense is perfect. (Although, most less enthusiasts these days, you’d have to explain what it meant!). Well done Joe. Well Done.||2016-10-16 10:08:45|
|Butterflies||Joe Gustin||Joe, A very original premise (of the butterflies) that is a rare thing. To speak of the heart and mind, reacting to thier familiarity with what is observed and felt; when the feelings deigned inchoate to the observastions, rule the domain is the definition of the other side of the coin. We poets, and I do give poets the edge because I have seen those bathing in glory and lost in demise, who are unable to grasp the incliniations of the world and emotional freedom of pariculars- we poets must write from the soul that sees, and not necessarily from the positional response. Though Ashrin did just that this month, he; as other poets, will also find the glimmer in the externalities not controlled by the epicurean moods. Most of those aware of the world, during whatever inference it makes; cannot wonder if a butterfly sings. Then again, the butterflies song, mute or moot, is also contained in portrait. Well done.||2016-09-24 09:48:04|
|If I were the wind||Joe Gustin||Joe- Indeed, I did with this piece; Play in her hair, brighten her face, look with wonder into her eyes, serve the warmth of her skin- This is a poem of candidacy, of the eyes through the soul. I know the feelings and re-felt them in your words. Your so few words fill volumes of romantic poetry. As a snowflake- the ubiquitous definition of singularity, taking on another state, changing, for the love of the woman. Brilliant! Thanks for my morning Joe, you and Lora hit me with your best shots!||2016-09-24 09:23:42|
|Morning Scent||Lora Silvey||Beautifully done Lora. The world, the coffee (I have always been an early riser, even as a boy- the day just was too exciting to pass up, but my earliest delightful memory is the aroma of the coffee percolating). This is a well put together collage; a well done reason. Most (including me) seldom find the fluidness you show here. It is a bit stunning. The colors are, in some respects; suggestive and analogous, I have not missed it! It might be my favorite invigorating moment in the poem. Overall, this is a fine piece of poetry! Thank you LORA.||2016-09-24 09:16:42|
|Night's Magic||Lora Silvey||My Dear Lady I don’t know whether it is Emily Dickenson’ish, or the mystical love of Ladyhawke, or the dragon love scene in Dragon Riders of Pern, or the spiritual integration in Avatar, or the most haunting moments in Anna Karenna, or whatever- I know it is a fabulous piece that touches every area of my appreciation. Of the linger or fade, the fact that you brought my senses alive in the recitation proves- the lingering. A very sensual poem that captures and caresses the sensibilities, of the physical manifestation from a spiritual inspiration. Excellent. I doubt anything will deter me from my selection this month. Maybe a great one by MSS will give you a run, but (don’t know how anti-epithet you are), Lora, DAMN! You have captured in an instant, what I so often have missed in the effort!||2016-08-31 15:01:16|
|Time||Joe Gustin||Joe, wonderfully done. I don’t think I would affect a change of a single word. The passions are built in, the moment, and the memory. A very fluid, inventive, innuendo filled image. Well done.||2016-08-27 11:51:24|
|ENCHANTING SKY||Paul H. Roefs||Paul, I do love a constant, Love Me Do, beat. You started out slam bumppa bam! Towards the end you let you meter slide a little and lost that driving beat. S2L2, first word must be a typo, don’t know what it is. I think S3L2 the second up should be “us”. Love stories, the pride and perpetuity of the poet. I enjoyed this read! I will say, stanza 1- powerful drive! Thanks for sharing||2016-08-12 16:29:10|
|Behind the Curtain||Mark Steven Scheffer||MSS, Of your last stanza, for me, not to vote is to endorse by far the worst of two candidates. Of course I am in CA, so my vote will be wasted. However; the gap between two evils is as you describe, a wide gap. Concerning Kaine’s votes on abortion, ie; Abel’s murder reference, and the “silent scream”, you gave enough to allow those who listen or give a damn, the opportunity to agree, or not. Much like the Gen 38:9 verse the is improperly used to villainize masturbation, when the verse is really about disobedience to God, so too Lev 18:21 (and others), is not so much about disobedience of God, (though there is the “have no other gods before me, command), but rather the sanctity of life to God, who is appalled at the lack of that sanctity in the Children of Israel. Well, your piece makes me think. The fires of Molech is apropos to your theme; and Kaine. Oh hell, I too find watching the t.v. and the coronation of the great deceiver to be too much. I will vote, because I must. Thank you for a great morning of mental, moral, and philosophical exercise. I am sure you have been called a Prophet before. It is inevitable, and probably accurate.||2016-07-31 09:28:21|
