This Poem was Submitted By: Lynda G Smith On Date: 2004-04-03 01:34:27 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Rock a Bide Woman

(((((Pound))))) Down to the rock marble of my bones, I feel it; the concussion,  the slam of the cut. It echo’s in my gut; A vibration of intention, Some savage sequence, A chipping search for  What exists beneath. No history, No memory Defines me. I  am  as  yet  not. (((((Pound))))) What exists within Finds release in  The cast off shards of  Broken evidence. Isolated from light, I wait. In state Of grace with form, Carved, perfection’s statement Beneath tiers of time, Thick onion layers of skinned emotion, Smooth sedations of toil Diffuse the crying oil.  (((((Pound))))) But what good are tears When the stone encasing Fears, binds freedom, When the bead of cleansing Saline is not checked by friction And rivers the marble planes Forging stains Fugitive and futile. Who is the defender of the faithful, Grateful for the isolation Of being one with me. ((((((Pound))))) It strikes again, and yet I stand An immutable maquette, A mock of flesh  Frozen by eons Of past choices,  depression by compression. Muffled words between the hits Make no sense. They fall upon Carrara ears, undefined and undefiled, A fusion of sound to sonic sense. I feel the falling chips And check . Is it vibration or vacillation Oh that it would speed Or fly.   (((((Pound))))) Who flays the detritus From this bound body. What chaos of freedom Is swaddled in the stone In my wombed tomb Safe and secure as In that mothering place. Who would mind or care if I bide in black Bloat one more day, Hide, simply hide One more day  (((((Pound))))) Birth, So bloody painful, To guarantee the death of innocence. There’s no where to go, So I wait within the silence In the darkness, Rigid in the darkness, Expectant  In the darkness,  Counting the consequences  Of time. (((((Pound)))))

Copyright © April 2004 Lynda G Smith


This Poem was Critiqued By: Marcia McCaslin On Date: 2004-05-04 15:05:02
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.98000
Hi Lynda--I saw this poem some while ago, but had so many other things I was trying to do--we all know how that is. Last I looked, it was really doing well on the poem contest. I hope it continues. This is impactful, to say the least. Your ((((Pound))))) just grabs our attention and we feel this piece as much as we read it. But then the in-between parts or so soft/hard, contemplative/non-contemplative that you have made me almost feel like I'm there. Heaven forbid. Down to the rock marble of my bones, There is also (IMO) some very skillful writing going on here, besides the most creative idea of it all. Some savage sequence, A chipping search for What exists beneath. No history, No memory Defines me. I am as yet not. The staccato sentences add to the pain/sharpness/searching aspect. The cast off shards of Broken evidence. Yes--this is one way of saying it! Thick onion layers of skinned emotion, Smooth sedations of toil Diffuse the crying oil. I particularly like the "onion layers". In my wombed tomb Love the inner rhyme here--almost a touch of humor, although it is not a humorous piece. Birth, So bloody painful, To guarantee the death of innocence. guaranteeing the death of innocence. Isn't that the truth! There are so many things in the natural order of this universe that guarantee the outcome, but this is stated in a particularly captivating way. Counting the consequences Of time. Excellent ending---leaves us still in a state of expectancy, but cleverly done. Thanks for a carefully written piece. Good luck to you in the contest. Marcia


