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Displaying Critiques 1 to 50 out of 70 Total Critiques.| Poem Title | Poet Name | Critique Given by G. Donald Cribbs | Critique Date |
| The Opposing Attorneys | Debbie Spicer | Debbie, I see this poem has struck a chord here at TPL. Perhaps it has much to do with the falling out of recent months. I have only recently returned here myself, finding it very quiet, and lonely. I am sorry to have missed this poem until now. It must have sailed down the point list and I do try to stick to the top of the list and work my way down. No offense to you. I would hate to have a poem so written as you did for Tamera. Again, no offense to you. As for the whole, I think it was a bit of a statement, rather bold and straightforward. Perhaps too much for this site. I don't know where you're at as a writer, but my hope is to get HONEST critiques and help to improve my writing so it's better, not just okay writing, not just passable. if you're interested, another site you might consider is (the critical poet dot com). I just joined there, and am getting much more helpful advice rather than a bunch of "kissing up," if you know what I mean. Thank you for sharing this poem, and don't miss the spelling/typo in stanza 5, line 2: watch is over, not "watch ia over." If it were me, I might have put that there to test the critiquer on whether they were "planting posterior kisses" or if they truly were "Critiquing" my poem, but that's just me. Warm regards, Don | 2006-08-30 13:04:15 |
| Electoral Math | Fowler Trask | Fowler, Wow, you do a great job of balancing the tension between the grimness of your presidential rule, and the edgy/bizarre things you plan to do with the country and even reality. I quite liked the "just a bit off track" nature of the poem. The short lines running down the page made me read it rather quickly so I could find out exactly what your diabolical plans entailed. Would I vote for you? I don't know, there are some sinister thoughts in these lines, but that doesn't mean this isn't a fine poem. You take the reader on a humorous journey to find what your fantasies are in this "what if" poem. Thanks for sharing this with us. I enjoyed it immensely! Warm regards, Don | 2006-08-27 16:23:53 |
| Who are the Terrorists? | James C. Horak | James, I am not sure if I am reading this right or wrong, but I'm not getting what it is you mean here. Perhaps that is intended? I'm seeing a lot of description in the first stanza, but am unsure of what it means. Abstract ideas like courage, doubt, don't tell me where we are, what's going on, etc. The first concrete image is the spewing mouth, bubbling blood like a fountain. I get that, that's pretty strong stuff there. Not sure what you mean by "some bomb has found to sort/from life." In the next line, is "it" referring back to the body, the blood, or what? Then, with the parenthetical, you don't close the parentheses. I'm not sure if your "those to brave little farms" is correct, or if you meant "those two brave little," or "those too brave little.." My favorite line is "But no longer...and that merciful, it did no last to ask." But, I don't know what you mean by it exactly. Perhaps there are some grammatical things going on here that need some revision? I'd like to help you with revising this poem, but I just don't know what is your intended meaning. My only desire in writing this critique is to help you as a writer. Please do not be offended by this critique. I would rather that you be offended by my never critiquing your poetry. So, here is my feedback, for what it is worth. Take what you like and leave the rest, and if this is helpful to you, I'd love to see a revision posted so I can better assess your fine writing here. Thanks for posting it, and thanks for taking the risk to share this poem. Warm regards, Don | 2006-08-27 16:18:39 |
| The Cellar | marilyn terwilleger | Marilyn, Wow, you really climbed inside the mind of this one! I might have thought this was a personal account without your note. Nice end rhymes and slant rhymes. The couplets work perfectly since it's a dance between an abuser and the abused. Love the imagery of the "mighty cage of his ribs," which shows he is more of a prisoner than the abused. The tension builds with the darkness, the casual mentioning of beatings, and the dread of the coming beating tomorrow. You nailed this one, Excellent! Of course, I wouldn't expect any less from a poet such as yourself. Thanks for sharing this one with us. Warm regards, Don | 2006-08-27 06:59:14 |
| Becoming Acquainted With Bly | Mell W. Morris | Mell, I'm so glad you've found your way to Bly. An excellent masterful writer, well deserving of this admirable tribute. I too am a HUGE Bly fan. Love to go to the library and hear him reading poems and poetry. His lectures are awesome. He does a great job with translations too, such as Rainer Maria Rilke's poetry from the German. Very well done. Thank you for sharing this one with us. I'm glad you did. I quite enjoyed it. Excellent as always in the details you've selected, line by line, all the way down. Excellent, my friend! Warm regards, Don | 2004-09-07 06:14:08 |
| Parade | marilyn terwilleger | Marilyn, This is certainly a fun one! I can picture the band marching down the street lined left and right with onlookers like the narrator, tapping her foot to the beat. I thought I saw you in a majorette uniform waving flags and twirling batons, and such. At least, that's what our band called them...drill team majorettes. And, I marched in the band with a saxophone. I remember the hot suits we had and then the new fancy suits we got and all the fun times. Thanks for sharing this poem and evoking those memories. A fun romp down memory lane. Very well orchestrated, and your structure is a rhythmic toe tapping read. Warm regards, Don | 2004-08-01 09:47:49 |
| Dining with Coon | Jana Buck Hanks | Jana, You've done an amazing job of weaving the whimsical with the blunt reality of things from childhood memories and ways people parent their children. I was totally enthralled reading this one, caught with the question of what would happen and what "coon" meant. I was expecting a more redneck idea of it...what daddy got while hunting sort of thought. So, the ending was a big surprise. Your structure works well, and draws the reader through the meal, and I found myself sitting at the table too, waiting to find out what was going to happen. Thank you very much for sharing this, and for so deftly weaving two opposing forces (funny and serious) into one great poem. Warm regards, Don | 2004-07-28 16:44:06 |
| Kaddish for Ginsberg | Rachel F. Spinoza | Dear Rachel, Wow, this is quite an epic piece. I'm glad Mark's poem sparked your rememberance of this one. I enjoyed the whole thing, and I am impressed at how well you sustain this longer form of poem for the reader. I certainly wasn't bored as I read my way down the page. Wow. You take the reader on quite an amazing journey, and your tribute to Ginsberg is apropos. Very well done. Here are a few thoughts: Okay, Alan-so you up and died and there was Robert Hass, (quoting something someone said ) [I would take the space out from between "said" and ")"] which lead to how you have disappeared into poetry [what an amazing way to put that. I love this line!!] that’s true-- you have, I think, been disappeared into [are you sure you want, "have,...been disappeared..." ?] your muse and God willing into mine and into graffiti of yellow restroom walls and whitewashed windowless cells and G-d help us, the pages [you use "God" above and "G-d" here. Do you mean to do that?] of Newsweek. And time. [did you purposely not capitalize "time" here? It still conveys both meanings either way...] holy, holy, holy The finest blown minds of our generation are floating in or headed toward that dark sea near Sausalito near North beach near nirvana in the final baptism of Absolut reality [nice double meaning here. I love how you do this throughout, "vodka/Absolute..." nice combo of meaning here] 2. holy, holy fools [nice tension with the change from "holy, holy, holy" to "holy, holy fools..." works well!] the best minds of the new generation are