|Compassion Suffers, By Cheryl Bohlender||Joe Gustin||Cheryl, Finding an aura is always difficult when the image creator is unknown. That is how this piece affects me. I want to find the artist in the work, but I have no history explaining the muse. Start here, (else’s) (practiced). This piece drops me square into the world of the empathic, the nurturing, and the remains. It drops me square into the loss of my grandson, and into loss in general. Mostly it drops me square into the feelings of the author, where none other may join, except by the reading of the piece. “Cheap entertainment” and “Dead as desire” are frames for the image that is painted. When finally we reach the “face too young to be gone” we are already a part of the faction. It cannot be helped. In the final stanza, the globalization of a private suffering, we are left with the questions none have the answer to. There are those who propose answers, but none suffice. We are left with “mornings come too late”, and that is not taken separately. Poignant piece.||2016-07-15 17:10:27|
|I Can't Believe||Joe Gustin||Great scott! A fine dichotomy of love, lived through the moment. There is not a line within this piece that doesn’t jump out and say whoa! The “tempt” becomes subservient to “sheet lightning eyes”, and I enjoyed the old world spelling for colored- it fits, I know it is more a painting than a point, but it fits the piece well. To play with your flame, that will burn my old world down- that is the definition of being in love. (of course one hopes it doesn’t happen, but one always moves to the side that is, not what may be). Knowing the passion of love and beauty, I both feel besotted by the love, and saddened by the ashes. Either way, you brought alive the fire!||2016-07-15 16:57:54|
|Love Waits||Joe Gustin||Joe, I am going to take a different tact from the last time you presented us with this splendid piece. It is a “next to the bed” read again content! The piece is as if the term light year is being defined, and inverted. Sure there is the interval, the “wait”, and then there is the measure, “time”. One takes a direct interest, almost as if time/motion of mass, are caught together in the cycle, or light year actually being a measure of distance, not of “year” or time. You grant me the patience and the impatience all in the same speak. A very nice piece to lose myself in.||2016-07-15 16:51:11|
|As Seasons Grow Cold||Lora Silvey||Lora, sometimes a piece makes the point. Other times, like this time, it is antithetical to the point. Your piece speaks to the great ruse being applied to all life, some sooner than later, others later than sooner. Nevertheless; I understand the prompting of this piece, the tally, which is no long supposition, but exposition. I understand George Bernard Shaw’s quote; Youth is wasted on the young- oft repeated by many reaching “that” age. Whatever that age is for them. Your “litany of paradox” is an amazing simile, particularly in that the comparative issues are not spoken within the simile. A paradox in itself. The craftsmanship of this piece, returning to my first line, and your first stanza, bely the point of the fresh and amazing piece. I guess, if I were to speak to it all, I’d say, (which is my wont) Nevertheless. Seasons grow cold, but you remain what you were before, and to be. It’s the poets, the craftsman’s, the creators- contribution. Well done.||2016-07-10 12:41:27|
|Music and the Blue Glass Horse||Joanne M Uppendahl||Joanne, well said. I find myself reacquainting with the stars and constellation. For most my life there was a superior interplay with them, and my soul. I could look towards them, absorb them, fantasize about reaching them, and still function subsequent to the rise of the sun. A sort of, “natural high”. Having been a “gods” aficionado at a very young age, the sky means much to me. Your piece, as I have experienced in my old age, captures for me the inclination of watching and dreaming. Of Pegasus, (I had to refresh my knowledge) I can’t say I have had a specific emotional bond, of horses, always. I will have to be honest and tell you the (Zeta, Xi, Rho and Sigma Pegasi) was unknown to me, but the constellation was not. Now I can dream with you. On an unrelated, but somewhat related topic. If you search for “horses in the sky” there are a lot of pictures of horse shaped clouds. Also a search for Blue Glass Horse online will yield glass sculptures of the Pegasus. It made me wonder if you had an actual figurine to match the stars. I had fun with all this. Interesting and fun. Once again, you have moved me. Of the Coda: I hope there are many more movements for us both, both in the sky, and otherwise. Your use of the music to feel the image is refreshing. Thank you Joanne, a nice journey for the morning.||2016-07-09 10:35:30|
