Poetry Contests Online at The Poetic Link

This Poem was Submitted By: Mell W. Morris On Date: 2003-10-20 19:20:38 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

To Listen to Music While Reading this Poem, just Click Here!

Click Here To add this poem to your "Voting Possibilities" list!

Talking To The Trees

Falling leaves give eulogies to autumn seasons and for love- long reasons and with crisp songs, please myriad beings. Crushed hushes occur when leaves tell tales: those grand raconteurs, relating music of dallying breezes and tallies of tree-bole rings. Leaves are like pages of poetry that assuage loneliness. Come, fill empty spaces by listening to their lore of teardrop traces. Belief suspended, the din of life aside, attend with an inner ear. Ah, the glory of their stories! Such riches to learn from turning Leaves.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Troy D Skroch On Date: 2005-06-26 01:14:49
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Mell, Wow, how you can write. Now, this is beyond me. Can’t touch it, only appreciate it. Truly, art. There is nothing more beautiful to me than fall’s leaves and myriad of colors, all their different shades. The variation itself is poetry. And as I know that you are familiar with northern Minnesota and Wisconsin, I know that you know what I’m talking about. Perhaps, the Rocky Mountains can compete in some ways, but these two states, for me, have the best leaves. Falling leaves give eulogies to autumn seasons and for love- long reasons and with crisp songs, please myriad beings. You open this stanza with the word “falling”. This, so skillfully serves, to my mind, three important purposes. First, the prefix, “fall”, (well maybe it’s not a prefix, close enough) ties so well to the season you are leading us into with this poem; second, it sets a precedent for the movement of the poem, which is just plain good writing, because it transitions the mind of the reader—now; and third, I like the word. Ha, caught you thinking! The leaves, themselves, cognitive to the “autumn seasons”, that’s nice, very nice, but why? “For love long reasons”. How the leaves love to come into being in the spring. Hmm, maybe leaves are born earlier within the tree itself, none the less, they come with the tulips and stay for the summer. You cloak the idea of this inside your line, for me, with those four words, skillfully taking me the rest of the way through the first stanza, allowing me to hear the “crisp songs” and be pleased. The word “crisp” serving to describe both the sense of the fall air and the condition of the leaves themselves. Crushed hushes occur when leaves tell tales: those grand raconteurs, relating music of dallying breezes and tallies of tree-bole rings. OMG this stanza owns me. You are so cool! Leaves are like pages of poetry that assuage loneliness. Come, fill empty spaces by listening to their lore of teardrop traces. Can’t touch this stanza either. It’s right there in front of me, I can embrace it, yet it alludes me. It’s just perfect for thinking about. And I’m not talking about whether I get it or not, it’s just so damn beautiful I prefer to feel the lines here rather than start the hammer in my head pounding pins. LOL! Belief suspended, the din of life aside, attend with an inner ear. Ah, the glory of their stories! Such riches to learn from turning Leaves. Yes, belief suspended before this perfect fall stage. Wonderful. I’ll try to keep it together and make it all the way through the next poem I comment on of yours. Smiles. And I’m going to show you a poem that I’m working on. I posted it, but took it down as it didn’t feel complete to me. With that, my cape billowing in the breeze, I’ll fly off commando style, streaking over tall buildings, looking for a roof top happy hour filled with social drinkers. LOL! Everything as Life souls scattered seeding this world of wax where as wicks twisting together braided in our nature we are drawn from mold skyward to the hand of the candle maker raised to touch the sun opening our eyes to the reflected flame of the All and all that we are in each other melting us down together this fire kindling a core to warm the water wood soil and stone that bears us to see everything as life before we cool and rise again to the gentle hand that lights us back into existence Thanks again Mell, stay centered, T

This Poem was Critiqued By: Annette L Cowling On Date: 2003-11-09 19:47:42
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 8.00000
Mell - I am not an expert at all in critiquing poetry. The extent of my writing experience is really just exchanging poems every other week with another writer of poetry. He is a writer of songs as well as poetry. I am new to this phase of writing, but I do know what I like. Your poem "Talking To The Trees" really makes me quite envious, because it deals with the seasonal falling of leaves and turns that subject into a reason to rejoice! I especially like the comparison you made in the third paragraph: "Leaves are like pages of poetry that assuage loneliness." I think the ending is really powerful! Your poem certainly is as good or better than I have read in books of poetry. Excellent writing! Annette

