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This Poem was Submitted By: stephen g skipper On Date: 2004-12-21 18:29:22 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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A lovers dream

I'm waiting, leaning back against a drooping willow, its roots and branches are reaching down into the lazy, twisting brook. The stream is washing brown, hump-backed stones and silvered pebbles that glisten wetly. Autmunal sun is casting shades and patterns that chase each other, skittering across the water. A gentle breeze moves colour turned leaves to a rythymn of a natural, whispering melody. Grasses and mosses grow beneath my weary feet and I think of the day when we can be together. Today, tommorrow is but a sacred dream, hand in hand, backs to the river we walk on into our shared eternity.

This Poem was Critiqued By: James Edward Schanne On Date: 2005-01-04 14:42:44
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.14286
I like then dreamy images that this one gives me and also the expression of longing to be united, Thanks for letting me read and comment.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2005-01-02 17:33:26
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.39286
Stephen, You love someone a lot, to write such a lovely poem. It almost sounds like shes gone away/off afar/maybe dead? Today, tommorrow is but a sacred dream, hand in hand, backs to the river we walk on into our shared eternity. Especially when you say 'eternity' I hope not! I can only imagine the pain. Good, loving, nicely depicted visuals,in this poem. If I'm wrong...hooray! Love hurts theres nothing else to say. Dellena

This Poem was Critiqued By: Tony P Spicuglia On Date: 2004-12-29 09:54:12
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Stephen, you already had me reeled in. I know it is cliché, but much of my early “romance” centered around the willow, and nothing speaks to love, like the willow. It was a nice respite, to stop off and read this work. A lovers dream – Setting the table, and a well set table it is!! I'm waiting, leaning back against a drooping willow, - The willow stands alone among trees, for in it’s branches are the tenents of love and lost love. In it’s shade is the coolness of care on a hot day, and the weeping of rains reaching the ground. The willow, laughs and weeps. its roots and branches are reaching down into the lazy, twisting brook. – I can imagine the scene, and wish to sit and write, in the shade, observing the brook, listening to the breeze, and you have taken me there in two lines. Scintillating. The stream is washing brown, hump-backed stones and silvered pebbles that glisten wetly. – I particularly liked this line. The thought of the stream “washing” has numerous meanings, that of erasing old love with new, that of cleansing the soul, and also wetting parched lips. Your use of “hump-backed” stones is original, and I will try not to steal it in the future, really a great analogy, and of course, the hump back whales dodge in and out of the water, “glistening”. Normally I would say, “wetly” is a redundant term, but here I think it has providence, that the “refreshing” nature of the moment is dynamic. Autmunal (Autumnal) sun is casting shades and patterns that chase each other, skittering across the water. – You, for the first time place us in a time. I wonder if your ensuing lines of “shades and patterns chasing each other also has the import of the autumnal equinox chasing the winter solstice, (just a thought). your description is priceless, of “skittering” adding actual life to the sprites that catch the eye, and the shades and patterns that make one smile. Excellent imagery!! A gentle breeze moves colour (color) turned leaves – I particularly like this line, for the breeze feeds into patterns much like your previous stanza. (Suggestion: I might rewrite something like this, “a gentle breeze moves the multi-colored leaves”. The use of “turned” is sort of unwieldy and since you placed us in Autumn already, really unnecessary). to a rythymn (rhythm) of a natural, whispering melody. – such a brilliant line. “a natural, whispering melody”. The leaves of the willow singing, and the brilliance of the moment is that if you are not “prepared” for hearing, the melody will escape you. Excellent imagery again. Grasses and mosses grow beneath my weary feet – There is something about this line that stands out. You use the term “weary” for the feet, which indicates that the soul resting by the brook truly is the “erasing old love with new, that of cleansing the soul, and also wetting parched lips” and reinforces your earlier imagery. Also, it is to be noted that moss, (although it will grow quickly) must have a certain “maintained” climate for growth, so the weariness is again reinforced as well. and I think of the day when we can be together. – Here you present your case, why the “weary”, why the “moss’, why the “internal autumnal”, all the reasons why visiting that willow, by that brook is so important. Ultimately, you have shown us the love, and that love is enduring beyond the moment. Today, tommorrow (Tomorrow) is but a sacred dream, hand in hand, backs to the river we walk on into our shared eternity. – Stephen, you brought me to my favorite scenes, for my favorite reasons, and shared my favorite dreams. This is an excellent piece. A little fine tuning and it might be a perfect piece. I know, for me personally, it was a perfect piece of imagery.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne Duval Morgan On Date: 2004-12-28 13:07:39
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Beautiful lyrics Stephen, it reads like a song, the melody is there, all one has to do is feel the words, the setting, beautiful sensations, the lover speaking, the lazy days of Autumn, where color abounds, and the scenic fell yourmwords speak. Mellow and soothing, and glistening brook with the autumn sun reflecting. I can please myself there, and the whole poemhas a rhytmn that sinds to this reader. Wonderful submission and a please to read considering the upheaval we are living in, almost feel myself back in my teens, alone and just thinking while waiting, waiting for that beautiful feeling of a union...Grat. Good luck.....Jo Morgan