|So Long Old Friend||Michael Bird||Michael I am assuming this Hasher is Melanie as well, of the Hash House Harriers (I needed a greater appreciation for your previous verse, (I don’t like being found lacking in my attempt to understand the craft of another.)) Anyway- The Randy Newman connection is well done, (a very underrated lyricist. The tribute speaks volumes of you. Thank you again for letting me ramble.||2016-07-01 11:54:34|
|Have you Been Called a Homophobe Today?||Mark Steven Scheffer||MSS, I was going to skip this one because it seems all over the map, poignant, and the humor is not humorous enough to advocate satire. Then again, here I am- The indictment of a changing theological dogma, in light of a changing sociological perspective has the panache to capitalize on the entire verse. The missing aspect of this piece is the media who don’t care whether a perspective is fraudulent or not, long as they can spin it, time and time again till the fraudulent becomes social mantra- that’s another story. Your cryptic references are quite compelling, the fire in the hole, wood feeding the fire, deep enough- and after reading this several times, I am ambivalent as to which side of the agenda is most irritating to the writer, ecclesiastical liberalism notwithstanding. As I said, I should have just let this one go; note; I hate advertisements, they’re so much like labels, seldom with any global, moral validity.||2016-06-30 13:52:00|
|Hasher Lady||Michael Bird||So, Mr. Bird- here I find myself understanding a piece but unable to identify the object of your desire. I know (I’m old) what a Hasher is. However: they don’t usually (as far as I know) dance in the street. I have two options, presume you are recognizing a woman with the name Hasher, or there is a mobile street vendor, who enticingly also dances to music as she slings her hash, but also that cannot be true because of “through the countryside”. Anyway… This is a very enjoyable, compelling caricature. I find myself liking her from the moment I hear of her. I like her, I would have wanted to dance and sing with her myself. The last stanza is very well done; you leave us with a mystery that haunts in its own way. Why (couldn’t) not (hadn’t) you dance with her. Did she pass, was she a passing waif that it would have been inappropriate, were you too young, were you to shy, or was she really the image of a woman who moved you, like watching a fetching weather girl on T.V. I really love the ending, and feel with you that need, to go back- and DANCE. Very nice read!||2016-06-30 09:04:21|
|Where Are You?||Joe Gustin||h Joe, you begin this piece with so much dreary- I was ready to give it all up at “two few surprises” and “too much rain and not enough rainbows”! Then came a glimmer of hope, for there is a voice that is musical, asking questions of things to be imagined. The missive grows, and in stanza three, I too grow to miss this person, this ray of light in the darkness. Wow, “courage”, “clever” contrasted with muted crowd. that is a powerful image to me. There is a scene in a movie where an empowered little boy magically eliminated his sisters mouth, so she couldn’t speak or eat- that is how powerful your image is. Then the crux, I feared, and I hoped in. A life too long, anyways, and longer, without the focus of this piece. Without the love. Without the uniqueness of the individual who inspires. I knew it was coming, but I feared it anyway. No sun! Joe, a very, very powerful piece.||2016-06-30 08:45:55|
|Sixteen Candles||Mark Steven Scheffer||Good Morning, As music is concerned, The Twelfth of Never, by Johnny Mathis is often a go to song for me when I am introspective or my moment requires framing. I also like the Donny Osmond version because it sends me back to a blind double date I and my best friend had, where we picked up the girls in El Sobrante and went somewhere. Really I don’t remember where, but they were crazy about Donny Osmond, The Twelfth of Never and Paul Anka’s, Puppy Love. Sixteen Candles on the birthday cake, of “he”, and the voice of more than one, “we said that already”, and after several readings, and living the moment and the monument- I am (readers are) left with the legacy- The era is so well staged with plastic and ashtrays, and the acquaintances could put it anywhere from 1928 to 1955 or so, with Eddie Stanky, what an amazing thought- and I’m left wondering if Leo (everyone seems to have an uncle Leo), is the book end of Stanky, meaning Leo Durocher. Any older person like me who loves baseball would wonder the same thing. I feel a lot of love an memory reaching from this piece. The reach to Dad, and the love of Mom, and the monument is touching, from young to forever. Thank you for sharing this piece. It restores so much from another time in my life, as well as what is known of yours.||2016-06-29 18:18:35|
