This Poem was Submitted By: Mell W. Morris On Date: 2004-04-12 18:10:19 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Thumb of Green

Even her peas seem pleased; Her stalks of corn wave gleefully While timid leeks peek at sunbeams. Her eyes gleaming, she softly sifts The rich, dark soil of her garden Through her fingers, then lingers For a glance at tomato plants. She Vows every year to curtail her sowing And every year, without fail, she reaps More than before. Sufficient to feed The entire town which she does, driving Around, baskets of dew-kissed, crisp Produce delivered with cheerful care. The earth's bounty is to be shared, she Once told me, pointing to her plot of green. Now her face of glowing sheen beneath A wide-brimmed hat shows that the sharing Part is the heart of her beloved garden.
Copyright © April 2004 Mell W. Morris

This Poem was Critiqued By: Sherri L Smith On Date: 2004-05-06 22:00:03
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.03846
Dear Mell, This is a wonderful portrait of someone who actually loves what she is doing. Her garden means a lot to her, but yes you can tell that the sharing is the her first love. It is wonderful that she has the talent of the greeen thumb. That truly is a talent, I sure didn't inherit it from my Mom! Thanks Mell for sharing this wonderful story poem. Sherri

This Poem was Critiqued By: Jennifer j Hill On Date: 2004-05-05 16:40:19
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.81250
Hi Mell, This is a treat for the ears. I enjoy reading it aloud. "Thumb of Green" is just a hint of the wonderous "E" assonance your poem is chock full of. There is so much assonance I can not possibly mention it all in my critique, but right from the start you tell us "even her peas seem pleased" and 4 out of the five words used have the "E" sound. I love the image of the corn standing tall and waving. This is a person so dedicated to growing veggies, she can stop only by way of death. Alliteration of softly/sifts in S-2 adds dimension, as does your slant rhyme of fingers/lingers. Again the imagry is nice and through out the poem the reader gets a sense of this prolific gardner in her garden sifting through the soil, love of the work in her eyes, and in her car with all her baskets of veggies, wearing her hat, as she perspires from her toiling. All visuals that reinforce her gardener image and endear her to the reader, along with her philosophy of life. Finding all the rhyme in your poetry is one of the most rewarding and endearing endeavors. Here I see glance/plants, curtail/fail, more/before, town/around, green/sheen, part/heart all adding the rhythm I dearly love to hear. Cheerful/care in S-5 another wellplaced allit, adding to the sounds. The music of dew-kissed crisp is downright delightful music! I enjoyed this one so much. I dabble in the garden a bit and have always wished I could be this kind of person with a thumb of green and an abundance of produce, but alas I barely get enough for my own family. Thanks for posting this and I hope you're doing well these days. Blessings, Jennifer
This Poem was Critiqued By: Thomas Edward Wright On Date: 2004-04-20 22:53:05
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.39535
Mell- Haven't I seen this before? If not, I apologize for my insouciance. I loved it the last time I read it. Wherever that was...maybe it's a re-write. If so, I rest my case. I have nothing constructive to add. A flower in my pot. tom
This Poem was Critiqued By: Rick Barnes On Date: 2004-04-16 03:08:58
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Mell, This is SUCH a joy to read. Your flow and anchoring of rhymes is sheer mastery of the genre. Just as I feel full envy for this woman's relationship with the earth and its bounty you bring her secret full-force-'round, " the sharing Part is the heart of her beloved garden." Exquisite, simply exquisite. Rick
This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne Duval Morgan On Date: 2004-04-13 09:02:21
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
The sheen indicates to me she toils at having this green thumb. Thinking about my Mother here, this so represents, Mom's green thumb (something I didn't seem to inherit, ha ha). The love of the earth, the closeness of having the soil, dark and humid wetness worked in juncunction with this God given Grace, but why now, it's Gods bounty we reap, in all aspects of growth, were it not for the Creators gift, no green thumbs would be nesessary. I do love the gifts of her toil that she so willing shared, and delivered, I can't tell you the bounty that left my Mother's garden, and she so willing shared, and gave the bounty so willingly. Yep the poem runs beautifully, is melodic, captivating, and creates great memories, many women in our area had their gardens, or fruit arbors, so as melodic your rendering so to the memories flow with the same eae. Thanks I need these poems to bolster a sagging existence, the poem proclaims all the bounty and leaves the reader marveling. It's lovely, soft, full of the persona, I can even smell the earth, wonderful memories for me Mell. In two weeks Debbie will be here, I'm attempting to get the apartment in order, no easy to accomplish in short bursts of energy, but I'm flying high to know we'll meet face to face....exciting I am, my Irish is bursting out all over, ha ha. Love, Jo
This Poem was Critiqued By: Marcia McCaslin On Date: 2004-04-12 22:49:19
