This Poem was Submitted By: Jana Buck Hanks On Date: 2004-07-09 00:09:53 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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JOURNEY OF THE CRYSTAL CAVE

Beneath the theurgic thick canopy, a trail blends easily into the mouth of the secret grotto, rocks carved like flat earthen shelves along the entrance.  I see this place in numerous dreams,  my hand fleetingly touches tellurian layers and spiraling surges of spiritual protection embrace me.  A delicate child size china tea set appears for just a second on a stone ledge. Caught in a moment of revelry, my mind slips back to another time; a place of teas sets, smoked wooden beams and rows of glass jars holding vegetables suspended in the liquid labor of Grandma’s love.  My bare footsteps echo in the surrounding  solitude.  Why can I not hear the Goddess walk?  An unknown source forms a lyrical stream through the belly of this miraculous cave, giving birth to symphonic stereo sounds bouncing music off crystal clear walls;  singing the song of creation to my soul.  Holding my left hand out, palm side up, energy gathers in a swirling sparkle all around me.  Holding my right arm out, palm side up and pointing into the distance, I send guided bolts of immense power across the way; where a massive ancient oak door materializes.  A door etched in magick ceremonial symbols, set in the wall of solid crystal.  The Goddess chants quietly, “Your will be done.”  I stand alone before this holy portal, reaching for the jewel encrusted handle in the center of the Druid door, surprised at how easily it opens on silent hinges.  In dream-state I step through the threshold into other lifetimes and future fancy.

Copyright © July 2004 Jana Buck Hanks

Additional Notes:
LUCID DREAMING


This Poem was Critiqued By: arnie s WACHMAN On Date: 2004-08-03 13:21:34
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 8.95238
Do you dream in color? It appears so, as the images are so vivid. Just a quick note to say this is all so true. Isn't the mind a wonderful thing? Yes, it can cause us headaches sometimes, but it can also allow us to re-experience pleasant moments with those that no longer walk the planet. Nice read.


