This Poem was Submitted By: Mell W. Morris On Date: 2004-05-13 12:37:04 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Where The Heart Is

Each time I move, I leave part of myself. My lilac tree courses with sap of trust,  Truth, and tears, and its blooms toss Like virgin-velvet runes. Snippets of thread must lie in corners From hours of plying needle to sew a hem, Mend for him while I unraveled crooked Seams and faulty dreams. At least one long brown hair to prove I Lived there and left pieces of me for The new dwellers who follow. As I think What delight the sight of my lilac must Bring, I wonder about the homeless, all Of their possessions abandoned in sundry Places. That may be the reason that with Every season, there seems less sum And substance and more shadow to them. Then I feel blessed but cannot let go my numbing Query: in their barren lives, Enduring such strife... Where do their lilacs grow?
Copyright © May 2004 Mell W. Morris

This Poem was Critiqued By: Wayne R. Leach On Date: 2004-06-06 09:07:51
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.49057
Mell, a beautiful write - and read. I enjoyed it, loving the enjambment for it is so well done. Some try - and fail - with this poetic tool. The imagery could not be more emphatic, as it grows into completion near the end with the "shadows" of the homeless. I had several tenaments in years passed, and huge lilacs grew beside one building. It was in a section of town where homeless wandered, lingered and slept in some of the halls of my buildings in winter. I can relate very well to this wonderful poem. Thanks....and, peace. wrl

This Poem was Critiqued By: Sherri L Smith On Date: 2004-05-31 21:42:28
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Dear Mell, This is a thought provoking poem. I can identify with it as I moved a lot during my childhood years. I wonder if I left pieces of myself in those places where I lived. Feeling like I had no roots, but longing for a home. I lived in the same house for 20 years, with a man I didn't love, for the reason I couldn't face the move, the change. Even now, I have a hard time moving furniture around in my house. I like to keep things the same. Speaking of lilac bushes, I finally got one for myself, just like I always wanted and planted in my back yard. I feel for the homeless, but can emphasise with those that had to leave everything behind. Thanks for sharing. Sherri
This Poem was Critiqued By: Jordan Brendez Bandojo On Date: 2004-05-18 02:40:51
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.87500
Dear Mell, This poem is a champion in all aspects of formulation! Outstanding and superb! Poignant and profound! I immediately see the significance of the poem by its title. After reading the poem, I immdiately know where your heart is. You bring concerned to less-fortunate people and to people who do not know the direction of their lives for some reason. That is what I feel here, as I can see your social concern. Where do their lilacs grow? Amazing metaphor in a question form! So much in this piece that awakens us. We need to know where our heart is and let our lilacs grow to give us fragrance not only for our own but for the rest of the people surrounding us! I would no longer comment on the technicality! It is perfect with all the poetic devices. The poem is adorned and I am bewitched naturally! Thanks for sharing, Mell. More of your hearfelt poems! Jordan
This Poem was Critiqued By: Thomas Edward Wright On Date: 2004-05-14 06:19:39
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.28571
The Summa Cum Loudly The hair in the corner the thread in the nest my lilacs in purple I know I am blest. the homeless have nowhere to unbend their knees, perhaps I should send them one of these trees. I'll call Air Express Or maybe a tree man who'll dig up a bush and stick it in a van. He can plant it in town where the homeless gather, they can stand around, and blither and blather about how beautiful it is, this purple lilac bush: it's from Mrs. Morris whose poetry's as lush. and they'll feel better than they've felt in some time; 'Cause ol' Morris the Poet gave 'em more than a rhyme.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Turner Lee Williams On Date: 2004-05-14 02:21:56
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.66667
