Carolyn Minsker's E-Mail Address: avalon@ezol.com
Click Here to hear Carolyn's Favorite Song: Jammin'


Carolyn Minsker's Profile:
I've been writing poetry since I was 12 years old. I love Sylvia Plath, Tori Amos - a modern day poet, Lord Byron, Lewis Carrol, Bob Dylan - another modern bard, Chaucer for his tongue in cheek and for keepin it real, Erica Jong and Maya Angelou for their blood and guts, sweet Emily D, mystical Yeats, wounded d.h.lawrence.. And then I love WHAuden's "Stop All The Clocks", and get sentimental over all of Frost. I could play this game all day, but my my gotta fly.

So far 708 People have Entered a Personal Profile on The Poetic Link! Click Here to see the rest of them or to Add your Own Personal Profile Now!

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


If you would like to view all of Carolyn Minsker's Poetry just Click Here.

Poetry Contests Online at The Poetic Link

Click HERE to return to ThePoeticLink.com Database Page!

Displaying Critiques 1 to 20 out of 20 Total Critiques.

Poem TitlePoet NameCritique Given by Carolyn MinskerCritique Date
Longingsmarilyn terwillegerHi Marilyn, I thought as long as I'm around I would look in on my friends' poems. It seemed like the decent thing to do, and I do love you all so want to give you some of my time. So let's take a look at this little poem: Longings - The title conjures a little ache, an unfed desire, sometimes our longings are even nameless, a mystery to us. The L S and soft Gs tend to be soft and soothing setting the mood nicely for the next line with continues the softness, even the Ts softened in the following line, Let me rest and quiet - the qualms that beset, a yearning deep within "quiet", "qualms" and a continuance of the lullabye-like soft mood b,y,w, th. and rhapsodies that suggest but do not satisfy. Murmurings of night birds For some reason the word "rhapsodies" lifted the mood a bit, but immediately we find we shouldn't get our hopes up, we can't quite hear the song of the night birds. and long gleams of sun may bring quietude and purify longings of un-rest "and long gleams of sun" wow. that's a beautiful picture. "and purify" I love that sunbleached freshness of sheets on the line, that this conjures. Yearning for what we can't have is bad for the heart, yearning is purified by figuring out what makes us happy and delivering it for ourselves. it's always up to us, ourselves. to look within and find what we need in life. Very lovely little poem, Marilyn. Copyright May 2006 marilyn terwillege2006-05-19 06:12:48
AriosoRick BarnesAnxiously I read your poem, and then, read it again. Were you wandering around, peering into my windows, watching as I worried? I read it to a friend, he didn't understand. But I knew, because poet's do. when you opened this vein you mixed my blood on your palette and painted my pain.2004-12-07 10:15:47
FRACTURED FREEDOMMark D. KilburnAmen. 2004-12-07 07:18:39
When Words EscapeJames Edward SchanneYour poems show a gift for dizzying imagery, I find them quite a-musing, not amusing, but I mean, they stir my muse. "wake the charge of static bolting from skin" truly a priceless thought. "finger painted with abstract red herrings" - I just read Shakespeare's Twelfth Night, well-described by this line of your poem. I couldn't follow the first and second of Strophe 3, alas, even though I love the idea of signal fires. I do like the dusty layers of doubt, and the dogged yelpings. And the title, made my heart sigh. 2004-12-07 07:12:31
A Window Cracked My VisionJames Edward SchanneBecause I am a poet, and feeling very dark, I much enjoyed your poem. Not-a-poet I fear, would not get it. I wonder whether a crisis, or just an observation stirred this muse. the speaker is a man, in reverie during his morning shave. the third strophe with its alliteration steals the stage somehow on horseback with hooves. At the end I see myself in the mirror, too porous. 2004-12-07 07:02:34
For MomMick FraserHello Mick. I'm just dropping in for a diversion while I feel the need to shirk my studies. Enjoyed this much. In your second strophe, I need to tell you {breath is what you see in the cold, breathe is what you do to stay alive.) "Illusive winter aroma" tricky! I read the meaning as "elusive" at first which also fits so well with your scene. The capped cedars cringed? (Because it's not nice to fool mother nature?) I actually like the spirit of your poem, very much. In my spiritual life, trees are my steeples, too, unencumbered by personality politics. I like that your congregation is peopled by such characters as Mr. Macintosh, (I'm sure he'll wake up for confirmation.) That I think is my favorite of your strophes. Interesting misleading title, the astonishing image of the inverted blue bowl for the sky, and my total recognition of how words aren't necessary for devotions in nature; smiles are enough. Thank you for sharing.2004-02-14 10:24:33
TruthRachel F. SpinozaOr in the plain language of a street kid in english lit: "to give their lives meaning, they come up with that crap". Somehow I thrive on sonnetry, regardless the theme. Always enjoy your spin. 2004-02-14 09:05:46