|Feathers||Joanne M Uppendahl||Joanne, I held my breath seeing your verse, remembering when it was the norm, and a particularly prized norm at that. I wondered, as the song says, “where have all the flowers gone.” I always hope for a new garden each year, and have become adept at coaxing a response from the soil. And then the subject; I understand it all. Being a full time caregiver or (giving my best strength to the extending of another’s quality of life), is the “burden of living... blessing.” Reading your words caused me to reach for your heart, that is as your heart is. I understand the heart and the travail. I read and reread your S3-4 many times (leaving the blackbird for another moment). I wonder what I’d be able to write from the chasm, from the loss and gain, the truly defined paradox, where sacramental and indiscretion might vie for ascendency. There are many red-winged blackbirds where I live and work. The last stanza, of the death, if you will, of the innocent, being admired by the guilty, is analogical; and I wonder how much of the analogy is of the griever, or simply emotional tied to the paradox. I know you, and the loss of the blackbird would have made a great impression on you. With regard to the loss of one central to your everyday regard- the two are not so dissimilar. However; one is a non-binding event, while the other will forever be the binding response. The paradox within, attempts to tie the two into a single loss or accusation. The heart must not allow the conflagration. A wonderful piece, about a very vexing moment of life. Thank you for your words, again. By the way, beauty remains what it is. Even a can of paint thrown against the Mona Lisa, cannot mar, what the Mona Lisa is. Beauty finds its own way.||2016-06-24 10:35:16|
|Hummingbird||Joe Gustin||Joe, I have a serious weakness for romance, and a real (don’t think I’ve ever shared it here), fascination with hummingbirds. They make my moment better when gardening, and the sound of thier electric clicking, is an attraction that I cannot ignore. So, you analogy of “sky and ground” is one of my favorites. It is both endless and cloying at the same time. “Night flower worshipping the moon” what a stunning image that is. Following the “I see you now”, the rising of the moon at night is written into the moment, without ever saying it. The phallus analogy with hummingbird and nectar sets the stage for worshipping the moon. I think, throughout this piece the vassal position of man towards woman is very well put!||2016-06-18 21:29:24|
|The Long Reach (Detroit, 1967)||Mark Steven Scheffer||Sometimes I have to extract myself from what my experiences have given me, and reinsert myself into what the artist is trying to say. I am a strong proponent of the adage, (I made up) that writing only respects the reader, and never the artist. It is the reader who finds the treasure; it is the writer who must place the possibilities. Often the treasure is distinct and of only relative to the possibility. So, this is an interesting piece to me. It is interesting because of personal reasons. The primary reason is Blind Pig Records is one of my favorite blues recording organizations. It has been for years. As with many “Blind Pig” references in society, they all have links to the Detroit, 1967 Riots at the Blind Pig music club. The reference has been a part of my life for at least 20 years (that’s when I first bought a Blind Pig blues product), and referenced the name. Prior to that, I was not familiar with the Detroit ’67 riots. So here I am, deciding to jettison the existing in my mind to put my mind around your tale. The contrast in your verse is obvious, but the context is obscure for me. I understand, in reading that Tiffany’s and Sorbonne, are a culture much different than the attendees in Detroit (those who made up the riot), I understand the rage, and in your verse the contrast is, of itself, a powerful metaphor. In my ignorance I miss the reference to “condums off the roof at Flaherty's, but the guitar man and the essence of the club is fluent. I haven’t read an indepth article, (probably twenty shorter essays and news pieces), so assume “monkey cage” is a direct quote from someone referencing the club, and the “flaming finger” having to do with the burning down of the buildings. The timbre of this piece is as stark as the historical moment. Prophets? As Jeffrey Tambor (Maura) says in the last episode of of Amazon’s Transparent, “I didn’t rape you.” (A true statement spoken for most men in general), prophecy has no necessity for a moral core. It just is. Then again, this might all be a simple reference to a moment in your life that I can only be privy to via your verse. That too is well done. Great piece, as usual.||2016-06-14 11:51:07|