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Hi Mell--wow, I am envious of her garden--and your inner rhymes and way with a story or portrait, this is. Each line is so earth-filled, that I almost think you've been out there in the dirt yourself, producing enough for your town. What a generous thought that is, and I think it reflects true garden- lovers everywhere. (At one time I actually wanted to get a hit song so I could afford to buy a farm north of Phoenix and drive produce for city dwellers who could not afford to buy--my friend & I laugh about that dream to this day) But you have hit the nail on the head with the idea that she knows "the sharing part is the heart of her beloved garden. Your inner rhymes shine is practically each line, but they are so ORIGINAL and fresh. Who would have guessed: glance/plants? dew-kissed/crisp. Her peas are pleased and her leeks peak. This has breath, Mell--I can see the heart of this poem beating. My favorite line is the picture of her in the wide-brimmed hat, shading the glowing sheen of her face. Kindness spills itself all over your page. Gleefully is such a good word for how her corn waves--it reflects the supreme generosity of the gardener and of God who gives every good thing in its season. I can just see this corn--its wave is irristible-- I would have to stop in! The colors have come forward too--peas are green, corn is yellow, leeks are green/white, the good earth is dark (rich brown), the tomatoes are probably red, her hat is straw colored. You can't help yourself, I know, but everything you write has such depth and power, stemming from a source of knowledge, I can't get to the bottom of it--nor do I want to--I just want more to read. Thanks and Best Wishes! Marcia
This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2004-04-12 19:58:19
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Mell: Did I dream it, or have I read this one before? It is fresh, new and as full of vitality as if just born; but still, I swear I've lingered on these lines before. In any case, the poem reminds me of our own Marcia. I don't know that this is exactly what she does, but I have a (framed) mental picture of her, somehow. Just as the woman in the soil, her generosity -- "the sharing part" is the heart of her garden and poetry. Well, but I am getting off track. It could be a bit of exuberance - finding your poem just now, when I submitted one not minutes ago, too. And even both of them about growing things. And I swear to you, I almost used the word "gleefully" - I 'heard' it but chose another. I love the wit that fills this piece with Mell-i-fluent light. Her "peas seem pleased" - how delightful the images of little green pods, glowing, growing joyfully because of "Her Thumb of Green." If you wrote this before and I read it, I am going to feel foolish for not remembering who this is written 'about' if specific to one person. But of course, it is universal and brings to mind my own Irish grandmother, whose thumbs were kelly green. Her dahlias grew to over six feet tall. But again, I digress. I am so happy to find the second of two poems by you in a short space that I am giddy. This is a rare, rare day - a "Rick Barnes" AND a "NEKK" poem all in the same day! So you see, I have a lot to feel happy about. In a world where "timid leeks peek at sunbeams" all is well. It is this world I crave and one you generously invite me to enjoy. You've the genius, as far as I'm concerned, of fanciful alliteration that is never too much -- assonance that is mind-boggling and ear-tickling. Imagery that is delicious enough to eat - and this poem is full of edibles. Her eyes gleaming, she softly sifts The rich, dark soil of her garden Through her fingers, then lingers For a glance at tomato plants. She --Oh, I so love the witty rhyme of "glance/plants" Vows every year to curtail her sowing And every year, without fail, she reaps More than before. Sufficient to feed The entire town which she does, driving Around, baskets of dew-kissed, crisp (succulently delectable words) Produce delivered with cheerful care. The earth's bounty is to be shared, she Once told me, pointing to her plot of green. All at once your poem calls up the images for me of the years when I belonged to an organic co-op. "earth's bounty" was shared, and it was incredibly, lusciously, and carefully grown. Such produce had an added taste, IMO, lent by the love poured into the planting and growing of "produce." Now her face of glowing sheen beneath A wide-brimmed hat shows that the sharing Part is the heart of her beloved garden. Now you know I am completely besotted and enamoured with earthy things, plants, gardens, gardeners and generous souls who love to share. And also, quite frankly, with your poetry. This could be longer - but I would no doubt repeat myself. I am on my way to dinner, and doubt that it will be more delicious than your poem. Brava! Bunches of organic carrots, beets (and their greens), and a bouquet of sweet peas extended. (I had to get a box this time.) Kudos! Your L.L., Joanne
This Poem was Critiqued By: Turner Lee Williams On Date: 2004-04-12 19:37:55
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.90000
Mell--Back with a vengenance: this Spring weather has set your Muse loose! Oh, where to begin? Okay, great seasonal piece; uh-um, saturated with Rhymes, all kinds, but mainly internal and slant (peas/ pleased; leeks/peek; fingers/lingers; glance/plants; curtail/fail; town/around; shared/care; green/ sheen; hat/that; part/heart) in conjunction with a sprinkling of allits (she softly sifts; cheerful care; that the; does driving) combines to create some awesome vivid sentiments and tone. An array of supreb Line breaks/enjambments enhances this tribute making it an even more bodacious read. The conspicuous lack of six-syllables does not make this common nor distract from the overall effect- tiveness of this human nature/nature statement-smile. The speaker's simple, straight forward, plain language belies the profoundity and poignancy of this musical piece. Even though the title is not Heaney-like, it is apt-double smile. TLW
This Poem was Critiqued By: Wayne R. Leach On Date: 2004-04-12 19:34:26
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.92308
Mell, what a timely and beautiful contribution - and, I would think, quite a change in style from your "pen". I enjoyed this tale of sharing by someone who really enjoys her garden for the right reasons. What a super opening line. There is so much rhyming and assonance with the "ee" and short "i" sounds going on here, it just soothes the ear of the reader. Beautiful job, so I see no need to linger, except to re-read for the enjoyment. More than before. Sufficient to feed- [This sentence begins with "Sufficient...", but appears incomplete.] The entire town which she does, driving Around, baskets of dew-kissed, crisp Produce delivered with cheerful care. I wouldn't change another thing. Write on, poet. Wayne
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