tattooing slogans [I really like this section. I really feel the connection with Ginsberg] and insects on breasts, hips thighs, smoking the dope you threw into garbage pails following you up mountains [zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance, anyone?] toward gurus and coming home to Starbucks to throw themselves naked over cliffs of cant [should this be, "can't" here?] or worse taking LSATs and growing into polished wing tips and [ha ha ha, I laughed at this line...my dad got me a pair of those once! yikes] jumping out of buildings when their job is downsized or their computer develops a fatal error and all data, Dada, datum [nice work here with the sounds of words and the "d" sounds...works well] disappearing in a blink and a whine You say, Ferlinghetti, that Alan is with the great lover death and death is going down on him in a continium of bliss [This was my favorite part...I really like how you crafted this section] but that sweet companion is going down on you and me and the best and worst minds of all generations 3. so, fine… we might as well wrap ourselves in Jazz or k.d lang and howl with you Alan, like so many deserted deranged ,disheveled, [again, remove space between "deranged" and the comma, add it before "disheveled,"] angel coyotes barking up all trees to find the right one and marking hydrants with hot streams of prose [this is by far the BEST line of the poem. WOW!!!!!] Holy, holy , holy But you, Alan, are lying cupped with the great lover death-- your mantra simmering in the animal soup of time in spite of your dictum: "Die when you die." So many wonderful things going on here. You said you dug this up, so it's an older poem of yours. Wow. I am very impressed, and quite enjoyed reading this wonderful tribute to Ginsberg. Very well done. Thank you for sharing it with us. I'm glad Mark sparked your interest in going back to find it. Warm regards, Don | 2004-07-21 10:00:51 |
| The Force That Through My Muse Drives The O | Mell W. Morris | Mell, This poem truly smacks of the "poetic voice," that clear, undefineable, yet clearly unmistakable voice that a gifted poet has. This poem has such wit and character. I laughed and laughed as I read it over and again. Wow. Wow. Wow. I am amazed at how well you weave the irony of such an odd thing to write a love poem about, and yet, how original all the same...and how easily and seamlessly you weave Dylan Thomas and somewhat TOO much of a confessional nature to you're poem...heh heh, talk about brutally honest!! You may have "mad kudos" from me. Loved it, loved it, loved it!! My only poetical suggestion is to consider a revision with a bit of attention to the internal rhymes you've so beautifully laid down the middle of the page. Loved how the letter m surrounded the letter "o" like a horny lover throughout the poem. Very well done, my friend. Warm regards, Don | 2004-07-20 17:40:08 |
| A Poem Is. . . | Joanne M Uppendahl | Dear Joanne, I quite enjoyed this poem of yours. It has a nice beat and rhythm and the tone is light and smooth as it flows from line to line. You've created a vivid image compounded and peeling back like the layers of an onion. Some beautiful and exquisite work in the imagery of the poem especially. Here are some thoughts: a needle to lance a boil, a pen to draw a lily’s face. It's a wedding rite of silk and prayers, (beautiful and unexpectedly lovely image!) a paper whisper whistling through woods (love the whisper/whistling/woods...nice alits) of wind, of rain. It’s clatter, like the snapping of twigs while deer eat crabapples. (I love, love, LOVE this image. Very nice detail make this work well!) Maybe a poem can sing like water going down (I like how the enjambment here makes this reader stop and think about the possibilities of "water going down" and where...) the drain or blood coursing through the (nice correlation. Yes, water and blood are often related...) veins, or your deepest attention (nice enjambment here too...) to the green field. It’s your soul leaping (I know what that's like! ;) through the pages-- heart beating, breaking like waves, slapping like a beaver’s tail on the pond of today. (Wonderful ending here. I love the work of the beaver and how it relates to the saliency of the now and of the present. Being mindful of what's important rather than living in the past or the future. Nicely done, nicely laid out and peeled back for us, the reader.) Warm regards, Don | 2004-07-19 17:07:44 |
| Portrait of Loss As Three Styles of Music | Mell W. Morris | Mell, This is definitely a showstopper of a piece! My favorite is the first one, Dirge. I found it a breathtaking description of two people at the end of themselves. Nicely constructed and choice of words. I loved "rubber band." "roister" and "mizzling" are also excellently used. A nice reference to the Red Wheelbarrow poem. Can't think of the poet, although I know I know him...don't you hate that when it slips your mind? Anyway, thanks for the great read. Warm regards, Don | 2004-07-12 13:53:02 |
| Sleepless in Colombo | Mark Andrew Hislop | MAH, This is a very fine poem. You have crafted an excellent pattern in your stanza that you repeat and alter to fit the topic of each new stanza, building on the one before. Your language and your diction flow nicely, you have a good use of aliteration, enjambment and endstop. I must confess I'm irked by the ending, but I think it's true to the character in the poem. So, by irking me, I am saying you did your job well as a writer. It's just a bit too sadistic, or pessimistic for me, but again, it's true to the character, so what you have here is right on. Good work, my friend. I haven't seen a lot from you lately. Glad to see some more stuff posted on here. Thanks for sharing it. Warm regards, Don | 2004-07-12 07:10:46 |
| Atelier Prayer | Jana Buck Hanks | Jana, I can clearly see you with a canvas and easel slathering these delicious words of poetry across the page. Wonderful and sustained images and diction which carry the reader all the way through this decadent piece. What a wonderful exercise in fun and the use of writing to layer and slather it on! I can see big gooey globs of "paint" making this a poem you not only read but one you touch and feel as well. An enjoyable read. Thank you very much for sharing it with us. Warm regards, Don | 2004-07-10 12:31:02 |
| Impurities are the Weight of Water | Molly Johnson | Molly, What a fine and excellent poem this is! I love the topic of fishing and all the images you used to evoke the feelings surrounding this activity with the reader. You have a wonderful way of crafting your lines and using unique words to showcase your poetic talent and craft. I love words like, "wetted, yipped, sodden, snick," among others. I love how you use "reel rainbows" to allude to "real rainbows." Nice touches all of them. I do have one suggestion, which you are welcome to take or leave. I like your title, but I think it is a bit long and with "impurities," it takes something away from the ending of "remembered purity." I think it is still conveyed without and I love the title, "The Weight of Water." Just a thought. Thank you very much for posting and sharing this one with us! Warm regards, Don | 2004-07-08 10:21:11 |
| Tending Tending | Molly Johnson | Molly, How about, "Before the Buds Burst Forth"? Nice job with the mood and tension here. Your poem speaks true to both the wonder of life just before it is born and the process and joy of lovemaking. Nice contrasts! Well done. Warm regards, Don | 2004-07-05 16:27:49 |
| Goodbye, Ophelia, We Pine | Thomas Edward Wright | TEW, I can see you're going with the response poem format here. Nice allusions to both BJ Tate's poems (I'm sure Brenda laughed out loud at this one) and Joanne's "Pine" poem. Equally wonderful is the fact that you can take such a challenge, and run with it. Your gift is a joy to share in the reading. I love reading these types of poems (you did one about Mark last month) by you and seeing the richness and the depth you bring to it in your own "scary bunny" way. Warm regards, Don | 2004-06-14 12:03:11 |
