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This Poem was Submitted By: Mell W. Morris On Date: 2004-05-26 17:29:04 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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The Color of Harmony

I forget how joy feels until it returns And then it is akin to Coltrane realms. His hand at the helm, matter falls away From itself. Whatever the situation, The emotional part of any event has more Appeal: the shadow cast more interesting Than its source. My days extend in grief Until relief appears and I strive to save Myself from me in between. My feelings Resist words so how can you know what I cannot say? I seek peace in mind and body And I perpetuate while droplets of happy Punctuate often enough to guarantee my Continued search. Then comes the hour When my being reappears, renewed, no ails, Resonant as both tines of a tuning fork. Ah, there will be high C and champagne Uncorked for all notes on the scale... And especially abounding, The sound of me.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Elaine Marie Phalen On Date: 2004-06-06 21:48:50
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.90909
Ah, Mell, your trademark internal rhyme is splendidly in evidence here. The cadence is lyrically lilting, and I'm picking up four beats per line, more or less. Enjambment sustains this rhythm throughout. You also have such a sure eye for line breaks! "I strive to save myself from me". Yes, that's how we must muddle between despair and ecstasy. Your poem embraces and acknowledges both. We all want those "droplets of happy" (lovely, and well suited to the champagne that is to come). We all want "no ails" (neat way of using a verb as a noun). But we can't always get what we think we must have. Coltrane's music is a step towards perfect resolution, though. Self-awareness and self-acceptance are the other parts of this triad. The physical model for harmony is music; the spiritual reflection of harmony is insight. Resonant as both tines of a tuning fork. [whoa Nellie! great stuff ...] Ah, there will be high C and champagne [this is a most happy combination: music and wine] Uncorked for all notes on the scale... [yes; opportunities for joy are always being offered] And especially abounding, The sound of me. What a great build to a superb finish! This is my favoprite passage, which is nice since it's the end and that's where you want the strongest impression. Leave 'em with a real punch! "The sound of me" definitely gives us that. I think I needed to read this piece tonight. I went to my retirement banquet last night, as one of 11 retirees. Afterwards, I sat in the car, while my son-in-law and daughter were in the front seat. I wondered what in hell I was doing there, why I was packing it in and how I'd ever manage to cope with the sudden cessation of my whole career. I was - and still am, to a degree - at a rather low ebb. Your poem gives me an affirmation that seems directed right at me. I do have to listen for "the sound of me" and magnify it all I can. Retirement and a new start are parts of the overall melody. Thank you so much for this gift of poetry. Brenda

This Poem was Critiqued By: Mark Steven Scheffer On Date: 2004-06-01 12:04:34
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Mell, This poem was evenly good throughout. Some peaks here and there, but the whole was a formidable ridge. Hannibal and his elephants would have trouble moving over this. That is meant as a compliment. Hannibal was not the friend of poetry. He would meet a word like "tines" with a fearful stomping. You say, "the shadow cast more interesting than it's source." I could not imagine a more awful feeling for a source. It's good to see you coming out of the low notes. Mark

This Poem was Critiqued By: Turner Lee Williams On Date: 2004-05-28 15:44:02
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.81818
Mell–Another pleasurable adventure via your creative pen. I called on some “Naima” ; “Equinox” and “My favorite things” to keep me company as I reviewed this. No need for verbosity here: Piece infers that doldrums does visit , however, this Coltrane fellow’s music has the answer- smile; Speaker does whatever it takes (in spite of self) to get sanely/safely from twilight to twilight; and keep going/moving/working toward a special light; constantly trying to reach a utopia. This awed reader’s ‘new’ favorite phrase (“My feelings resist words so how can you know what I cannot say?”). No need to say how profound/heavy that query really is. You continue to effortlessly produce such high quality poetry while dealing with health issues at the same time. Then there’s that command of the free verse genre that seem made for your special delivery. Thanks for sharing. TLW