This Poem was Critiqued By: Sherri L Smith On Date: 2003-11-03 20:49:27
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.43478
Dear Mell, I think this is one of the most beautiful poems that you have written. The glory of the changing colors of the fall leaves all entwined in this beautiful poem. I especially liked this stanza: Leaves are like pages of poetry that assuage loneliness. Come, fill empty spaces by listening to their lore of teardrop traces. Mainly because poetry helps me fill the empty places in my heart and soul. It spoke to me. Thanks for sharing this with us and especially me. Sherri

This Poem was Critiqued By: Elaine Marie Phalen On Date: 2003-11-01 17:29:15
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.83333
Lovely work, Mell ... as always. The internal rhyme is what sets your poetry apart from most, and serves as subtle tribute to Seamus Heaney too, as I sense he is your spiritual mentor. Diction is energetic, upbeat and very clear in terms of visuals. Words like "raconteurs" and "dallying" lift it beyond the ordinary and confer an elegance upon even a "simple" (which it really isn't at all) theme of autumn trees. Alliteration is carefully used, especially with "t". I love the "l" consonance in S2, as well. You write with intense lyricism! I might suggest dropping the very first "and" in L2. I'm not sure you need it, and there's a second "and" not long afterwards. But that's a very small edit. I do hope you're collecting these wonderful Nature pieces, as they would make a terrific chapbook. MUCH enjoyed! Brenda

This Poem was Critiqued By: Rick Barnes On Date: 2003-10-23 11:58:13
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.71429
Mell, When I was younger, much less selective and infinitely more accepting, I use to talk to trees incessantly. I remember wanting to know them. For their part, they were remarkably tolerant of my explorations and would whisper to me in a language I have long forgotten, although I remember well the subtle nuance and comforting tones. This work, "Talking To The Trees", calls out to me in those voices, in this, my favorite season. "Falling leaves give eulogies to autumn seasons and for love- long reasons and with crisp songs, please myriad beings." The opening line is as grand a Prelude into the songs of Autumn as I have ever read. Only one who holds the season in her soul could compose such a fanfare. I needn't dwell on your command of language or your mastery of the craft. It is as obvious as the fine weave of cambric. I must say this however, once in a great while there arrives a poet whose dedication to the discipline and attention to the craft results in the transformation and transcendence of expression into the elusive realm of art. In one stanza you poetically express the subtle nuance and comforting tones my younger ears understood at a time when that wisdom was essence. Those tales, told in crushed hushes, of carefree breezes that comprise the very history of being. Leaves as pages of poetry born of those breezes, filling empty spaces, rhyming one season into another and fulfilling verse as the very soil that gives birth to succeeding volumes. Oh the glory of their stories indeed. Brought to the fore by one who listens to the silence with the ears of a poet and the wisdom of a child's first hearing. Rick

This Poem was Critiqued By: Erzahl Leo M. Espino On Date: 2003-10-23 00:38:16
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.84211
Hi Mell, Again, I am mesmerized by another “autumn” poem (so much were submitted this month in TPL) presented in your work here. Your piece is timely where readers can easily relate to (though we don’t have “autumn” in our place…I can sure feel the presence of it. The wind here is beginning to be cold and windy signs are revealing). :) “Talking To The Trees” --- I like the poetic structure of your title here! Plus, I find the alliteration of “t” evident yet enjoyable! “Falling leaves give eulogies to autumn seasons and for love- long reasons and with crisp songs, please myriad beings.” --- I love the association of “falling leaves” as “eulogies to autumn seasons” and “for love”. This is lyrically beautiful and original! Effectively, I visualize these “falling leaves” as tears of the tree! “Crushed hushes occur when leaves tell tales: those grand raconteurs, relating music of dallying breezes and tallies of tree-bole rings.” --- This is exquisite! Your choice of words is hypnotizing! I like how you expound the character of leaves or “falling leaves”…how it emotionally transcends to the reader’s soul. I find the use of “raconteurs” appropriate to support the word “tales”. I like the use of “dallying” for breezes. Very much it! --- Wow, this (your words) almost encouraged me to post my scheduled “japanese verse 29 (Breeze)” early as I plan to post it. :) I’m planning to post it next week (I’m glad that my upcoming poem fits timely with the others). I hope you’ll find it ok too. :) “Leaves are like pages of poetry that assuage loneliness. Come, fill empty spaces by listening to their lore of teardrop traces.” --- Continuously, you thirst your readers with your obvious skill! I don’t know that there is so much more to say about a “subject” or “topic”. Leaves as “pages of poetry” is superb! Again, your lines and words here display your poetic and lyrical prowess. Unforgettable! “Belief suspended, the din of life aside, attend with an inner ear. Ah, the glory of their stories! Such riches to learn from turning Leaves.” --- Wow, what a wonderful and inspiring way to end your work! There is so much to feel and to “learn” as what you have said when we allow to pamper the depth of our inner interest to nature or to the beauty of our surroundings. I like the use of “inner ear”…this is fresh and new…plus I find the word “ear” supportive to the phrase “to learn” and word “stories”. Great flow! Kudos on your fine work here Mell! This is another splendid performance! Thanks for posting this in TPL for our enjoyment! Simple but full of life and vibrant! Yes, this is another winner! Now, I wonder what would my trees tell me…aside from their beauty and strength… :) As always, Erzahl :)