|Woe Will Not Win||DeniMari Z.||Deni, such a very difficult subject to write to, both as the protagonist, and as the interpreter of solutions. I have a very personal experience, and yet on a global scale, frustration is more often the result. Being the “chosen ones”, for any set of benefactor responsibilities is always that duality of what is and what must be. I wonder if the “darkness” and the “black umbrella” are more metaphors for the duality of being an unseen benefactor, and also being a shade when strength is no longer there to continue the rescue. “We survive”, as I said, I have personal experience as well as an opinion globally that makes many uncomfortable. It is my thought that until the discomfort of the world upsets the apple cart, few will willingly sacrifice for the need. Anyway, I appreciate your piece. Many facets to its interpretation. Mostly, I hope you find strength and appreciation for your personal experience.||2016-06-10 11:24:39|
|Punitive Damages||DeniMari Z.||Deni- As I read this piece, over and over again it takes on a personality of its own. On the one hand the plaintiff’s cry is enveloped in the desire to commune. On the other hand, it is obvious from the content that there is an inadequate communication occurring. This interaction is deemed insufficient, maybe even insignificant to the need. Of darkness I am familiar. Hoping when one knows the hope is really the entirety of the content desired, is something to be shelved, or else despair takes over. “Write to me, perhaps that will be less painful to read”. You have written a very powerful, personal piece.||2016-06-07 15:43:54|
|The Rooftop, The End||Regina M. Heller||Regina, I always enjoy a piece that gives me homework, the research of a story I already knew, the falling of Icarus. In its application here, and with the context of the Beatles, one has to decide whether it is the talent and fame that made the departure sorer, or the departure that accents the talent and fame. Of the entire analogy, I have to wonder if the author really thinks the fall comes from lack of wisdom in everyday workings, or if it is rather a normal, inevitable result of most of the most talented attempting to meld into a single entity. Of Icarus; a real ignorance of the mechanics and properties of his wings allowed his foolishness to prevail. Of the Beatles, I am not so sure. Of them together, the fall is comparable. One might say magnetic and they knew it. They interacted, played on each others albums, socially shared, long after the breakup. In fact (until after Johns untimely murder, only she held out as a detractor. Of course that ended when it became inconvenient. Excellent thought in the piece, thoroughly enjoyed it.||2016-06-07 15:34:34|
|Edges of Eggshells Shaped To Slice||DeniMari Z.||DeniMari- The telling moment, not of the reassembly assistance, but of the realization that if reassembled incorrectly, or even ignored, the path that grants true healing it to find it on one’s own. I don’t know the genesis of the poem. I assume many are missing the point with you and aggravating the loss, but I do understand the splintered pieces, and the improbability that the future holds. As with the revalation; to come to the resolution, hope is a must. I think, for those around who wish to grant a respite, they need to understand that what the fallen needs, is encouragement and hope- to feed the self-realization of truth, and true healing. Well said. Very well said.||2016-06-07 15:24:24|
|What Is Love||Joe Gustin||Joe, scrumptious- I certainly like the “living stage upon which we play”! In the two stanzas with four lines, the –(staged if you will)- rhymes accent the theme. “Stage” and “Play”, and “of” and “love”. After already becoming a part of the truism as written, those rhymes seem to color the theme of love, as if spring has just arrived. Well Done. Of the entire piece, of living and dying, and love being the determining factor to the success of that journey, it is also well done. A very insightful and enjoyable piece!||2016-06-03 14:44:05|
|remedy Ills||DeniMari Z.||Deni - You have spoken the truest words issued here. I am so tired of having to dispense 10 different powerful pills, some morning, some night, and watching little difference in m wife. I am sure we could eliminate almost all of them and she would be better. I fight with the doctors, but pharmaceuticals are an easy out for them. They can’t tell me how so many different medicines interact and make things worse. Great poem, so true- A Treatise worth the read.||2016-01-26 11:19:59|