| In Anticipation of the Pines | Joanne M Uppendahl | Joanne, I'm glad you reposted this one. I noticed the first one, added it to my voting list and then went to bed, thinking I could critique it the next day. It was gone! I think the only major difference is the ending. I can't remember the first one, I think it had to do with dreams or something, but I like this ending better. Good correction on your part! The 's' sounds throughout this piece are like the wind buzzing through the branches of the trees, whistling along the coast as you speed in your car. The 'b' sounds are a nice contrast, with their sudden jerking stop. You're getting more adept at using the natural sounds of words and parts of words to convey deeper meaning just with their own simple function. Well done! Great 'b' and 'u' sounds too! You rock. The poem topic itself is a nice tip-of-the-hat to your favorite, Mary Oliver. I love the enjambment of the "sweet smoke of star-tasting/fires dotted down the beach at dark." It reads both with a comma and without a comma there for double meanings. Nicely done! (i.e. if you put a comma where the line break is, you get smokey star-tasting, and fires dotting the beach. Without it, you also get star-tasting fires which are dotted down the beach. Wow. I love "lies beside/drowsy shore." It's a great sigh of meaning yawning the reader through to follow what the poem is saying here. Great job. With your ending, I see the Spirit in the wind. With such a deeper meaning, this conveys eternity, hope for tomorrow, possibilities, and optimism among others. A wonderfully rich and deeply written poem! Thanks for sharing it with us. Warm regards, Don | 2004-06-14 11:46:15 |
| Gambling on Mermaids | Thomas Edward Wright | TEW, You've gotta lay off the booze and other stuff...that is, unless you really want to see mermaids wherever you go. But, perhaps this is the gamble you're making here with this one. You want to drink enough to reach the point where you'd dive into the green ocean (a wonderful image which reveals much to the reader of the life and wonder beneath the surface...subconscious thoughts in feminine forms) and find your way among mermaids. There is definitely a connection between the stars and constellations above and the ocean, particularly the living green ocean below. A nice connection drawn into the layers of meaning here. Well done, my friend. Your journey is not alone here, your companion goes with you. A nice way to draw the conclusion as you do, "I am not alone in wanting..." This is a journey we are all on. But, you allude to the fact that there's something mysterious about the spiritual nature and we are all aware of it, as mermaids call from the deep. An enjoyable read, and one which makes me think. I will have to reflect upon this one for a long while. Warm regards, Don | 2004-06-08 12:51:13 |
| 10:26 | Sandra J Kelley | Sandra, Wow. There is great tension throughout this piece. It reminds me of Thessalonians, or Revelation...kind of a feeling that references the end of the world. Certainly a spiritual piece. I get the sense that your spirit became acutely aware of the feeling that there is significance in the 10:26 point in time. Things happening all around the world, but ironically, the fact is that it is not 10:26 everywhere in the world, just in two places, but even still, those places are on the opposite ends of the earth and they're a.m. and p.m., on two different days. What does that reveal about the direction here? Where is it your soul and/or your subconscious is heading? I am eager to know where that is! I was totally hooked by the casual way you delivered the first stanza. "people are forgetting what stopped them" is superb! I love the ending. Hope this feedback helps you in your revision process. I'm definitely looking forward to what you come up with. Warm regards, Don | 2004-06-08 10:07:11 |
| Return to Reeow | Regis L Chapman | Reeg, Thank you for adding clarification in the Additional Notes section. You're sublety here would have confounded my brain from catching the deeper meanings here. Wow. Much more powerful now that I went back over this one for a reread. A very well written and compelling piece here. I am humbled by how effortlessly you utilize the skill of end rhyme to add form and structure to this piece. Much more articulately, however, is the tone set by taking such a serious issue, the relationship with your mom growing up, and the "lighter" way of bringing it out with the imagery of a mother cat looking for her next jerk in a kind of alley cat fashion. No disrespect to your mom. Just understanding and relating to the way her choices affected you growing up. A thought provoking and admirable piece. Thank you for sharing it with us. Warm regards, Don | 2004-06-08 10:01:17 |
| The Guru | Mark Andrew Hislop | Mark, I'm not sure what to make of this my friend. I've read it over a few times and have not been able to press in close enough to feel the sweat from it, to know your full intent. You may simply chalk it up to my ineptness, or ignorance. However, I do see in this a form, a structure, and the fact that you stayed within the requirements of end rhyme and stanza length. My gut reaction is that your language is a bit too abstract, possibly vague, or simply not completely clear to the reader. Am I supposed to know what you're saying here, or do you have an intended audience? I mean no disrespect, and I certainly don't want to offend you. I'm simply writing to you as a fellow poet, who has read several of your poems, and who thought he had a decent idea regarding your writing style, but you've stumped me here. What is your purpose and intent here? What are you trying to get out of the poem? I hope this perspective helps, even if it's a bit discouraging. Please forgive my lack of discretion in softening the blow. I hope this can help you look at this one with a fresh eye, and hopefully come back with an even better poem. Before I offend you any further, I'll close this for now. Warm regards, and I look forward to reading your other poems as you post them on the Link. I hope it won't bother you if I continue to critique your poems. Blessings, Don | 2004-06-07 13:57:24 |
| What I Wish For In A Friend | Cathy Hill Cook | Cathy, I have not seen you here before on the Link, so welcome! I hope you find a home here and enjoy reading, critiquing, and posting your own poems here. I liked this poem, and think you have a nice casual or conversational tone to your writing. That's not an easy thing to come across without sometimes sounding disjointed or perhaps clunky, but you manage to speak smoothly and clearly and your lines flow nicely into one another. Good job! There is certainly truth to the subject of this poem. So many truths we think of when pondering what a true friend is. If you do indeed have this in someone, count yourself lucky and blessed! It is a rare gift to have a friend like the one you describe here so vividly. I am reminded of David and Jonathan from the Bible, their friendship transcended class, culture, and stands as an example of how two people can put aside their differences and give of themselves and receive from another. This poem reminds me of that, and I appreciate that you shared this with us. I hope my comments are helpful to you as the writer, to know what a reader thought of your poem. I don't have any suggestions for improving this, I think you said it all and you have left nothing out. I look forward to reading more by you. All the best, Don | 2004-06-06 11:34:08 |
| The Defining Moment | Thomas Edward Wright | TEW, Wow, and you're the one who once told me I had to have MY meds adjusted! I am stunned. I don't know what to say, but I can't speak Hawaiian anyway. However, I do speak English, Spanish, Latin, Greek and Chinese. I also know basic sign language. Does any of that help me to grasp the deeper meaning of a heavy woman's tattooed ass? Not quite, but I do appreciate your humorous approach to Mell's verbiage. You metriculated this poem quite surreptitiously. Warm regards, Don | 2004-05-30 22:08:59 |