This Poem was Critiqued By: Mell W. Morris On Date: 2004-07-30 14:08:28
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.93750
Jana: It is so good to see you back at TPL and find your poem on my list. I don't know what happened to you nor is it my business but so many people are gone and in many cases, I think it's TPL that brings that decision. The 1st thing I noticed about your lovely poem is that it is still free verse, unmetered and unrhymed, but your poem is punctuated! Thank you, thank you! I know many poets eschew capital letters, punctuation, etc, but it makes a difficult go for the reader. (This reader, anyway). Now instead of trying to determine where the sentence stops, etc, I can simply enjoy the creation itself. You use enjambment like a pro! The title itself is beguiling and the 1st stanza we find ourselves on a path to a secret cave and anything can happen! The reader can't stop now. My only stumble was on theurgic canopy... I always thought the word meant one who works miracles or aids used by divine workers. I hope I got it right with the 2nd meaning. The cave is one which is central to your life, appearing in dreams, and as you touch the layers, if they are tellurian, they formed when earth was new...so, I begin to wonder if the cave is part of a time travel for you. Espying a tea set, you remember something about your gmother and I love this phrase: "glass jars holding vegetables suspended in the liquid labor of Grandma's love." I realize I am doing an exegesis of your poem and not pointing to any poetics. BUT I notice them like the susurration of "spiraling surges spiritual embrace" or the allits in "theurgic thick trails". Jana, I'm so caught up in your saga about the cave, I don't care about the formation of letters, if you get what I mean. I'm not saying they don't work or anything negative but that your story in the poem enchants me so I care about nothing but the scenes so neatly unfolding. You wonder about the presence of the Goddess as a "lyrical stream" forms which produces wondrous sounds of euphony and symphony. And here is the loveliest phrase of all for me: "singing the song of creation to my soul." Ah, exquisite. Thereafter, you gather energy on your left side, power on your right. With utilization of this power, a door appears for you, a door with magical symbols, and a jewel-encrusted handle. It opens easily to your touch. Still in dream-state, you walk through the portal into "other lifetimes and future fancy." This satisfies me as reader that you reached a door, a magical door, created for you that will lead you to other times, other fancy fantasies: a reward akin to heavenly realms. It also leaves the way clear for a subsequent poem. We are supposed to keep our critiques short and my health and strong meds interfer with my reviewing well. But if my critique is less than quality, I adore your poem and the mystical regions only a few can enter or write about. Better than before, Best wishes, Mell Morris
This Poem was Critiqued By: Wayne R. Leach On Date: 2004-07-22 20:12:03
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.93333
Jana, another beautiful creation from your mind - your "dreams". lol What astounding alliteration and consonance you've employed throughout this piece! The form works nicely, too. Nice use of enjambment. Now that's said, I'll raise a couple of issues, though very minor IMO. child size - [maybe "child-size"?] -and- magick - [Is this sp. intentional, or maybe an older version (O.E.) that I'm unfamiliar with? If so, my apologies.] Nothing more to give, except kudos. Regards. wrl
This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2004-07-15 12:49:16
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Hi Jana! This is a lovely, lyrical poem, done in tercets, in free verse (my favorite). Your word use is entrancing, for example the "th" in "beneath/theurgic/thick/mouth/earthen" all in S1. In L2 if S2, "tellurian" teams beautifully with "theurgic" to give the reader (me) a sense of the supernatural, of earthy mysteries. Sleek, soft sibilance invites a reader to read more with "secret/shelves/spiraling/spiritual/size/second" for example. A delicate child size china tea set appears for just a second on a stone ledge. Caught in a moment of revelry, my mind slips back to another time; a place of teas sets, smoked wooden beams and rows of glass jars holding vegetables suspended in the liquid labor of Grandma’s love. In the lines and enjambed word above, I am taken back in time along with the speaker. Nothing invokes 'magic' for me like childhood memories. I think each reader will see his or her own "child size china tea set" (child-sized?) and recall the wondrous hours passed. But you give us more -- the "smoked wooden beams" -- such warmth in the 'mm' sound, and assonance of o's with "smoked/rows/holing" -- you are a word smith par excellence. Best of all, IMO, are the "vegetables suspended in the liquid labor of Grandma's love." All the rows of green beans, pears, peaches, cherries, and so many others gleam here. The hours spent over steaming canners, preparing each one with care show a kind of love that was easy to take for granted in those days. I forgot - pickles, too! The containers are somewhat symbolic, I think, of the womb in which we receive our first 'food'. And then, the words "liquid labor" invokes the birthing of the child(ren). How wonderful that an aged woman (Grandma) is given a central role here, as fruitful and productive! My bare footsteps echo in the surrounding --lovely sibilance, once more solitude. Why can I not hear the Goddess walk? An unknown source forms a lyrical stream through the belly of this miraculous cave, giving birth to symphonic --again, the metaphoric womb stereo sounds bouncing music off crystal clear walls; singing the song of creation to my soul. Holding --simply beautiful my left hand out, palm side up, energy gathers in a swirling sparkle all around me. Holding my right arm out, palm side up and pointing into the distance, I send Would a synonym for the second "holding" work as well, for example "grip"? guided bolts of immense power across the way; where a massive ancient oak door materializes. A door etched in magick ceremonial symbols, set in the wall of solid crystal. The Goddess chants quietly, “Your will be done.” --to Whom does she pray? I stand alone before this holy portal, reaching for the jewel encrusted handle in the center of the Druid door, surprised at how easily it opens on silent hinges. In dream-state I step through the threshold into other lifetimes and future fancy. This dream-time poem lets us accompany the speaker on a new adventure of self-discovery, possibly into the past as well as the future. Since time is curved (according to Einstein's theory) it may be possible to access realms in dreams which are not available during waking hours. Often, jewels are a symbol of that which is precious, as well as abundant and brilliant. What riches in the dreamer's life are now open to her? Lovely, fanciful poem, which reminds me of Shakespeare's oft-quoted phrase used by the title character in the play in which Hamlet suggests that human knowledge is limited "There are more things in heaven and Earth, Horatio, / Than are dreamt of in your philosophy." Well-done! Best to you, (blessings sent) Joanne
This Poem was Critiqued By: Karen Ann Jacobs On Date: 2004-07-09 14:12:51
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.33333
Dear Jana, The form you’ve chosen, with the last word or thought of one stanza being carried over to the next, gave me a feeling of walking. Not the normal kind of walking, but more like a bride’s maid walk as she leads the way down the isle. I feel that your chosen form set a great rhythm and tone for the subject of this poem. I appreciated the way you demonstrated that it only took a thought, “I wondered why…” to accomplish what the seeker wanted. This is a great description of what lucid dreaming is like. I loved the way this poem went from mundane to mystical. I was reminded of all the things that surround me and connect me to the ‘normal’ world. This line, especially, made the connection a warm and gentle message, “vegetable suspended in the liquid labor of Grandma’s love”. This is a wonderful image and it invoked my happy memories of helping my grandmother and mother can. In the sixth stanza I felt the slight conflict between the mundane and the mystical when normal words like stereo, a word that invokes a technical machine, with natural words like crystal and birth mixed together. This was an artful transition and prepared me for all that came next. Your poem gave me enough foreshadowing so that I was not completely surprised by the drastic mystical twist of shooting energy, but I still felt awe and wonder at the occurrence. The final stanzas of the poem felt like I was falling into a soft bed and saying, “Ah, we made it.” If you haven’t submitted this poem to anyone yet then I hope you don’t mind my recommending a magazine that I think would love to read and maybe publish this poem. http://www.pangaia.com/contributor.htm The editors are great people. They are strict, but honest and fair. They rejected my poems kindly. I think your style fits them better then mine. Thank you for sharing this poem. I thoroughly enjoyed reading and digesting it. Bright Blessings and my your words continue to flow smoothly, Kay-Ren
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