This Poem was Critiqued By: Claire H. Currier On Date: 2003-10-21 19:12:26
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.56667
Nicely stated how leaves tell tales among themself....." also, "Ah, the glory of their stories") can you not picture it how a young couple stopped to sit beneath this old Maple tree on their walk just the other day, holding hands they just began talking and before you know it perhaps exchanged a kiss or two.....now these leaves raised their bright sides and began to dance and sing so hard they started to fall......the young couple got up and continued on their walk.....indeed a tale for sure.... "Leaves are like pages of poetry that assuage lonelines"). Like this line as well for it brings forth much food for thought to this poet..... "...attend with an inner ear."; "...lore of teardrop traces."; "...please myriad beings."; "...tallies of tree-bole rings." great structure and superb word flow allowing this reader to get lost within the colors and splendor of the forest to which these leaves do belong and for those that remain during the winter season holding on for dear life can you hear the stories they too will tell come string when it too bursts forth in new life....leaves like the pages of life one chapter after the other.....some good, some bad, some not worth repeating but still worth livinig.....thanks for posting, be safe and God Bless, Claire Today I am busy raking the orange, red and yellow leaves that have graced my yard with color......tales they tell? Well here in Tully perhaps a tale of woe as my mother in law and I exchanged tears of sadness today that she is not coming home.....for some time anyway.....and you know the leaves know for in their own way falling to the ground like they do shows me they too are sad .........

This Poem was Critiqued By: Jordan Brendez Bandojo On Date: 2003-10-21 15:10:26
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.78261
Hi Mell, I am excited to critique this poem of yours as this would be my first attempt to give a little input to your artistry. I know your craftmanship is one that levels up with the works of the fine poets here. Infact, you got the first rank last month. Anyway, I'll give it a try. This poem is released with a very deep thoughts giving the readers a good thing to reflect on. The observations you have with the leaves and how they manifest with nature is more than a meticulous analysis, more than a qualitative chemical analysis! SMILE! When I read the title I can sense a little poignance that feels in my nerve. It seems to me that you came from a certain mood of unhappiness that you happen to talk and make a magical conversation with the foliage. But let me see if there is another side of the story. You thrill me here! And there we go, the first input is giving me a forlorn imagery as it directs me to think about eulogies: Falling leaves give eulogies to autumn seasons and for love- But the way you associated the falling leaves here is more than a wit descriptor. This is a unique concept for me. The personification of the leaves enlivens the mood and turns down the sad emotion. And...thrillingly... love- long reasons and with crisp songs, please myriad beings. Alright, it is wonderful! I like the imagery here, it is comforting. I could just mention the nice hissing sound created by seasons and songs. This seems to manifest the presence of the leaves. Crushed hushes occur when leaves tell tales: ----again here, the hissing sound of sh in crushed/hushes is just remarkably nice. And the 't' is nicely alliterating in tell/tales. This is a good reinforcement that adds the enlivening of the personification. And again, the hissing sound of the leaves is manifested in the third strophe: leaves/pages/assuage/loneliness/spaces/traces. It just give me a comforting atmosphere. And the use of the simile is enhancing as it should be: Leaves are like pages of poetry that assuage loneliness....It is amazingly a new descriptor! The images here are the just comforting from the nice transformation of the eulogies that the leaves create to the glory of their stories. A dramatically wonderful effect! Poet, you've just done it astoundingly outstanding or outstandingly astounding! SMILE! Sorry, I don't see anything to change here. This is superb and it just make me excited for the voting period. Thank you very much for sharing, Mell. I read one of your critiques. You are getting ill? I hope I give you a little reason to smile and be healed. Jordan