| Hiding | Nancy Anne Korb | Nancy, You may think the message is hidden, but a perceptive reader would argue the topic is an abused child turning from his/her past, trying to overcome some severe childhood hurts and has perhaps found the faith to do so. I have not read a poem by you before, so I know I am being quite appallingly presumptive. Please forgive me if this has offended you. I am simply responding with my gut as a writer and a reader. Perhaps this poem is more of a mirror than I realize. All of that to say your poem is striking, haunting, and has resonated deeply with this reader. I hope you don't mind my comments, and I hope they at least encourage you to know your writing has touched someone unknown to you previously. Thank you for sharing this with us. Warm regards, Don | 2004-05-30 21:57:46 |
| The Color of Harmony | Mell W. Morris | Mell, Every poem of your that I am fortunate enough to read just makes my respect for you as a talent and a writer greater and greater. There are many who call themselves poets, but few who actually are. I believe you are truly a "poet." I learn so much with the way you craft a poem, laying it delicately on a page as if a rare fish caught, filleted, and deboned, ready for searing and wine, or champagne, as you've alluded to here. Yours is a delicate art, a finely crafted and tuned note, perfect in pitch and leaping off the page as the reader's soul leaps in his chest from reading the poem. My comments here are sincere. I have a great deal of respect for your work, and I appreciate your sharing it with us so we may learn from you. Here are just a few comments: The Color of Harmony [you take it on with the title, an abstract thought made concrete by stunning imagery and intonations.] I forget how joy feels until it returns [a great beginning line. I want to read this!] And then it is akin to Coltrane realms. His hand at the helm, matter falls away [I love this, "matter falls away/from itself."] From itself. Whatever the situation, The emotional part of any event has more Appeal: the shadow cast more interesting [your images are so well crafted as with this one] Than its source. My days extend in grief [nice poetics here with grief/relief and strive/save] Until relief appears and I strive to save Myself from me in between. My feelings Resist words so how can you know what [a great question to be pondered for a long while!] I cannot say? I seek peace in mind and body And I perpetuate while droplets of happy Punctuate often enough to guarantee my Continued search. Then comes the hour When my being reappears, renewed, no ails, Resonant as both tines of a tuning fork. Ah, there will be high C and champagne Uncorked for all notes on the scale... And especially abounding, The sound of me. This last stanza is exquisite. Every poem should build to this level of sophistication. You nail it with this ending. It stands strong and alone and everything before it builds right up to the ending. Simply marvelous to behold. Thank you for sharing it with us. Warm regards, Don | 2004-05-26 18:15:16 |
| Hush, a Young Bard Sings Once More | Thomas Edward Wright | TEW, I'm not a real car afficianado myself, but I quite like the tender tone with which you voice this elegant piece. Nice form, rhyme, and metered word throughout. At first I saw you in the side yard with an easel and paint set, scrubbing out a watercolor on a blank canvas against the backdrop of nature you have tucked next door. Then, your notes section suggests you're out joy riding, or preparing to go out joyriding in your beamer. Either way, the mood you evoke in the lines and manner of putting words to paper is quite wonderful. Thank you for sharing this one with us. I love, "Skipping off down the long haul," and "even in the mourning," where your double meaning comes through quite clear. Masterful, maestro! pianissimo... Warm Regards, Don | 2004-05-26 14:31:58 |
| For Whom The Young Bird Sings | Thomas Edward Wright | TEW, I'm surprised by the heighted level of sophisticated language here, but enjoyed the poem. This works very well from yardwork to the ending, the voice of god to whomever would listen... I like the "drop glove and listen." A nice allusion to the story of Martha and Mary, who had Jesus as a guest, and Martha was busy with work to prepare the meal and all the things, and Mary sat at his feet. Jesus said Mary was blessed, while Martha worried too much. Perhaps she should have "dropped glove and listened?" This is a nice way to bring that idea forward and make it fresh again. Well done, my friend. So, why are you doing yardwork? Not enough neighborhood kids wanting to earn a few bucks? Or, do you like yardwork? I guess you must have that genetic makeup. I hear it's hereditary... Warm regards, Don | 2004-05-26 14:19:27 |
| LOVE | housam majid jarrar | Housam, I have not read any of your poems before. This is the first one I have read. I must say I was surprised at how well you capture many of the aspects and qualities that pertain to love. This is a topic humans have spent centuries trying to understand, and you have said so much in such a short space. I must say to you that I am very impressed with your knowledge and skills in putting these words down so well together. Very well done! My favorite line is: "For love is the most beautiful thing/to resonate or just perfectly be said." A truth I am sure you know by having found it to be true in your life. Your challenge at the end is also heavy with wisdom. I appreciate the way you put this together, and I am glad you shared it with us here at the Poetic Link. Thank you for allowing me to share my thoughts on your poem. Warm regards, Don | 2004-05-24 20:46:15 |
| Hush, The Young Bird Sings Once More | Joanne M Uppendahl | Joanne, Another beautiful poem of springtime in the garden. You deftly capture the allure of Oliver's poem, the penchant she has as a doer, a seeker in her poetry. She goes out to nature to find truths and then uses the poem to expound upon them. I think you do this here. I can sense the awe and excitement you have in hearing the bird's call, in finding the bird "just to have a glimpse of it, perhaps know it's name, etc." That "wanting to know" is what is so captivating about Oliver's poetry. I think you are becoming better and better with each poem in that regard. I enjoyed this one by you and I'm glad you posted it so we could experience it. My favorite moment is when you consider whether you've imagined the singing or not, if it's just a memory or something of the present. There's a lot going on with that. "Then you call again most clearly" is brilliant. There's a leap going on there. I look forward to the next oliveresque poem by you. Warm regards, Don | 2004-05-24 20:32:13 |
| Ocean City Weekend | Edwin John Krizek | Edwin, I like the potential here with these three "mini poems" or vignettes which make up the content of your poem. I think there's a lot of good here to work with and I think this can have a tremendous impact depending upon your intentions. I would like to offer some feedback which I think might help make this stand out stronger on the page, or have a more profound impact. As my mom said, take what you like and leave the rest. I like the casual tone and mood of this poem. You do a great job with the atmosphere (Literally in stanza 1, figuratively throughout the piece) I like the topic of the beach, lots of meaty potential there! I like how you broke it up into Weather, Dream, Newsstand. Those work well, and add to the piece overall. I think separately, these work well as vignettes. What I don't think you're able to do successfully here is to tie the three together more. Your inferences and phrases hint at a connection, but they remain hidden from the reader. Perhaps you know the way this connects, because you might be writing about real events, but you need to do a bit of tweaking to bring this up to the surface more, and let the reader get it. I think with that one correction, this poem would leap off the page and astonish us all! I challenge you to a revision, and I eagerly await the next posting. Thank you for letting us have a chance to offer our advice, I hope this helps, and if not, I hope I haven't been a total waste of your time. I welcome your reply. Warm regards, Don | 2004-05-23 20:15:59 |
