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This Poem was Submitted By: Jillian K Sorenson On Date: 2004-05-11 01:04:43 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Freeway Lemons

Thousands of them, like round rays of sunlight, joyful, beautiful, perfect. I am suddenly reminded of my experiences with this fruit when its skin is removed; the sourness that is at once shocking and still delicious. I recall you last night as you made love to me, the sourness that I could almost taste lying beneath the surface of your impenetrable skin. I ask, but you respond with silence, leading me to believe that I have, yet again, read the language of your heart wrong, as a newly-blind person cannot comprehend the orderly, raised, perfect half-circles of Braille. I imagine the lemons tumbling from the truck, scattering, bursting, releasing their juices, their essence, their scent permeating the air. The spell broken, I am tearful at the disarray. In the morning, you are once again joyful, beautiful, perfect, and I pretend there is no sourness, at once shocking and delicious, beneath your skin. I become the paper doll, two-dimensional, dressing myself, kissing, scratching, caressing you, not asking what I, the paper doll in all her levity, has no concern for, and you have no answers for. It is enough that your essence doesn't spill, your perfect scent permeating only my memory.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Jennifer j Hill On Date: 2004-06-04 09:03:53
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.91667
Hi Jillian, Welcome to the link. Hope you'll stick around. Your metaphors are producing (ha!) such fresh imagry! I feel like I am standing at the fruit-n-veggie stand in the country, looking at the REAL DEAL when I read your poem. You communicate thoughts and feelings well here and you do it in such a fresh invigorating way. I have no suggestions for improvement. I love it just the way it is. I just wanted to comment before the end of the contest. Blessings, Jennifer

This Poem was Critiqued By: Regis L Chapman On Date: 2004-06-02 18:09:19
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Wow. That's eerie. I felt like while I was reading this poem that all my old girlfriends had gotten together and written a poem about me. Eek! it's a portrait that really shines for me on the other side of the wall of distance I tend to erect for myself. I think it's the thing that's my worst trait, and one I have to constantly monitor to stay in a caring mode, but yet have enough distance to be rational. Super good work in the emotional department, and the physical references really touch on the stinging touch of lemon juice in the wounds of the heart that are clear from this work. It's written in a very present tense for the most part and then only at the end do we know it's a memory. Interesting that my last reviewed poem was also about loss. I have commented in other recently critiqued works how these often come in 2's and 3's as I go along. I never fail to be amazed about this. Great job. Thanks, REEG!

This Poem was Critiqued By: Sandra J Kelley On Date: 2004-05-29 09:29:17
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.72000
Thousands of them, like round rays of sunlight, joyful, beautiful, perfect. ( I can see them piled on a market stall in the sunshine) I am suddenly reminded of my experiences with this fruit when its skin is removed; the sourness that is at once shocking ( and now taste them) and still delicious. I recall you last night as you made love to me, (wow,the poem has taken on a different direction and now love making is full of the sourness of the lemons and the sunlight and brightness of their skin) the sourness that I could almost taste lying beneath the surface of your impenetrable skin. I ask, but you respond with silence, leading me to believe that I have, yet again, read the language of your heart wrong,(very poigant this is supurb) as a newly-blind person cannot comprehend the orderly, raised, perfect half-circles of Braille. I imagine the lemons tumbling from the truck, scattering, bursting, releasing their juices, their essence, their scent permeating the air.(you have handled the transition back to metaphor perfectly) The spell broken, I am tearful at the disarray. In the morning, you are once again joyful, beautiful, perfect, and I pretend there is no sourness, at once shocking and delicious, beneath your skin. I become the paper doll, two-dimensional, dressing myself, kissing, scratching, caressing you, not asking what I, the paper doll in all her levity, has no concern for, and you have no answers for. It is enough that your essence doesn't spill, your perfect scent permeating only my memory. Wow, I think this is awesome try submitting it to some print magazines to get a wider audiance. Sandra

This Poem was Critiqued By: Edwin John Krizek On Date: 2004-05-23 11:22:20
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.50000
Dear Jillian, What a good, interesting and sad poem this is. I love the lemon metaphor with both its sensuality and its tastes. But so sad that the encounter depicted here shows an impenetrable partner who does not share his essence. Good job. Ed Krizek

This Poem was Critiqued By: Molly Johnson On Date: 2004-05-21 12:16:22
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
You know the title of this poem is a homerun hit. It generates a real curiosity and opens the door for an intriguing comparrison. You have some interesting contrasting imagery between the unexpectedly bitter and bright. As advice for this poem I would say a few things. You've placed us in the emotional moment but this poem seems like it has a physical moment that should speak as loud. In the morning , show me the subject is joyful and beautiful. What does it look like? Also you might want to think a little about the pronouns. The "I" can be implicit in places and if you can work it out of the poem, it may open the poem up for the reader to experience the moments. See what it does to the poem to take out the "you" and put in "he". I know it's an intensely personal moment but by making it a mental conversation between two people you risk shutting the reader out. That said, I'm carzy about the essence and the skin of this poem. You have some really pungent power players here. Good Luck MollyJ

This Poem was Critiqued By: Thomas Edward Wright On Date: 2004-05-12 05:30:50
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.85714
I kept waiting for my car to break down. But you were there, your lemons, your loins, and all your loving washing over me. I could not but open them, one at a time, and read the seeds, bathe in the freshness. My silence was too loud for lemonade, yes. I should have mentioned how delicately you squeezed me, how in my emptiness you filled my panting rind, how your inquest sends a mind reeling, running - but the evasiveness cannot last. and one day I will quell your fears. too loud for lemonade, too quiet for you. if this is a freeway, let's pull over. if this is a wayside rest - we're not there yet.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Stefanie L Ankle On Date: 2004-05-11 11:31:18
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Jillian, you have an amazing talent.You've taken the mundane, a lemon, and managed to convey love and longing, memory and the seemingly random things that triggers it. Your poem is of such high caliber that I have only one issue that might improve it. The words themselves when read have such flow and power that I have no reason to ask you to reconsider your use of diction, but taking your poem to the next level-the visual-I wonder if the commas actually add to the power, or rather, detract from the visual flow. Is it possible that some of the words can stand on their own, without the use of commas, perhaps when you mean to cause a poem or isolate a certain phrase or topic. With such talent you have quite a right to use your poetic license and ignore some of the stifling rules of grammar. I love your imagery, especially the paper doll idea, and the curves of Braille - not only do I imagine the disadvantage of the "newly blind", I also imagine soft curves, an image of unfulfilled longing. Every read has caused me to focus on something new, some different aspect of the power of lemons, and I thank you for that.

This Poem was Critiqued By: G. Donald Cribbs On Date: 2004-05-11 09:38:16
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
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

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