This Poem was Critiqued By: Mark Andrew Hislop On Date: 2004-05-03 01:30:19
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.45455
Lynda What ever is being born is taking its toll ... on you. Your stanzas and the pounding that puntuates them are as relentless as birth contractions that seem never to end, and one wonders whether the borning thing will ever ultimately see the light of day. Call it laziness, but I will take William Carlos Williams' advice with this poem ... ... and just let it explode in my face. Which it did ... and I loved it. Score my critique as lowly as "I loved it" deserves. Best wishes Mark.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Lennard J. McIntosh On Date: 2004-04-28 16:11:11
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
(((((Pound)))))
This Poem was Critiqued By: Rachel F. Spinoza On Date: 2004-04-19 10:38:49
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.11111
Hi, Lynda - great to see another poem of yours Rock a Bide Woman Clever and evocative title (((((Pound))))) Powerful chorus! [and shards of Ezra reverberate with every blow] Down to the rock marble of my bones, I feel it; the concussion, the slam of the cut. "cut" seems the wrong word here as the image is more pounding than slicing It [echos] in my gut; A vibration of intention, [lovely phrase] Some savage sequence, A chipping search for What exists beneath. [chipping is the perfect word -] No history, No memory Defines me. I am as yet not. wonderful dangling predicate at the end of that sequence (((((Pound))))) What exists within Finds release in The cast off shards of Broken evidence. [wonderful] Isolated from light, I wait. In state [good internal rhyme] Of grace with form, Carved, perfection’s statement Beneath tiers of time,[perhpas just "under" instead of "beneath" for the rhythm? Thick onion layers of skinned emotion, [whew~ Great!} Smooth sedations of toil Diffuse the crying oil. [what a great title that would make too] (((((Pound))))) But what good are tears When the stone encasing Fears, binds freedom, When the bead of cleansing Saline is not checked by friction And rivers the marble planes Forging stains Fugitive and futile. [perfect section in cadence and form - sense and sensibility] Who is the defender of the faithful, Grateful for the isolation Of being one with me. [not sure if this is rhetorical or not] ((((((Pound))))) It strikes again, and yet I stand An immutable maquette,[great phrase!} A mock of flesh [ahhhh] Frozen by eons Of past choices, depression by compression.[too light and airy a rhyme for this piece] Muffled words between the hits Make no sense. They fall upon Carrara ears, [WOW}undefined and undefiled, A fusion of sound to sonic sense. I feel the falling chips And check . Is it vibration or vacillation Oh that it would speed Or fly. [wonderuful} (((((Pound))))) Who flays the detritus From this bound body.[who indeed?} What chaos of freedom Is swaddled in the stone In my wombed tombc[great] Safe and secure as In that mothering place. Who would mind or care if I bide in black Bloat one more day, Hide, simply hide One more day (((((Pound))))) Birth, So bloody painful, To guarantee the death of innocence. [amazing thought] There’s no where to go, So I wait within the silence In the darkness, Rigid in the darkness, Expectant In the darkness, [great allusion to pregancy] Counting the consequences Of time. (((((Pound))))) Brilliant powerhouse of a poem! Thank you for sharing it here. Best Rachel
This Poem was Critiqued By: zen sutherland On Date: 2004-04-14 00:19:19
Critiquer Rating During Critique: Unknown
Hi Lynda, This one has me scratchin' my head. I like the diffusion of image, the streaks of broken bits of meaning crossed with the "Muffled words between the hits Make no sense." And inside me there's the feeling of a statue of a person or the personality of a being trapped in stone or imprisoned by choice with someone trying to free him/her/it. A thing/person that wrestles with the possibility and loss of both hope and innocence. How would i improve it? I haven't the foggiest. I've only given my reaction to it, hoping you can use that. I'm new here so maybe i'd understand the icons of your imagery after a few of your poems in my belly! Thanks for sharing it - hope to read more. zen
This Poem was Critiqued By: Irene E Fraley On Date: 2004-04-10 20:29:44
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Hi Lynda, I can identify with this poem. When we seek to uncover ourselves by looking within, it is as if we were being found in the block of granite or marble by an emotional sculptor. I think the use of "(((((Pound)))))" works well to give the poem's central image greater power, as it is very visceral. Your use of space is good, as is the use of repetition. the sense of fear, longing and dread of being discovered is well presented. Above all, i am impressed by the imagery you use in the poem, and the use of Language, mature language, which creates those images. Good job! Thanks for sharing this with us, I-Rene Fraley
This Poem was Critiqued By: Thomas Edward Wright On Date: 2004-04-05 14:23:34
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Lynda- To me you are speaking to the process of delivering: delivering a new self, and delivering a newborn. The self-shattering/-creating energy exemplified (?) in the (((pound))) - ing reminds me of the pneumatic hammering we see around here when new construction is going up, when they hammer in those huge iron I-beams to hold back the earth - a preventive move to prevent a collapsing-in-upon - the energies suggested in your piece are integral and substantial, and as the title suggests, are dealt with over time, biding time, as a rock bides time against the weathers, its inscriptions upon us defining who we may appear to be to others, when in all reality we are merely rocks. the sensation of quickening in the pregnant state is thumping and thundering through the piece, almost a metronome, but of longer frequency, like the motions of the continents, implying lengths of time not measured on a watch or even a calendar. i tried to find some way to connect with Ezra Pound here, but in my little reading and smaller mind am unable to do so, though it would not surprise me to find you immersed in one of his seas, as well! kudos on a fine piece, an emotionally and philosophically interesting read. tom
This Poem was Critiqued By: Wayne R. Leach On Date: 2004-04-05 12:47:32
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.50000
Lynda, Effective parenthetic usage. I feel the vibrations of them. A very effective and strong 1st line, also. It echo’s in my gut; - [pl. is echoes, "echo's" is possessive] Isolated from light, - [Very effective hesitations here, esp. with the sentence ceasing in middle of L2] I wait. In state - [Nice interior rhyme - with alliteration even] Of grace with form, Carved, perfection’s statement Beneath tiers of time, Thick onion layers of skinned emotion, - [Excellent imagery in the latter portion of this stanza] Smooth sedations of toil Diffuse the crying oil. - [Powerful, esp. with the rhyme] But what good are tears When the stone encasing Fears, binds freedom, When the bead of cleansing - [would this be a little better connected/clearer if line break after "saline?] Saline is not checked by friction And rivers the marble planes - [great image] Forging stains - [maybe a comma or ellipsis here - just a thought] Fugitive and futile. - [Super allits with the f's in this entire section] Who is the defender of the faithful, Grateful for the isolation Of being one with me. It strikes again, and yet I stand - [nice slant, interior rhyme] An immutable maquette, - [ more superb alliteration - m's & f's] A mock of flesh Frozen by eons - [strong, but maybe I might break after "choices" instead of "eons" - only a suggestion] Of past choices, depression by compression.* Muffled words between the hits Make no sense. They fall upon Carrara ears, undefined and undefiled,* - [*2 nice attention grabbers] A fusion of sound to sonic sense. - [even more alliteration, you have a way with it] I feel the falling chips And check . Is it vibration or vacillation Oh that it would speed - [I'd suggest a comma, or even an exclamation, after "oh"] Or fly. Who flays the detritus - [had to check spelling here, but it's okay, and a strong noun it is, too] From this bound body. What chaos of freedom Is swaddled in the stone In my wombed tomb - [2 more excellent lines of allits and rhyming] Safe and secure as In that mothering place. - [Here, the reader REALLY discovers who and/or what is suffering. Amazing work] Who would mind or care if I bide in black Bloat one more day, Hide, simply hide One more day So I wait within the silence In the darkness, Rigid in the darkness, Expectant In the darkness, Counting the consequences Of time. - [What a powerful closing statement, reiterating the "darkness", and the c's alliteration.] Nothing more to add. An excellent creation. Thanks for submitting and sharing it. Peace and love. wl
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