| Condensation | Mark Andrew Hislop | Mark, You are certainly getting into your groove with this one. Quite remarkable the growth you are making as a poet, in leaps and bounds, and this one is quiet, confident, and has a strong presence poetically throughout the poem. You have found your voice. Now it is the time to learn to hear your poet's voice audibly as you write so that you can retain what is unique to the way you put words and phrases together on the page. I am confident you will master this in your next steps. As for this poem, it is very well crafted, well put together and does an awesome job of setting the reader up for the marvelous ending. The title hints at this but doesn't give it away. Wonderful, outstanding, you are rockin it with this one! Here are a few comments: In the matter of a word, or two, That tap themselves along [nice alliteration with the 't' sounds here. I like the idea of words tapping, nicely done.] On finger-fibres that can channel the cosmos, [finger-fibers? Check spelling...nice word combo though!] I’ll flesh out a miracle. [this is pure brilliance. You've got your voice] First, refresh yourself in a page Of this portable white bathroom Scrabbled with black roman tiles. This whole stanza rocks. I love the idea of the contrast of poetry and bathroom imagery and the inks and tiles overlapping. I get the picture of you scribbling (nice word, scrabbled) a poem on toilet paper and posting it here to be read. Hilarious. The scrabbled makes more sense with the whole double meaning of tiles and bathroom tiles. I'm telling you, you've got your voice here. Gently rinse your eyes in this ink. Then, with a familiar sting you’ll see it: Nice tension with the idea of "gentle" being paired with rinsing eyes in ink. A funny image, but goes well with what you're going for here in meaning. The sting is a great "leaping" moment here to the spiritual. Very well put together. Your face, splashed across a mirror. This last line is AWESOME! Somewhat unexpected, and totally nails the idea, to try to absorb a poem you need to lean your face into it, get the ink all over you, get the sting of what it's saying. Brilliance. Thank you for sharing this voter-worthy piece! Warm regards, Don | 2004-05-20 07:47:12 |
| japanese verse 48 (Worms) | Erzahl Leo M. Espino | Erzahl, I like the tension and mood you created here with the passive voice/past tense. It's already happening, has already happened and can't be stopped. Worms just have this fate and there is no way around it. A bit moribund but true to the image you are creating with this haiku. I like all the 'h' sounds in your consonants. The vowel sounds transition between the strong 'a' of the first line, the 'e' sound in the second line, and the 'i' sound in the final line. This suggests a cry of anguish upon the part of the worms as they are caught baited and hooked for the fishes. A nice twist with the idea of romantic passion (fishes kissing the worms) versus physical passion (satisfying the hunger, the belly of the fishes). These are closely related enough that transposing them makes for an interesting ending to your fine poem. Thank you for sharing this with us. I quite enjoyed it. Warm regards, Don | 2004-05-20 07:22:26 |
| Remembering | Karen Ragan | Karen, I enjoyed this poem even more than the last one. I think this one is truer to your writer's voice as a poet. I really like the style, how you used the words and the layout and the "emptiness" of having no punctuation to say so many things in layers with this poem is incredibly well done. Writing about death is a tough topic to speak on. For so many it's overdone, it's all been said before, but you have found a fresh way to say many things about the struggle with faith, with knowing what is and is not beyond, for suffering of a loved one going through such a tough death, and for you to process and accept it as well. A marvelous piece of work, with this one. Thank you for sharing it with us. I have a similar poem posted about my mother in law, called, "The Death of A Poet." I'd welcome your comments on that one. We seem to have a shared thought this month in that regard. Here's some feedback on this poem: Quietly I slip into the room staring at the still silent figure hearing only one heartbeat shadows shift and change The 's' sounds throughout thsi first stanza suggest the "shhh" of silence in the somber and stillness of the room, almost a holiness with "slip/staring/still/silent/shadows/shift". Well done! With "hearing only one heartbeat, you question whether it's yours or your "grandpa's..." Nice tension with that. "Shadows shift and change" provide a sense of forboding, finality, that the end has come or is coming very soon. Silence so final I hear its echo Peace mingles with coldness Numb pain rises in my throat I cringe and slightly shiver Here, you transition between the 's' sound to a similar silibant sound of 'c's which illustrate the clench of the throat when one is overwhelmed by emotions and their throat is caught in tears, weeping, and anguish. A great job with "echo/coldness/cringe" and the surrounding "silence/so/its/mingles/coldness/rises/slightly/ shiver". This works very well. Life reached its climax in the cool morning mist slipping away without notice death slithered quickly past I love "death slithered quickly past." Such a beautifully written line. You pack this stanza with weight just in that line alone. unwelcome faceless void sucking essence of all human personality spitting only the shell of existence in memory of its hungry wake The devourer, death has come. You deliver a vivid image here beginning with the word, "sucking." That begins the sound and feel of a body losing its soul and the idea of the "shell" being spit back out in its wake is so powerful. Wow. emptiness stripping frail form fears tumble in the darkness whispering of mortality leaving heavy questions Your use of enjambment here with "frail form/fears tumble" adds well to the piece. Fear forms or the frail form fears...nicely done. Yes, most certainly heavy questions. This is a nice leap into the rest of the poem where you grapple with the spirituality and faith issues. reminding me of his pain, of my own pain pulsing rapidly through my heart as I gaze at his rigid face Nice tie-in to the first stanza's lone heartbeat. This sinks it in that yours was the only one still beating, that his time had come when you entered the room. My fingers lightly trace wrinkles of his forehead last gesture of caring after weeks of waiting With only his shell remaining, facing death like a horrible mirror transfixed, one must find a way to connect with the individual. A tenderly written picture of tracing the wrinkles in his forehead. A gesture full of weight and purpose. hoping for a miracle seeing such fear unmask behind those failing eyes remembering I had given comfort, some strength a prayer to soothe stormy moments when faith failed as cancer crawled within This section is what sells the piece for me. How death has come and gone, and you are left naked and empty here to grapple with faith, with God himself (like Jacob), yet trying to keep your hip from coming out of its socket. Your answer is significant. To look upon the role you played, that you had done some good, that you were able to guide him in words and gestures. Even with the force of cancer ravaging his body. The emptiness is tangible, yet profound. You say this so well. Steel stretcher rolls slowly out Finality of separation haunts leaving all who cared behind to wonder, remembering Hope he is not lost forever remains Faith fights the dark curse, hearing my trembling whisper to deaf ears "you've finally made it, grandpa" I love how you illustrate the numbed shock one feels when faced with death. "leaving all who cared behind/to wonder.." Nice enjambment, again. You finish with faith. A great way to bring it full circle and offer a lovely tribute to a man so dear to you. Thank you for sharing this with us. Warm regards, Don | 2004-05-19 09:18:31 |
