This Poem was Submitted By: Lynda G Smith On Date: 2005-01-11 23:47:03 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Cello Child

  The cello child Sounds the heartstrings That timbre in warm dark notes, A counterpoint to one shining day Written upon white parchment, Precise and poignant. The melody Is bluer than forgotten forget-me-nots, Yet sweeter than pearls of mother’s memories Strung one by one, year by year, To grace the neck of winter. Veiled in translucence By the curtain of time, They await their cue to embrace the night, To shed and share the light  Of quavers scribbled upon a staff Of some simple theme, As from a dream, they draw what might By some be called innocence. It is the performance of a solitary child. No, not in loneliness But a loneness; The music of self-discovery, The lost muse itself in recovery. It can find in the child, the way home, Reading the melody In notes that map the path to symmetry Of soul and self, Those solitary blissful notes From the prelude to acquiescence. Has the child felt the stir of passion Born by the song  Infinite and ageless. And taking to that call Echo all, in clear-eyed vision, The harmony and joy of knowing,  But for the teachers who would mute For the sound of convenience. Who are we, to dampen the notes Of a symphony in its’ infancy?

Copyright © January 2005 Lynda G Smith

Additional Notes:
For Rachel...in thanks for the encouragement...


This Poem was Critiqued By: Latorial D. Faison On Date: 2005-02-07 09:40:32
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Lynda, what a great piece this is. You do so many different things with this, and it all comes together so wonderfully. To begin with you play on the notion of the beauty of music throughout the poem. You play on childhood and innocence, and you also personify the music and give life to it. Ultimately you give voice to the notes, as you illustrate how the music also gives voice to the child. What a great relationship. This is what music does for so many musicians. This poem made me think of my own sons, who are currently fascinated with music and instruments: mainly drums, guitars, keyboards, etc. But I never stopped to think about what all of this could mean to them until reading your poem just now. I love the title, "Cello Child" Not only do the c sounds shine, but it carries such a strong and appropriate force throughout the poem. This title also brought vivid pictures to mind of a child with a cello in hand making her way through the motions and playing along with this poem. I think it's great when a poet can not only tell a story but also invoke images through and with those words. We get so much more than poetry and so much more in depth meaning when this happens. You added some very creative memories and notions throughout that gently pushed the poem along, the pearls, and mother's memories. I wondered if you were this child at that point in the poem. Or, it could be your own child. In addition, this poem carries so much life, so much music in each line. You used perfect alliteration throughout which brings a smooth reading as the lines go by. It was almost jazzy for me, and I read it through several times for the experience (smile). Sounds the heartstrings (I think this line foretells that we will also discuss "life" as well as musical notes in the poem; great start; great tone setter) Written upon white parchment, (the white parchment brings another picture to mind, the actual notes, the sun shining upon this paper; this line brought a light, gentle feeling over me . . . ) Is bluer than forgotten forget-me-nots, (this is such a poetic line, and I adored the alliterative f's here) The music of self-discovery, (another very important line here, which shows that music isn't just about the music, but it's often more personal, it's about the musician connecting with the music to connect with life; self-discovery is a great part of it . . . as with all artists I think) The lost muse itself in recovery. (I can definitely identify with this line; it is why most of us write poetry, to find ourselves, to find out more about the life we live and how we and everyone else fit into the scheme of things, and I can definitely see a connection to this need for musicians in their music) It can find in the child, the way home, (this draws on the meaning that music or art has a purpose, that it is destined to find its way in the lives of particular people, namely this cello child of which you write, and I agree; it's much that way with musicians, artists, writers, etc. We feel that what we do is our destiny. We give life to art forms, and in the meantime, it brings so much more to us) Born by the song (another great line, one of my favorites) But for the teachers who would mute For the sound of convenience. Who are we, to dampen the notes Of a symphony in its’ infancy? THESE LAST FOUR LINES are so important, and I'm glad that it was a part of your poem. How often does this happen in life? A lot. I think about the singer Brandy, and how a teacher in high school told her that she'd never make it because she wasn't pretty enough. I think about myself and all of the people in my life who thought I'd never do half the things I've accomplished in my life, and when I think about these last few lines, I look to my sons . . . the last to lines "who are we, to dampen the notes/of a symphony in it's infancy?" This is why I let my sons bang away on their drums night and day (smile). One of my friends told me when I bought two sets of drums that either I was crazy or I loved my kids very much. Of course, I'm sure that it is the latter. I love them, and I want them to find their way, as you suggest, through whatever artistic form they feel incluined to do so. Lynda, this is such an awesome poem. It's both teaching and telling, and I think you have done a marvelous job rendering a poetic story of music and childhood and self-discovery. Excellent! Thanks for sharing. I truly enjoyed reading it. Latorial www.latorialfaison.com