|Cyberstation||Mark Steven Scheffer||Here here!||2016-01-22 09:48:49|
|Perhaps We'll Be Back||DeniMari Z.||Deni, such common themes in the heart of one who spends their time on spirituality and the content of the universe. You capsulated the entire discussion very well, ensuring the comparative, diminutive size of the observer, yet the observers powerful, expansive spirit, to the diminutive particles of the immense universe, and the grandness thereby. Time as a tiny marker is inserted, yet also time as the ever-present sentinel is also apportioned. Of the importance of life, you extract it from all the above by allowing it to conjoin with all of the above. I am not sure whether this resides, for me, the reader, as more of a human spirit piece, or whether, allowing for the quantum make up all that is, it is symbiotic and nothing more. Well done||2016-01-22 09:47:45|
|EXCUSE ME SIR.||kevin Dunn||kevin- a splendid juxtaposition of the void for the “cloud of witnesses” if you will. Seeing the beginning, I was not surprised by the ending; there were few places you could go with it, but you did a good job of selling the goods, and the repeat of “Excuse me sir, I could not help but wonder at your words” makes the animus of the piece not only tactile, but also something that places the reader into the presence of the point- and a apportioned to it, as it were. It is a great veteran’s day piece. Such images are too rare.||2015-11-11 13:35:09|
|The Color of Joy||Wanda S. Thibodeaux||Wanda, Such an idyllic scene. The combination of two of my favorite things, the ocean, and the sky (including cloud formations). I understand the necessity of the soul, that of the ocean as paramour, and the sky the willing confidant, moon, stars- the expanse. To share it with another requires a concurrence beyond the superficial, on into the sublime. The piece makes me feel good and draws me to compose, in like ilk, the metaphor that is the substantial. Well done.||2015-11-11 13:28:45|
|Anchored By Old Dirty Chains||DeniMari Z.||Deni, Being unsure as to whether the dialog is with self, or if the dialog is rendered from the other (family, ect.), as the causation of increasing the discomfort- I guess it doesn’t matter, in reality- The struggle with the commonplace, sans common sense, or the frugality of actual thoughts, is something that drives the plane of existence into a tilt. I can feel the frustration in this piece. The ending I find rhetorical dialog with self. We both know who will get up and try again, and it is not those whose behavior/thoughtlessness, was the focal point of this, or each, digression. Wonderfully put, this piece, wonderfully put. I know, personally two things have happened that I read in your piece. I have developed an intolerance for stupidity, and… have overbalanced that with a tolerance that allows me to look to other, more endearing traits. Depression? I’m not a clinician. Normalcy, you got tht right.||2015-11-10 15:00:45|
|Sweet Mysteries||Wanda S. Thibodeaux||Wanda, This report back, is the impetus that I find the reason for what I do. It is filled with analogy, it is filled with a peek into your soul, it is filled with another way to view love within a relationship. It has left images that made me smile this morning. Having lived a long and checkered romantic life, love remains a refreshing repartee, nevertheless. To read of the word “contentment” in the context of romance, after reading of the heat in S1, and the metaphysical in S2, is something extremely magical; as it should be. Thank you for my morning.||2015-11-08 10:31:09|
|Drowing in Today||DeniMari Z.||Deni- Oh, powerful! “needing just one hour (alone)- It sounds like the song of the poet, or the human, whether poet or not. Of the black, of the numb, of the “slowely dies”, or the “prays to die”, or of the frozen or of those unseeing- and with the speaker- a will to fiercely fight, for a reason to stay- and I think, in joining the writer, the reader, the all- the decision has already been made. morning comes and life continues. Well done.||2015-11-06 21:35:28|
|Dear Anonymous||Lora Silvey||Lora, I wonder, like I often have at the nuances of what will never be, but will always be. The texture of this piece is so personal, it became something I might have written, and remembered exactly the way you wrote it. Strophe, what a brilliant use- so out of use and yet brought alive in your words. Hunger and spirit, characterized in words that exceed all but the awaited kiss. Beautiful and haunting. Well done lady. I'd never tell of the "dusted off", the art stands on it's own, nevertheless.||2015-11-06 21:25:28|
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