| New Chapter | Karen Ragan | Dear Karen, I'm pretty new here myself, so I haven't had the chance to see your other writing. Glad to see you've been able to find your way back here. I hope you are encouraged by other writers here at the link. I know I have been myself. My intention with reading and critiquing your poem is to offer constructive feeback so that you can take what you like and leave the rest (my mom always said that) and either challenge you to become the best writer you can be, or encourage you to do better. That said, I'll move on to the poem. I welcome your comments back so that I can better myself as a fellow poet and critiquer as well. An apt title to start things out. You are one who "tells it like it is." I respect that. In stanza one, you paint a picture of a woman who has to swallow being one uped by a younger woman. The difficulty lies in the fact that it's not your husband running off with a younger woman, its your son doing what sons do--they grow up and get married. Nicely done. In stanza two, we are at the wedding ceremony, sitting among the family members and friends. You've incorporated a few different ways of conveying your meaning with the stage and the actors, the ceremony itself, and the chapters and characters of a book. All of these work well together, and pinpoint different aspects of meaning. In stanza three we are faced with the facts. Love has happened here. You can see it clearly in the flickering candles and in their eyes. You know what this means. Your time is up. Your role has changed, your character has been rewritten. Not an easy thing to face after all the hard work and dedication you selflessly gave as his mother. In the fourth stanza, your decision a firm resolution, you nobly determine to take your cue from them, to let them dictate how this will play out, and allowing them space to move and grow in their new roles as spouses so they can get their footing before you know what that means for you and the time you will have with your son and new daughter in law. A big unknown. I feel like I'm right there in it. You've done a great job of walking us through the journey as a reader. I myself being a son, I can relate, but not in the same way. I appreciate knowing your perspective and seeing how you dealt with this challenge in your life. Thank you for taking the risk to share this with us. You are a strong woman for doing so. I am glad I had the chance to read it. Thanks very much. Warm regards, Don | 2004-05-17 22:31:30 |
| there was another tree | zen sutherland | Zen, I really like this one. I've come back to it a few times and read it over and over again. There's something very appealing and intriguing about it. I like the twist you give to the whole creation story. That's a great way to start a poem if you're ever stuck, just rewrite history a bit and use it to tell/reveal something fresh or different about the human condition. I think that's what you've achieved well with this one. Good work. I must say that Able is not how you spell his name. So, a minor correction, but his name is spelled, "Abel." I like how your title flows right into the body of the poem. That doesn't always work so well, but it works well here. You are a good story teller. You give just enough info to clue us into what you're talking about and then you weave in the message the poem delivers. The full effect of the meaning is just beyond my reach. I can sense there's something with this ending surrounding the whole "a day is as a thousand years" thing, but I'm not quite sure of your intended meaning. Perhaps you meant to leave it open to interpretation, which is fine, but if you're meaning to have the reader arrive at a specific understanding, you might need to tweak this a bit. Otherwise, I quite enjoyed it. The visual sensory imagery in the middle is very well done. Almost like a "list of things" but it's actually well crafted and a variety of assorted senses and images which fill out the leaves on the tree quite nicely. Thanks for sharing this one with us. Warm regards, Don | 2004-05-17 09:06:27 |
| Caprio | DeniMari Z. | DeniMari, It seems to me this poem is about "soul mates" or someone who "knows" someone in a way that is way beyond normal. A special connection that can be anything from a friend to a spouse. It's so important as you state to know yourself, to face your past and to let it be the past. Living in the present is the challenge we all find in the day to day. Spiritual growth is no small thing. It's tough, it's hard, and it can be painful too. Especially if that process involves facing tough things in one's childhood and finding peace with them. Believe me, I know. That's part of what made me a poet, an observer, one who looks into the depths of a thing and determines what I should make of it. Enough about me. I share what I share just to tell you that your poem is powerful, it has a true message, and it has spoken to me deeply. I hope that was your intention when you wrote it, because you nailed it! Thank you for sharing this one with us here. Warm regards, Don | 2004-05-16 23:01:15 |
| Of Flowers, Bees and Meteors | Joanne M Uppendahl | Joanne, How lovely this one is! I'm seeing a glimpse of a "Blue Dragonfly" hovering just over your shoulder as you wrote this one. Again, very "oliveresque" with the style here. Love it! In stanza 2, do you mean, heaven[s]/I hope to reach"? I love the personification with the strong stems and leafy arms. Wonderfully done. This is my FAVORITE stanza (below). Just rolls out like honey to the ear, to the reader's eye. The best is, "hot coral hymns." You nailed it with that one! They fling sweet-lipped signals to bees and me, sing hot coral hymns at noon, hum blue tunes at dusk. Amazing. Simply amazing! What's great about this ending is how you set it up with the pretense of the hymn they sing and you give all this wonderfully precise, visual imagery that focuses in on their "faces"--this is masterful work! This just makes me about crazy, trying to lean into the page close enough so I can almost hear what they're singing. Loved it, loved it. A sweet evening ride. Thanks for sharing, Warm regards, Don | 2004-05-14 18:30:33 |
| By The Seat Of My Pants | Marcia McCaslin | Marcia, A delightful one, this! I loved the whole tongue-in-cheek tone and lightheartedness here. Very well done. It's nice to smile through a poem. Thanks for that. I'm not sure if you did this on purpose or not, chalk it up to being pretty new here still and not knowing you all that well yet, but if you did, it's very clever to put the last two lines in the "Additional notes section," so as to poke fun at those who critique a sonnet to the letter of the law, and to have just casually "plunked" them there, is hilarious. If that wasn't your intention, however, at least I had a good laugh! Anyway, I quite enjoyed it. I do have a few punctuation sort of minor suggestions, for feedback, so I'll put them here. Of course, please take it with a grain of salt, and if you don't care to use them, no worries! I'm just glad you were willing to put it out there to let the likes of me at it. Thanks for sharing! By The Seat Of My Pants [love it!] It’s by the seat of these blue jeans I write With passion for the newly-written words As pictures, colors[,] slice the winds of night And come to rest like strange nocturnal birds A flutter[,] now and then[,] as places change[.] Some words are not content upon my page[;] They want to fly more fences on the range[.] Well, fare-thee-well--go quickly to engage Another poet’s choice when words are sought But we will meet again soon, like as not[.] Copyright © May 2004 Marcia McCaslin Additional Notes: O please to let this be a sonnet If not, just tack "A Rhyme" upon it Thanks again for brightening up my day! Warm regards, Don | 2004-05-13 20:38:02 |