Mell–I was beginning to wonder if you were alright (I almost emailed U-smile), when suddenly you post this bittersweet gem. Does this mean “Home” needed to complete the title/theme. And, again I find myself taking this piece figuratively and literally. I remember the speaker moving recently and as with any move there are those things that are left behind that can’t be taken: dreams (good, bad, or indifferent) and doted on lilac tree (“My lilac tree courses with sap of trust, truth, and tears and its blooms toss like virgin-velvet runes”-Wow! great allits/metaphors/personifications). Stanzas #4/5/6 recall to mind the old adage ‘one man’s junk is another man’s treasure;’ Moreover, these same strophes shows self- redemption (IMO) through excellent twist/ turn: transition from personal situation and ‘well being’ to plight of the less fortunate; “...in their barren lives, Enduring such strife... Where do their lilac grow?” (Ouch!! This is painful to read and even worse to think on) Your combinations of effacing verbiage and internal rhymes seams/dreams; delight/ sight; reason/season not only help paint vivid imagery of mixed emotions, but produce a solemn tone. I only hope my summation was somewhere in the area of your intent. Thanks for giving me a badly needed Mellancholic fix-smile. TLW
This Poem was Critiqued By: Rick Barnes On Date: 2004-05-13 21:22:21
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Mell, You have a certain knack for packing my wonder gear and sending me into the mystery. And so it is with this rune. I am always wondering what is going on with you,(and with Dear Joanne as well), and wondering being my favorite activity I'm usually content to leave it at that. There are always exceptions and like it or not you happen to be one, so there we are. I think this is mainly because you and I share a certain je ne sais quoi. Not that our lives in any way mirror one another but we seem to share certain reflections. This work speaks to me in way I have tried in many ways to speak to myself. I have always been distrustful of the concept of "home", as an actual place. This is probably more a result of my particular childhood than of any arduos philosophical inquiry om my part. Home may be something that is created for us when we are very young and much more in need of it. And if we were so fortunate as to have known it, we carry it with us always. If not, we either create it for ourselves or we remaim "homeless". To read this work is to find a little homelessness in ourselves. But in no way is this a pitiful find. It is a joyous discovery. It tells us we are alway leaving home and while we can never return to what we have left, people places and things are not quite the same for our having been there. It must be when we lose the aroma of own existence that we are finally and forever without lilacs. Thank you for this lilac Mell. Rick
This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2004-05-13 18:45:33
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Dear Mell: It's more than a coincidence, I think. Truly, I don't believe in them, but take all events as signals. This poem appearing today, same day as mine, and your comments to me, and mine to you, I think are evidence of an underlying fabric which unites individuals such as we. This poem is an incredibly meaningful one to me, even if I separate it from its context (our mutual loves of poetry, writings on the link, et al). It speaks so tenderly of love and loss, of all that can be pried away from us during life's unexpected turns as to reveal the very substance of our souls. The first line can be read as addressing a 'move' from one house to another, as well as physical movement, and, if one is so inclined, a move from one state of being to another. You have touched upon the archetypal within experience here. Your lilac tree speaks of the "sap of trust" and also of "truth, and tears" - and the alliteration with "toss" infuses these lines with a sense of delicate effort, if you will. The thought of "blooms toss/like virgin-velvet runes" captures the purity of these blossoms and their demise seems to foreshadow the kinds of losses identified in this poem. How could such delicate "virgin-velvet runes" (this evokes the image of a virgin, dressed in lilac velvet, with her life perhaps in 'ruins' to this reader) foretell anything but something of poignancy, but with an innate, indestructible beauty? "Runes" as defined in my Webster's alludes to "mystery" and "secret discussion" and the Old Irish 'rún mystery' - which seems very apropos given your predilection for Irish poetry. Snippets of thread must lie in corners From hours of plying needle to sew a hem, Mend for him while I unraveled crooked Seams and faulty dreams. The powerful L1 in S2 reveals a 'scissoring sound' with "snippets" and an allusion to that which remains hidden, or deceitful, like the thread which "must lie in corners." Sharp scissors/needles, but subtle implications, as the sounds of the scissors are muted. The undefined 'him' could be a spouse or male child. The subdued anguish of the lines, the hours spent "plying needle to sew a hem", to "mend for him" while unraveling "crooked seams" and "faulty dreams" perhaps carry the implication that the speaker exhausts herself with efforts to 'mend' the relationship, "unravel" that which had gone awry in life (in both lives). The