This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2003-10-21 13:19:32
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.93750
Dear Mell: In your absence, it is apparent from this poem that you have spent quality time with your inner Muse. The poem is magical - it is all I could ever want and hope for from a reading experience. I am enthralled with its imagery, and particularly the personification of the leaves as messengers. How incredible to be able to conceptualize such wonder, let alone to give them ethereal voices as you have done. I am thoroughly under your spell. Falling leaves give eulogies to autumn seasons and for love- long reasons and with crisp songs, please myriad beings. The rhythm in the second line above captivates me completely. "love-long" is a wonderful, fresh word, which enjambed gives variant meanings to these melodic line. The idea of "crisp songs" is exactly what I meant by magical. One can hear and feel the textures in a way that is transcendent. Your ability to lift the ordinary into sublime realms never fails to illuminate your work. The reference to "myriad beings" is thrilling as well, for we may visualize elves and sprites if so inclined (and Irish) or angels, or even the waiting microcosm of teeming life on the forest floor. Crushed hushes occur when leaves tell tales: those grand raconteurs, relating music of dallying breezes and tallies of tree-bole rings. Sound magic in "crushed hushes occur" give me all-over chills. The whimsical thought of the leaves telling tales, of them as "grand raconteurs" (YOU are the Queen of Assonance, my dear!)is sublime. I have the strongest urge to open the windows and listen! Those pointed, crisp t's in "tell/tales/relating/tallies/tree-bole" allude to the slightly papery tinkle of those sounds. Not overdone, but just enough to prick a listener's ear so that our senses are heightened and we may hear along with the poet. These moments pass - and the ability to hear them as you suggest is fleeting, I think. Herein is a gift given to readers: Leaves are like pages of poetry that assuage loneliness. Come, fill empty spaces by listening to their lore of teardrop traces. Indeed, as you suggest (or as I infer) the "empty spaces" are a grace, granted to the listener in order to hear in these sounds the response of one's inmost being, a listening that requires utter quiet and surrender. Such a state is a prayerful one, with a touch of mournfulness. For after all, you show us here, the leaves are in a state of enhanced beauty and stimulate our reverence as they approach their transformation. Belief suspended, the din of life aside, attend with an inner ear. Ah, the glory of their stories! Such riches to learn from turning I think I expected "disbelief suspended" but either phrase will work, because we are listening on a different level. Phrases "din of life/inner ear" ingeniously contrast the noisy external world and the inner one of perception, the one which is capable of "listening to the silence." Your "glory of their stories" is an example of pure Melli-fluence, gifted by the lovely liquid r's rolling softly throughout L2-4 above. Leaves. I love the way you dropped down to the last word. It then does service to the poem as a noun and verb, for the careful listener. We are illuminated by such writing, which shows us the unexpected glory in acceptance of life's changes, hear the love songs inherent within and without as we connect with the nature's cyclic changing of seasons. One of your finest works to date, informed with a quiet spirituality which lifts it to the level of hymnody. Exquisite in every sense. Brava! Cedar woven baskets of fall leaves, set gently before you. All my best, Joanne

This Poem was Critiqued By: Turner Lee Williams On Date: 2003-10-21 01:06:25
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.15385
Mell--First time commenting on your work. Job well done--beautiful analogy between the stories told by leaves (...leaves tell tales: those grand raconteurs..." also, "Ah, the glory of their stories")and the reading of poetry ("Leaves are like pages of poetry that assuage lonelines"). What a great ring this entire piece has to it: poetry in motion, i.e., "...attend with an inner ear."; "...lore of teardrop traces."; "...please myriad beings."; "...tallies of tree-bole rings." Nothing else needs to be said. Thanks for sharing. TLW