| Beside the Gate | Joanne M Uppendahl | Dear Joanne, I like this one, but I think it can go a bit farther. I'm going to encourage you here to take a few more steps with this one. I think it's going places. A very good start, though, I must say! I love the concept you're working with here, comparing this life and the one to follow. I love the very personable and approachable debate going on throughout the poem. But, I do have a bit of feedback, so please bear with me as I go through. As my mother said, take what you like and leave the rest. Obviously, this is first and foremost your poem. I would not wish to tread on your toes. So, if I cross a line, please let me know, and I will retract my opinion. Beside the Gate [this does work, since it's not given away until the end. Just a personal pet peeve of mine that a poet use a different phrase to further build upon or draw out some aspect of the poem.] Home is all the truth I know[,] where cares turn to the pillow[,] and marigolds sleep outside my door. [beautiful. very articulate!] Here the steaming cup warms my fingers, and books stand by in somber readiness. [sounds warm and cozy, a delightful place to be!] Seasons grow about th[e] house, like ivy blanketing an old tree. I am held in this space below the stars, above earth’s pumping heart. [I love the calm, yet questioning tone here...very nicely done!] Home is the ["]all the truth I know[" place]; it stays my longing for another place[,] where beside the gate, a radiant angel waits. [you've got just enough here to clue us in to where you've gone in your mind's eye or in your heart, perhaps. A wonderful ending.] Hope that helps! Just wanted to offer my "readerly perspective." Warm regards, Don | 2004-05-13 19:05:11 |
| Prima materia | Mark Andrew Hislop | Mark, This is a great one of yours. Is that latin for the title? The dust we were made of? Some kind of reference like that? Anyway, I love all the enjambment and making your words do double and triple work here. That's great! The best is that last line, thera/pist. There I get the jist that you were "pissed" or might like to throw a fist, perhaps not if you'd been kissed. But, I digress... Mad props for the obscure use of "djinn" in the middle of this one. Don't think I've ever thought to use a word like that. But, then again, my vocab stinks, so there ya go! I also enjoyed the one word lines juxtaposed by the longer length lines. Hey, just don't let them see one another, or they'll get line envy. Good work here, man. Keep it up. You are rockin and rollin here! Don | 2004-05-12 14:15:59 |
| This Leda and Her Swan | Thomas Edward Wright | TEW, Here's the shocker of all: my name is not a pen name. In fact, it's one my parents had a big fight over. Luckily, my dad lost, or I'd also have "wallace" to contend with...although the relation to William Wallace isn't bad...but I digress. Suffice it to say, I come by my name honestly, and that's all there is. I go by my middle name to rebel against this damned society so bent on only using first names and middle initials. My small useless rebellion. Oh, well. Now, onto the poem. If you're like me, you might skip that crap I wrote above, get to the part about your poem that I actually talked about, and then, if you liked it, MAYBE go back over the first part just for kicks. But, who knows? It probably depends on how many beers you've had recently. Here's hoping! I love how you start this with an ejaculation. Not just any ejaculation or wet dream, but Zeus's, by god (notice the lower case here). So, pretty much, it's all about sex. Isn't that the same message the cable company's ramming down my throat? Thanks, didn't need it from you too! Just kidding. I liked the inference that the Greco-Roman architecture somehow came out of this raping of Leda. An intriguing idea. That's what sells your poetry, anyway. It's all about those little details that keeps the reader interested to find out what you're gonna throw out there next. This next stanza, I like to call the "phallic" stanza. For obvious reasons...do I need to explain? Hey, you wrote it, you should know all about those references. So, for that unique approach, I love how you twist it and offer a man who's got a physical disability, and a woman with a genetic disability. Not something we use for topics in our poetry. Not nearly enough. A whole population of people constantly overlooked in so many areas, including poetry. Thanks for that. I think that's awesome. What really sells this poem is the last stanza. All kidding aside, this is what takes a swan, cooks an omelete, and brings the mirror up to our faces for a sharp focus on the darkness within. What a punch in the gut! Terrific. Nothing else to say but simply astounding. I had to catch my breath. An enjoyable read, my friend. Thanks for sharing it with us here. Warm regards, Don | 2004-05-11 22:29:36 |
| Freeway Lemons | Jillian K Sorenson | Jillian, This is my first critique for your poetry. I'm not sure if you've been here awhile or if you're new here at TPL. Welcome. I hope these critiques are helpful for you as a growing writer and poet. I like what you're doing here. It's a good piece of work and it's got a lot of great moments. The lemon imagery is pungent, strong and acerbic. The repetition is good, but I think it might need some tweaking. As my mom always said, when someone gives you advise, take the good, leave the rest. Please take my feedback with a grain of salt. If it's too bitter, spit it out. It is my hope that this feedback is more helpful than not. I love the way you begin this poem. It works great. Love the first stanza. The poem reads a bit prosey at times. In the second stanza, you might trim it down like this: I am suddenly reminded, my experiences when skin is removed; sourness at once shocking, still delicious. I recall you last night If you prefer the line length to be as long as the first and last lines, you can flesh out a bit more in the middle lines. Again, this is a style I use to trim out extraneous verbiage, and get to the meat of the poem. I think of the poem as a book, but each word is a chapter. Make each one count. Keep only what's necessary, and cut out the rest. I use commas and enjambment and line breaks to accomplish this. Swapping out word order also helps to clean up a cluttered poem. Please don't think of this as a slam. I don't mean to come across harsh or haughty. Believe me, I'm learning at this too! I only offer a reader's opinion. If it helps, great, if not, sorry I've wasted your time. The whole bit about making love and comparing a person's body to the skin and underflesh of a lemon. This was both surprising and powerfully effective. I caution you not to use repetition as much as making each reference unique. I'm not sure the braille reference works quite right. That might need some revision. Also, I love the idea with the paper doll ending, but I think you're stopping short here. I think you need to push it farther, reach for what your subconscious was surfacing with this image. That will really punch up this one and make it even better. I'd suggest reading Robert Bly's "Leaping Poetry" to focus in on how to make an image from the subconscious leap from the page, making a spiritual "aha" moment for the reader, and finishing out this very nice poem. Thanks for taking the risk of sharing this with us. I hope this helps! Warm regards, Don | 2004-05-11 09:38:16 |
| Heaven on earth | Mark Andrew Hislop | MAH, I can see the impact John Forbes is having on you with this one. A much more rugged, edgier piece than your usual stuff. It's good to branch out and stretch to find the boundaries, or what's beyond. I think you've climbed the fencepost, flung yourself over, and have hiked a field or two beyond here. That's great. Your tone and language work well here. Even the swearing works. Just make sure that it's intent is right, and not just a cop out or an easy fill in when you use them. Don't let the cursing replace true language here. But, honestly, what you've done here works very well. The image of "screw the world and rape it" was pretty intense stuff for me. Very strong in your writing with that one. I liked the colloquialism of "dacks"...nice! Yes, and men "piss" so you've got the right use there. I have a poem I'll put up here eventually called, "Worms in the Summer Grass" where the main character is a four year old boy. He uses the word pee. For him, it works, but for you, piss is the right word. Thanks for sharing this with us. I'm enjoying the growth journey you are taking here with Forbes' influence. Keep it up and write some more, damnit! Don | 2004-05-11 09:14:26 |