This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2004-05-27 14:07:03
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.95238
Dear Mell: You've give voice to speaker from the experience of one who is acutely sensitive to music (emotions made audible - my own definition). Thus, a speaker who listens to music always, paying attention to "the shadow cast" more than its source. Something here reminds me of sunlight. We cannot really look at the sun for any length of time without being blinded, but we looked at the results of sunlight -- color, shadow, shape, scintillation -- life itself on planet earth. The title's combination of color and harmony is very inviting. The idea that harmony has a color is a refreshing concept. I thought of 'blue' but sometimes, listening to Coltrane or Miles Davis, I see or feel warm tones of gold, yellow and tangerine, plus citrus green. In any case, the poem glistens with all of the patina of Coltrane's sax. It seems almost redundant to comment on your poetics - the assonance of "helm/realms" for example. But throughout all of your work, your ways with sound is truly music to my ears. Internal rhymes like "grief/relief" seem to add to the intense sense that we are listening to "soul music" here. The origins of jazz, it seems, are as present in this work as the speaker's own search for "peace in mind and body." Trane was a brilliant musician -- an innovator who searched for expression by reaching for new sounds. He stretched boundaries of tone and color, challenged listeners to listen more deeply. In this way I feel your work resembles his. Did he also "strive to save/myself from me in between" -- ? "My feelings /resist words so how can you know /what I cannot say?" The heart of your substance poetically isn't in the individual words, you show us here, but in the entire work - I'd even suggest the entire body of your work. How can others presume to know, by dissecting out bits and parts, that which you feel? We may have a feeling in response to the words you give us, but in the end, those are our own feelings. This question gave me pause to reflect on poetry and music as well. What is it that we hear when listening to music - if my theory holds any water that music is emotions made audible? Do we really hear the emotions of the poet/musician, or or own emotions in response to anothers? Is not each reaction a new creation? You give us a poem, Trane gives us music. Our response is a new creation which tells us more about ourselves than it does about the poet or jazz artist. A saying I've heard, something like, "When the student is ready, the teacher appears" seems apropos here, as we must bring a certain readiness to the experience of reading or listening. The poet/musician/artist's creative genius is in expression of nuance, of that which words cannot really capture, in such a way that the reader/listening is "resonant as both tines of a tuning fork" as you've shown us elegantly in L4 of S4. "I seek peace in mind and body/And I perpetuate while droplets of happy/Punctuate often enough to guarantee my/Continued search." "droplets of happy" -- what an incredible image/sound! "happy" as a noun is as innovative as any jazz riff, as pleasurable to the reader's imagination. Your 'riff' above, with its plucky plosives (peace/perpetuate/droplets/punctuate) makes me want to linger with these lines. Reading "Then comes the hour/when my being reappears, renewed, no ails," is like standing under a waterfall, being refreshing by healing 'droplets' and rhythm. Because the speaker continued to "perpetuate" the search for peace --- when the moment arrived when her being to be reborn, to reappear as renewed and whole -- she wouldn't have been ready. If we aren't listening with our whole souls to music, to poetry, then we bring less than our receptive souls to the moment, and so may lose out on the magic moment. If we are ready to surrender this way, like the poet, we can anticipate such a celebration as well. This poem is a hint, a taste of this "champagne uncorked" for "ALL the notes on the scale" --- in a sense, if we are listening to every word and nuance, are ready to lay aside our preconceptions of how the music (poem) *ought* to sound, we may be thus blessed. Your poem abounds in grace, and is as graceful as any I've read. You show us how to listen, carefully, for the "abounding/ the sound of me." If we listen well, we may hear the poet's expansion of tone and color, accept here the challenge to listen more deeply and become more ourselves, like the challenge Coltrane offered his very fortunate listeners. I count myself among the fortunate to have heard and, I hope, understood the message. I feel lighter and blessed to hear your abounding sound. My soul is singing the "high C" and my hands are raised in applause! Brava! Thank you for the lingering gift of this poem, for tonalities as yet unheard -- until now. Raising my glass of bubbly for a toast to you, poet. Congratulations once more. All my best, Joanne

This Poem was Critiqued By: Thomas Edward Wright On Date: 2004-05-27 07:13:29
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.47500
Hello Mello How can anyone argue with that? Fill my glass. And pass the nuts. t

This Poem was Critiqued By: Wayne R. Leach On Date: 2004-05-26 19:15:13
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.41667
Mell, the music in this is magnificent, as is the excellent interior rhymes of your enjambments. The alliterations and assonance are also superb. I did hesitate with the word "ails" for some reason. I wonder if "ills" might work better? Only a minor thought/suggestion. It is a great poem. Thanks - and, as always - peace. wrl

This Poem was Critiqued By: G. Donald Cribbs On Date: 2004-05-26 18:15:16
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.85294
Mell, Every poem of your that I am fortunate enough to read just makes my respect for you as a talent and a writer greater and greater. There are many who call themselves poets, but few who actually are. I believe you are truly a "poet." I learn so much with the way you craft a poem, laying it delicately on a page as if a rare fish caught, filleted, and deboned, ready for searing and wine, or champagne, as you've alluded to here. Yours is a delicate art, a finely crafted and tuned note, perfect in pitch and leaping off the page as the reader's soul leaps in his chest from reading the poem. My comments here are sincere. I have a great deal of respect for your work, and I appreciate your sharing it with us so we may learn from you. Here are just a few comments: The Color of Harmony [you take it on with the title, an abstract thought made concrete by stunning imagery and intonations.] I forget how joy feels until it returns [a great beginning line. I want to read this!] And then it is akin to Coltrane realms. His hand at the helm, matter falls away [I love this, "matter falls away/from itself."] From itself. Whatever the situation, The emotional part of any event has more Appeal: the shadow cast more interesting [your images are so well crafted as with this one] Than its source. My days extend in grief [nice poetics here with grief/relief and strive/save] Until relief appears and I strive to save Myself from me in between. My feelings Resist words so how can you know what [a great question to be pondered for a long while!] I cannot say? I seek peace in mind and body And I perpetuate while droplets of happy Punctuate often enough to guarantee my Continued search. Then comes the hour When my being reappears, renewed, no ails, Resonant as both tines of a tuning fork. Ah, there will be high C and champagne Uncorked for all notes on the scale... And especially abounding, The sound of me. This last stanza is exquisite. Every poem should build to this level of sophistication. You nail it with this ending. It stands strong and alone and everything before it builds right up to the ending. Simply marvelous to behold. Thank you for sharing it with us. Warm regards, Don

This Poem was Critiqued By: Sandra J Kelley On Date: 2004-05-26 18:13:15
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.65000
Mell, I like the poem very much-however, I think that with a name like color of harmony we need some colors in the poem also, that would give a visual to go with the auditory nature of this poem. I forget how joy feels until it returns And then it is akin to Coltrane realms. (that is great) His hand at the helm, matter falls away From itself. Whatever the situation, The emotional part (of any event I would think about omiting these words)has more Appeal: the (grey silk) shadow cast more interesting Than its source. My days extend in grief Until relief appears and I strive to save Myself from me in between. My feelings Resist words so how can you know what I cannot say? I seek peace in mind and body And I perpetuate while (white, blue )droplets of happy Punctuate often enough to guarantee my Continued search. Then comes the hour When my being reappears, renewed, no ails, Resonant as both tines of a tuning fork. Ah, there will be high C and champagne Uncorked for all notes on the scale... And especially abounding, The sound of me. I like the poem and love coltrane being compared to joy. I do think that color would add impact but don't subtract the music and sound this is based on. Sandra

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