This Poem was Critiqued By: marilyn terwilleger On Date: 2004-12-23 12:21:00
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.88235
Hi Steve, I am so glad to see you writing again and I can assure you that every time you pen a poem your healing will be enhanced. When my husband passed away I wrote reams of poems..it seemed as though I was driven to put my thoughts on paper and I was amazed at the cathartic effect I received. I love this poem...it speaks of the beauty in autumn and I am especially fond of nature poems. But even more than that you combine it with your loss of Paula which gives it a soft but sorrowful tone. The imagery you have used is just wonderful as I was able to put myself against the drooping willow with you. ...'the stream is washing brown-humped back stones and slivered pebbles that glisten wetly.' I have seen this so many times...beautiful image....'a gentle breeze moves colour turned leaves to the rhythmn a natural whispering melody'...there is actually music in the trees...we just need to stop and listen very carefully...it is there. In the 5th stanza you let this reader know that you are still grieving but at the same time you are not depressed or in a black mood...you give the reader a ray of hope that in time all will be fine...the last stanza easily brings a lump to my throat....'hand in hand backs to the river'...this is sad because you lost her and are still alone but your hold a glistening hope that one day you can share eternity together. Very well done...I will remember it for a long time. Peace...Marilyn

This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2004-12-22 12:17:09
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
My God it's beautiful, Stephen. I was reading to comment later, but I'm not going to wait for later. This is exquisite! Your poetic growth is clear. One can feel deep poignancy of mourning for Paula particularly at this time. I'm so glad you have graced us with another of your poems. You have a unique voice that goes straight to the heart. This polished work, rich with imagery, asks nothing of the reader but the willingness to 'go there' - and be the richer for doing so. More specifics: I'm waiting, leaning back against a drooping willow, its roots and branches are reaching down into the lazy, twisting brook. You place the reader within a beautiful scene in nature. The willow (the weeping willow) is "drooping" and you show how both the roots and the branches reach down, as if reaching toward the earth to the beloved. The "lazy, twisting brook" seems unaware that anything untoward has happened - perhaps indifferent, perhaps a symbol of what people often say to comfort us: "life goes on" -- but this is an unsatisfying reassurance. We, like the "drooping willow" retain our form but feel that we are forever changed by grief. And in the next few lines, you show us other imagery which intensifies this theme: The stream is washing brown, hump-backed stones and silvered pebbles that glisten wetly. I particularly love "hump-backed" stones and the way you've enjambed that line. One thinks immediately of humpback whales. The image of the stones in this posture is that they, too, like the willows, are weeping. They are hunched over, sobbing on the silver petals who glisten with their tears. You've used sound expertly here -- with the plosives in "hump-backed/pebbles" and the nasal 'n' sounds in "brown/stones/glisten" telegraph a bone-deep yearning. (Autumnal) sun is casting shades and patterns that chase each other, skittering across the water. The assonance in "autumnal sun" and "shades/chase" and "casting/patterns" is brilliantly effective poetry-crafting, in this reader's opinion. Even the sun's image contributes to the mixture of beauty and melancholy. It is almost as if the sun is playful, as are the "shades and patterns" -- much like our lives, filled with moments of connection -- but seemingly elusive. Why do we love so much, the poem seems to ask, when nothing remains, not even life as we knew it. "shades" also has a connotation for me of 'ghosts' or 'spirits'. A gentle breeze moves colour turned leaves to a (rhythm) of a natural, whispering melody. Yet the surrounds, the movements of nature, are gentle. Though the leaves are dying, they move gracefully, as if to say that their dying is really part of a "natural" event, even a lyrical song, if we have ears to hear it. Grasses and mosses grow beneath my weary feet and I think of the day when we can be together. The speaker seems to be immobile, as "grasses and mosses" grow beneath his "weary feet." Every word in this poem, every phrase, is well-turned and serves to enhance the overall effect of the work. I love the way you've used the sibilant sounds to imply gentleness: "whispering/grasses/mosses" for example. The speaker's constant thought is of being reunited with the loved one. Things continue on as before -- the seasons change, the grass grows, but the speaker is rooted in his yearning to be with the beloved once more. Today, (tomorrow) is but a sacred dream, -- WONDERFUL! hand in hand, backs to the river we walk on into our shared eternity. "backs to the river" -- This is sublime. The two, reunited, walking "hand in hand" away from the river of time into a "shared eternity." Stephen I can't recall when a poem has moved me more than this. It is everything a poem should be, in my estimation. My thoughts are with you and may your hope and love sustain you until that time when you see her once more, and take her hand. Bravo! My best always, Joanne

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