Neuter AllegianceMell W. MorrisDear Mell, my weary heart burns with the fever of unrest, the inequity of prejudice, the lopsided distribution of wealth that threatens the health and wellbeing of a silent majority of the world's voiceless children who, suffering, are enslaved for the making of chocolate treats for the wealthy minority, are maimed in the labors of silk, and are endangered in meatpacking houses in Omaha (yes Nebraska), are bombed in mosul for the production of oil, their bones and their mothers' ground up to fuel the machinery of globalization, even here in america, the land of dreams pumped through the television matrix..... Your heartfelt poem gives voice to the pain I feel in politics, even as I reel off the numbers, the facts, the eloquent arguements, my pain is unspeakable, my voice is muted, my heart is dying inside. 2004-02-14 08:09:39
haikuhaikuRegis L ChapmanDear REEG! (howdydo) I've read Erzahl for so long now that I take the count for granted, and always fail to mention it in my little kisses (critiques) sent for his work. Then I click the Submit button and notice that everyone else has congratulated him on it! Great chuckle, (and perfect count). love, Carolyn 2004-02-14 07:20:40
Dirt Devilmarilyn terwillegerDear Marilyn, As an easterner, I haven't had the pleasure to witness many a dirt devil, and the poor puny ones out here barely cling to life. Your title brought to mind my vacuum, so I was pleasantly surprised by the image of your personified little devil, given life by the wind and the dust. almost like us. I enjoyed your imagery very much, so that I was more forgiving about the uneven gait and my nitpicky observations, such as the punctuation that brought undue attention to eyes(,) in an aquiline head. You paint a picture of a marvelously vivid dry desert noonday, and yet "typhoon" unexpectedly suggests a wet tropic storm. This little dirty devil deserves more Active Verbs! so I offer some suggestions for strengthening the active voice (not addressing the meter since that is particularly the author's preference) for your consideration, or not, and I thank you for allowing me the pleasure to read and critique your poem, and I apologize for taking such liberties with it. Sizzling sun bears down on the etched earth, disturbed only by sporadic zealous breeze. Soaring aloft, the aquiline bald eagle vigilantly eyes the ground for prey The pronged crown of a taupe and ivory Antelope moseys across the tundra. The only sound is the soft scruff of tumbleweed as it sweeps a path across the pallid plain A surprise gust of Zephyr spawns an eddy of wizened soil: a staunch and jaunty dirt devil emerges. He skips happily, whirls with abandon, spinning like a tiny twisting tornado. His tapered tail excites a tiny dirt blizzard he gyrates and birls but begins to fizzle. His taut torso opens wide as he strives to stay alive, then zeal subdued returns to dust, antics only a hazy memory in the sun. Sincerely, Carolyn2004-02-14 07:13:49
japanese verse 39 (Amnesia)Erzahl Leo M. EspinoHappy Valentines Day, Erzahl. Thank you for this delicious treat! So ROMANTIC!! Much Love, Carolyn2004-02-14 06:01:52
Every Poem An AutographMell W. MorrisThis is a dreamy sort of poem, when I read "I live in unsayable lights", my mind turns the phrase this way and that way with wonder. "and any occurrence might recall (lift up your hearts)" it was with relief I received the explanation, especially considering I have yet to solve the mystery of the unsayable lights and why 'any occurrence' recalls.. and then some comprehension, when in strophe 2 you remind us that where we were is how we came to be here. It is a unique concept to consider that we might 'ripen' (love that) to the point where we do not rely on the tried and true defenses developed in childhood. The first time I read your verse, yesterday, I wanted to say, oh! isn't that true! I think so too! Each poem *is* an autograph! that you crafted this one so artistically and then ended it with the lilt of your own recollection's music. "Every strophe I read is a trophy of someone's life, now indelible, apprising, then surprising me with a treble of sursum-corda sighs". Lifting up our hearts! A pleasure to play with the poem. love, Carolyn2004-02-14 05:47:50
These delicious aromas like foreign countrieshj elliotDear hj elliot, my senses were immediately stirred by your title, urgently arousing a curious sniff: and finding the quality to my taste it was as if I breathed deeply the words in your poem. "Come back to bed" a compelling salutation if there ever was one. Suddenly hovering, with the cobblestones below us it is with a faraway realization that we are no longer in the beckoning bed, of course not. Shut the shutters against the chill rain, and the spectre of the war with its air strikes. Please submit this poem for publication somewhere, anywhere, it is heady with flavor! Sincerely, Carolyn 2004-02-13 17:51:45