fallen blossoms seem to have released her cherished dreams . The word 'faulty' suggests, at least to this reader, that the speaker may believe her dreams were unfulfilled because of a 'fault' within herself. Forgive me if I have strayed too far from your intent. "At least one long brown hair to prove I Lived there and left pieces of me" -- Your poem "Every Poem An Autograph" comes to mind for me here. As always, your poetics are deftly handled, so beautifully detailed and encoded into the work as to be nearly 'invisible' stitches. "brown/follow", "new/dwellers" are tiny samples of your superb artistry. "As I think What delight the sight of my lilac must Bring, I wonder about the homeless, all Of their possessions abandoned in sundry Places. That may be the reason that with Every season, there seems less sum Etymologically, abandoned means to be "un-called" or to be "without a destiny." According to Webster's New World Dictionary of the American Language, the verb 'abandon' means: 1. Give up (something) completely; 2. to leave, forsake, desert; 3. to yield completely. The speaker perhaps identifies with the homeless, their plight of being subject to 'the summons' or the power of the call (or summoning). Each word you've chosen here adds to the sense of the nearly universal experience of being severed from remembrance of each one's own true indentity, summed brilliantly in your exquisite, truly empathic final line: "Where do their lilacs grow?" The speaker gives us a vision of something greater than ourselves, perhaps a chance to uncover that which remains hidden (like the mysterious message of the runes) within. The poet Robert Browning said that the role of art was for the writer, artist, poet, composer, dancer, or craftsperson to reveal the work of the soul itself. That, I think, is what you have done in this poem. For this I can only offer my thanks and deepest admiration! You've expanded my understanding into a new level of awareness and inspired me to continue in my own efforts. Brava, brava, brava! I will dream of volumes of leather-bound poetry with your name on them. All my best, Joanne
This Poem was Critiqued By: marilyn terwilleger On Date: 2004-05-13 17:42:55
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.75000
Hi Mell, I caught this poem before it had so many crits that it sped to the bottom of my list! This writing is one of the most amazing from your pen...as it speaks to me in everyway. Written in free verse it gives us a glimpse into the poets deepest thoughts. Each time I move, I leave part of myself...I think this line speaks of 'where' you move from that part of you stays behind...like love, trust, truth, and tears and if you find those things again they will not be the same in a new place but will remain with the old. Like virgin-velvet runes...this is an exquisite line and I wish I had written it. Snippets of thread must lie in corners...like our dreams our fantasies you mended for him trying to unravel what was crooked unable to make life smooth. But you left one long brown hair to prove your existance in the old place and now you wonder how they will delight with the sight of your lilacs but you can't help but wonder where the homeless put their possessions...abandoned in sundry places? Where DO their lilacs grow? You feel blessed that you have a 'place' even though some of you remains in the old. I didn't move from my home when my husband died but it has never felt the same. In fact I have done so many improvements that it even looks different...but it is feelings that I miss....him coming home, discussing our days both good and bad, him knowing what I wanted or needed before I did. Showering me with gifts even when there was no occasion to celebrate...these things I will always miss even though I have a new life and finally am able to enjoy it without feeling guilty. I have printed this poem and will keep it always..even without asking your permission! I feel the sadness in the words but they are so expressive and beautiful throughout. Will be at the head of my list! I hope your medical problems are subsiding and that you are able to accomplish whatever you like without pain. Blessings...Marilyn
This Poem was Critiqued By: Sandra J Kelley On Date: 2004-05-13 14:46:20
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 8.50000
Mell, this is wonderful, I love to see the bits and pieces of yourself you have left in all of the places where you have been. I also love the lilac that is throughout the poem. Where I grew up there was a lilac bush outside the front door and this poem reminded me of that pogiently. Here they do not grow at all well. I also enjoyed how you added another layer to think about when you introduced the idea of the homeless having no place to grow lilacs. Very nicely done. Sandra
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