This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne Duval Morgan On Date: 2003-10-20 23:40:58
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.87500
Hi Friend/Girl, well welcome back, I hope the dizzy, foggy bumbling period has diminished and you are coming back full time. I feel as one of those leaves that have fallen this Autumn, alone and diminished without the my sisterly poets who stimulate the mind, and tickle the life cells of bondinding, not wasted to blow and disappear with the story each can tell. Love the gist, and the lyrical quality of this poem, and I know it was written by a wordsmith of the first degree, now I feel together again, the connection with one of my fellow leaves. Let me tell you a little story instead of giving you a real critique. On Saturday last, my two youngest Granddaughters came for a visit of five days, so they along with their older Sister Jen (who is in my custody), decided that I should jump on my Little Cherry red Scooter, and drive up to my old homestead (where I was raised), it lies along the bank of a Fresh water pond, a little white house that holds tremoundous memories. During the One and a hald mile walk the children enjoyed the Fall foliage (as did I0, and we walked up this hill, and leaves had gathered along along the side walk, in a dept of beautiful color, the dry, crackling leaves talked to us as we traversed up the hill, well we got to the house, admiring all the Maple, White Birthch, and pine trees, took in the black cool Autumn waves of the fresh water, all agreeing that it wasn't a time for swimming, well we started back, doubling our the route we had taken. This time we got to the hill and the girls begain duplicating the antics of playing in the leaves. At the point I said arn't the leaves beautiful, but did you girls notice there are hidden gems among the leaves. Of course they looked dubious, and I ponted to a green orb lying among the leave. The younges 6 year old Angelique picked it up, and instantly threw it from her hand. I asked why? and she said it has sharp point on it, and it hurts my hands. Well I picked it up and they gathered around me, using my thumb nails I split the orb open, and there rested the most beautiful brown glisting nut. I took it complete out, and gave it to them to feel, all three commented on how beautiful it was, but it arrived in a horrible shell. The brown glisted in the sun, the finish was as if 500 years of fine sand at a beach had made it as smooth as glass. Then I said there are other gems to be found hiding among the fallen leaves. Well the treasure hut was on, they found dozens and dozens of these gem. Then I told them this is a creation of God, that each year at this time his bounty is to be found. Now truly they were beautiful Horse chesnuts, a simple lesson so it would seem. As children though, no TV no video games, we the children created our own entertainment. So a simple lesson maybe, but I believe one each girl will recount later in life, and Grandmom did what Grandmoms should do teach. So the validity of your poem each stanze each, each declaration is so true, so factual so brilliant in in projection, for each leave has a history, and we should be aware that life begins, has a middle, and ending, just as your poem does. Done like like extradionary well written, linguist poem. That's my styory and I'm sticking to it, learn about all forms, seeing that leaves, each of them are like pages, each tells it's own story, just like the Horse chesnuts. Terrific, I like, the writng once again is fab, and I'm glad you're back, I've missed you, knew you were ill and didn't want to bother you, the fact you're writing agin is so welsome to me. Be well, I think of you always, Love, Jo

This Poem was Critiqued By: Jennifer j Hill On Date: 2003-10-20 21:19:39
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.38462
Dear Mell, To begin with, congratulations on your recent number one poem "Echoes from the Sea". It made for a thouroughly enjoyable reading experience for this reader! Talking to and listening to the leaves, what a concept! This is so alive with the music of nature. There is a rhythm that has bounding energy in this piece. Reading this aloud is a joyful encounter with our outside environment. The leaves giving eulogies to the seasons is such a comforting thought. I just spent 4 days living on a sailboat and being one with nature and I can tell you that everything in nature does sing praises to God so why not leaves giving eulogies? I'd like to think that those beautiful colors don't just spill to the ground without saying something! The lake and birds and last of tree frogs and other forest creatures were singing a wonderful lullaby to us as we lay in our bunks at night. Even the stars seem to sing. Your reasons/seasons rhyme fits nicely into the bouncing rhythm. "Crushed hushes" and "dallying breezes" and "tallies of tree-bole rings" also bounce in harmony. Leaves talking about breezes and the age of the trees! Masterful! I love that. My personal favorite is: "Leaves are like pages of poetry that assuage loneliness. Come, fill empty spaces by listening to their lore of teardrop traces" Comparing leaves to pages of poetry is just brilliant. Such riches to learn indeed! Oh and glory of their stories is nice too. Thanks Mell, this is one to treasure. By the way I was so sorry to hear you were sick. I hope you are feeling much better. Please get your rest so you can continue givng us your music to our ears and eyes. Blessings, Jennifer

Poetry Contests Online at The Poetic Link

Click HERE to return to ThePoeticLink.com Database Page!