Then I'll Dance With DragonfliesJoanne M UppendahlDear Joanne, Dragonflies are very special to me. My stepson took me to a place where you dive off the cliffs into the Susquehanna. I had swam there often when I was a teenager at boarding school, but didn't know how to get back. Jumping off the cliffs 30 feet in the air is a breath-taking experience. I was stuck, too afraid to jump, not able to climb down either. A dragonfly came, flitting, looked me in the eye, communicating the freedom in flight. I let go. Your poems please me in that same way that dragonflies in flight fill me with hope. Always a pleasure. love, Carolyn2004-02-13 16:56:37
As to the Site of the Preservation of MemoriesThomas Edward WrightDear Thomas, I wistfully noted Mark pulling up oars, and followed his trail to your poem. It brought tears, for you, for me, and for beloved mothers the world over. No one ever loves you the way your mother did. The length of this poem would normally be crying with boredom, laboring under any other pen, but yours, here. I wasn't done crying. Carolyn2004-01-10 00:21:01
The Murder of Emily DickensonC ArrownutWell, C Arrownut, I recognize this moniker, but had some vague impression about it, not quite recalled ..(from summer) as if it is an alias. Your title is radically intriguing, a must-read. Strophe 1: ah, instant gratification, we start off with a triple saukow flip! I like the uppity tone, and the smug essence-of-Lewis-Carroll aromatherapy in the room. I wish you had made the first line of Strophe 2 more compact, but it cannot take away from the following 3 lines, punctuated with the frictive 'for civility's sake', condescendingly sugared as it was so that I am lulled by the sunlit warmth of playground reminisces - only to be shaken from my haze by the frigid snap-out-of-it! of Strophe 4. Yes, Courage is the sine qua non for this treachery! Thank goodness we have a moment to catch our breath, before hazarding the flooded basement. (Perfect timing). Strophe 5, A wonderful imaginative end which ties back to the theme of psychotherapy in S1. Well done, gifted Poet. I very much enjoyed this imaginative diversion. Keep Writing, Carolyn2003-12-13 08:05:43
Life at ThePoeticLinkJordan Brendez BandojoDear Jordan, Oh how I can relate. The title makes me wonder. I think it a half-life. : ) To have been born on the link, the image makes me smile. The talent on the link can make us young'ns feel a bit jejune. I tripped a bit on the line "I dared serving foods to pioneers" but if you mean it, I can live with it.. "The seemingly harmful bees", yup I've felt their sting. The lilies are the best (next to lying among the asters). This seems to be free verse, as I couldn't identify a patterned rhyme scheme so my suggestion in Strophe 4 would be to move the line "still longing to press the keys.." to the last line where it could plaintively trail away in sorrow. "August 2003", no wonder I didn't recognize you - I went back to school full-time this fall; yesterday was my last Final Exam of the semester - HURRAH! I have to say the imagery in Strophe 5 strikes me as muddled, always more impressive to sustain an imagery theme, though challenging. I see what your going for, but.. I still enjoyed your poem! Keep writing, Carolyn2003-12-13 07:23:50
japanese verse 26 (Camel)Erzahl Leo M. EspinoWow. Dear Erzahl, I just had to tell you how much I admire this breathtakingly beautiful haiku. I can't imagine reading or writing one finer than this! Your hard work at honing your skill is certainly paying off! I would like to take a page from your book and become as dedicated to my craft as you are, it is obviously worth it. The wonder and awe that fills me on reading this piece is partially due to the multimedia-like reaction of my imagination as I read the meticulously chosen words. You see, I picture the barren sands of a rippling desert, the slow, rocking gait of the "gentle traveler" and then - I arrive at the phenomenal phrase 'carrying the hills' and my 'eyes' come to rest on the camel's humps that echo the golden desert hills beyond. Indescribably delicious. and just beautiful. Thank you for this wonderful poem, dear Erzahl.2003-10-14 15:03:37
Blowin' da "Blues" otta da Horn!Andrea M. TaylorDear Andrea, I liked what Joanne said about paying the price of reading poetry with a small comment at the least, even when we are pressed for time (as I am), soo: This is a joyful and oh-so-true to my world-view, rollicking poem that I much enjoyed. Others have tried to convince me (and failed) that to be truly happy people aspire to fame, that the achievement of notoriety is the true mark of success, and I emphatically shake my head "NO"! You captured, in your gambolling ditty, the essence of my definition of success: "She found joy in nothing, no cares about fame I have fun in living, thanks to Auntie Mame!" In strophe 4, I would like to see a comma (she pops by, my mentor,..) small quibble, I may not be seeing your reason clearly.. and I wondered if you had watched the old movie again, to set the mood. You have a wonderful talent, Andrea. Love, Carolyn 2003-09-19 16:08:47
MAN'S BEST FRIENDMark D. KilburnI like it. nuff said.2003-08-18 11:25:05
Poem TitlePoet NameCritique Given by Carolyn MinskerCritique Date

Displaying Critiques 1 to 20 out of 20 Total Critiques.

If you would like to view all of Carolyn Minsker's Poetry just Click Here.

Poetry Contests Online at The Poetic Link

Click HERE to return to ThePoeticLink.com Database Page!