| Australia, My Home | Alexander Inman | Alexander, For a ten year old, you're far beyond your years. You've got a talent, already evident in what you've written in form here. Keep with the form for now. Write in rhyme, learn to hear the meter and the rhythm of words together. Learn to put sounds together and other poetical devices, such as allusion (drawing a connection to something outside your poem, such as a famous description, a quote, a phrase, a book, etc.) or enjambment (when you use the line break at the end of a line to give a double meaning for the words that end the first line and begin the second line). Being from Australia, you'll have a lot of interesting things to write about. Things which are common and everyday for you, such as the wildlife you describe, will be interesting to others. Think about what senses you want to use with each stanza you write and try to limit it to two or three at the most for each stanza. For example, in the first stanza, you use touch/tactile experience such as hot and between my toes, and visual imagery such at red and silk. That's great. Keep working like that and you'll be a published poet before you know it. This poem reads like a postcard. It makes me want to jump on a plane and fly over there just to check it out. I liked the detail you provided with the bushlands and rocks, such as Uluru. Those are the kinds of things which show that you are a talented writer. Take your time and enjoy it, and I'm sure you'll just keep getting better and better. Thanks for taking the risk to share your poetry with us at the Poetic Link. I hope this critique has helped, and I welcome you to read and critique my poems as well. Best of luck to you in all your writing endeavors. Warm regards, Don Cribbs | 2004-05-10 22:05:25 |
| My teacher | Mark Andrew Hislop | Mark, You're right in what you said in the last response. I am seeing a difference here. It's a simple rule of time and numbers. The more you write, the more you learn. I think you are starting to hear your poetic voice more clearly. Perhaps you've attained a greater level of writing sophistication. There are plateaus, though, I'm afraid. I'm in one myself. Which is why I'm here critiquing, because of what it's teaching me to absorb new and current poetry by fellow poets like yourself so that I can find a "road not taken" and get farther up the mountainous path of writing better poetry. I see what you mean by clusters of words. I'd recommend Robert Bly's "Leaping Poetry" which talks about the subconscious and the three brains. Rainer Maria Rilke (german poet) is a great one to read. Also, James Wright (a buddy of Bly's) and Bly himself. "A Little Book on the Human Shadow is good stuff too. For poetry, I suggest "Silence in the Snowy Fields," or just his "Selected Poems." If you've got the time, then take it like a wildman. Seriously. I know for myself, being married, with a son, and taking care of ten kids for our job is hectic, and rarely gives me any time to write. So, be grateful for it if you have it, and use every second of it. You'll be grateful later. I liked this "school crush" piece. Some interesting thoughts going on here. Nice play on words, and playing with how you're laying it out, like before. I love "I'll be a melted icecream." Awesome! I'd work on her persona a bit more. She's a bit too perfect. You played with the Adonis, perhaps another greek metaphor? Face that launched a thousand ships, something in that direction? She hinges completely on that one "orchid in bloom," which isn't bad. It's okay, but it could be better. And, I found the greasy hair part a bit too distracting. Something doesn't sit right with it. I'd say keep it, but tweak it a bit more. Otherwise, a great piece and a nice read. Thanks! Keep believing and listening for that writer's voice. You will hear it. Warm regards, Don | 2004-05-10 21:53:18 |
| Morning | Mark Andrew Hislop | Mark, There's a ton of things going on here. I'm not sure I can fathom all of your layers of meaning, but I'll "take a stab at it here." You do some interesting things here with words. I like how you take them and make them do things that words don't normally do, such as: "to peck their imperatives." Very interesting. I get a picture with this poem, of someone sitting at a curbside cafe, with a drink of water, perhaps a coffee, and a paper, near a park, watching the crowds, the birds, the traffic and such all going by in a rush. Perhaps that's why you go with "Morning" as the title? There's something about the mood, not entirely committal, not entirely enigmatic. It really comes across with the last line, "have another stab/every tomorrow." I appreciate your risk-taking with this one. I do not intend that as an insult, but a compliment. Edgy, against the grain. Like that. Thank you for sharing this one with us. Warm regards, Don | 2004-05-10 16:54:47 |
| Just For Fun | Marcia McCaslin | Marcia, A witty and enjoyably amusing work of form verse. I enjoyed the steadiness of the structure while I waited to see how the tale progressed. A clever finish and twist at the end. I liked your humorous nudge at death and how you'll approach it. A wonderful entrance to heaven, I must say. I hope we all go out like that. My favorite part was the report you had to write to reflect upon your time on earth. How interesting that a poet should write as a way of processing one's mortality. I loved, "pearl qwerty board..." That was my favorite line...simply brilliant. Your form was effortless, and went right along with the rest of it. A fine poem, and I'm glad you shared it with us. Warm regards, Don | 2004-05-10 16:36:45 |
| The waking tide | Mark Andrew Hislop | Mark, Wow, didn't know you had it in you! This is great, possibly my favorite poem by you. The words flow nicely and create a delicate mood full of passion and weight. Nothing like a lover to bring out the best in you. I found it interesting that you look for a "life better than this" and yet you are talking about a lover here. Perhaps it's not all paradise? A complicated and difficult feeling to express in poetry, yet you do so well here. Nicely woven together, man. Warm regards, Don | 2004-05-01 08:56:16 |
| Iraq in April | Mark Andrew Hislop | Mark, Sorry to bust your balls about the whole "write more, you can do it...I see more here" thing. Sometimes I just have a knack for it. I do truly see something in your writing. I wouldn't waste my time critiquing your poems if by doing so didn't make my eye a bit keener too. I'm benefiting from this. I do also intend to post more than the one poem I have on here so far, so don't worry, you'll have time to bust my chops too. Bring it on! Hopefully, when it's all said and done, we're published, etc, whatever your goals are with this crazy poetry writing thing. That said, let me reflect about this poem. Respectfully, I don't know that I share your whole perspective here on the war, but I do respect that you wrote this. I have not written a single poem about the war. My favorite line is: "God Is./Great if you can stomach/" and so on. Love it, love it. Great use of enjambment here. Lots of double and triple meanings if you read it differently wrapping the words around the line. For me, the ending isn't there yet. Sit on it, think it over, mull it over, crack a beer, or whatnot, and come back to it. Otherwise, a great piece here. Thanks for sharing it with us, and hanging it out there for me to shoot a dart at it with "Hey, when did you say you'd be revising this?" plastered all the hell all over it. There ya go. Regards, Don | 2004-04-30 23:21:35 |
| Down to the river | Mark Andrew Hislop | Mark, this poem is an interesting lesson. It took me a few reads to really get the whole Jesus coming to earth to baptize and that whole thing. But, it's very good, nonetheless. You're very subtle in the layers of your poetry and writing style. I like that. It's a great gift to use as a writer. I like that whole thing about wanting to leave our things behind. Very cathartic, like being baptized. Great analogy. I liked the use of uncircumsized tents...though I'm not sure why. I'm not saying it's a phallic thing, I just mean the whole idea of being clean or unclean and the argument that circumsision is of the heart not the flesh is a great area to touch on with this poem. Thanks for sharing this with us. I enjoyed the read! Regards, Don | 2004-04-30 23:01:34 |
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