This Poem was Critiqued By: Claire H. Currier On Date: 2005-01-31 07:20:42
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.76923
This is beautiful poet, nice structure, good word flow, warmth filling one's soul, images and sound as well.......thanks for posting and sharing with us, God Bless, Claire
This Poem was Critiqued By: marilyn terwilleger On Date: 2005-01-28 12:34:55
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.85714
Hi Lynda, This poem is so lovely and I almost did not comment on it for fear of not doing justice to its beauty. This peice is timeless and mimics the profound love we have for our children. Yes children do play on our heartstrings as they grow and mature into adults...if we just listen we can hear the melody of their innocence. I especially like...'it is bluer than forgotten for-get-me-nots..yet sweeter than pearls of mother's memories'...in fact this entire piece seems to be inspired by devine intervention. I have three children and as I read your lines over and over I remember how I felt when each of them was born...they were all miracles to me...at birth and beyond. Each one of them is talented in their own way and unique in their individuality....'but for the sound of convenience. Who are we, to dampen the notes of a symphony in its' infancy? The comparison of child to symphony not yet finsihed is supburb. I had back surgery recently and cannot sit at my computer very long, however I did not want this piece to get away from me before I could tell you how wonderful it is...and I am quite sure it will be high on the winners list this month. Blessings....Marilyn
This Poem was Critiqued By: Tony P Spicuglia On Date: 2005-01-22 11:55:59
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.94737
Lynda, I haven’t had much time to critique this month, but have read your verse probably five or six times, just because it was one that I wanted to speak to. There are the simple things that make life the most complex, and the complex things that wear away life’s simplicity. In the timbre of this piece is a wealth of wide eyed wonder, from perspectives of a child, but also from the reflected perspectives of an adult. Cello Child - It was your title which first warmed me, and time and again, did again. The cello holds a special place for me because my daughter, a violin player, 1st chair after her first year, was prompted to make a choice. The cello player in her orchestra in Jr. High School, had left, and the strings were without one. She volunteered to take up the task, and in short work, became a VA state wide second chair. A great title, for me anyways, and sets me up with the mindset, to meet yours!! The cello child Sounds the heartstrings That timbre in warm dark notes, - I like the comparison of the cello, and instrument with warm, passionate sounds, to the heartstrings of a child. By capturing the sound of the cello, in the character of the child, we come to immediately know something about that child, and like her/him. A counterpoint to one shining day Written upon white parchment, Precise and poignant. – Ah Lynda, you enhance the child with “counterpoint”. Many may not know the import of those words, but they ring the complexities of the emotions and intellect, but also weave the necessity of “mimicry”, that is, of parent to child, and child to living. Excellent!! The melody Is bluer than forgotten forget-me-nots, Yet sweeter than pearls of mother’s memories Strung one by one, year by year, To grace the neck of winter. – In this verse you take us deeper into an introspective, thoughtful child. The “Blue”, “forgetmenots”, “pearls (always the more reserved, yet most elegant of adornment)”, and then you add winter-round the year to the “pearl” of seasons. Returning, there is a “melody” and almost like the old (excuse my use of an overtired comparison) “if a tree falls and nobody hears it….yuck”, but in these lines it is obvious that the melody is heard, with a certain reverence, for it is a living testament. Veiled in translucence By the curtain of time, They await their cue to embrace the night, To shed and share the light Of quavers scribbled upon a staff Of some simple theme, As from a dream, they draw what might By some be called innocence. – You draw us to linger, with you, at the waiting of stars, at the revelations of time, “cued in the embrace of night”. Metaphors of such beauty and reservation, and in the grandeur of eternity, there are the temporal signs, the “theme” that is a dreamlike metaphor to something greater, and the staff, an upright periapt for the introduction of life. One cannot help but partake, to references understood, or references that draw the “dream” from within the reader. It is the performance of a solitary child. No, not in loneliness But a loneness; The music of self-discovery, The lost muse itself in recovery. – The metaphor throughout of the child, but the reality of the child herself, there is the “blue” and the “counterpoint”, becoming evident in the development of the “theme”. The “muse” and the “music” combining in that self-sustaining counterpoint. Excellent lines, “not of loneness, but a Loneness” a solitary way, with the person most able to understand the melody. It can find in the child, the way home, Reading the melody In notes that map the path to symmetry Of soul and self, Those solitary blissful notes From the prelude to acquiescence. – Once again you bring us the “melody weave” of “paths” “symmetry” “solitary blissful notes” and finally, the culmination, “prelude to acquiescence”. There are such power in these images. In a sense, the Metaphor leaves the child, almost a “grown” necessity that without the child cannot have been, but in that child, is given life. Has the child felt the stir of passion Born by the song Infinite and ageless. And taking to that call Echo all, in clear-eyed vision, The harmony and joy of knowing, But for the teachers who would mute For the sound of convenience. Who are we, to dampen the notes Of a symphony in its’ infancy? – I am not sure what spurred this piece, but it is a piece well received. The symphony of a child in progression to adult, of stars and eternity, of melody and the “remelody” of counterpoint, the metaphor of creation within the child and of the child to the world. A splendid piece. Thank you so much for the pleasure of reading this “melody”.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2005-01-21 20:55:42
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Lynda: This poem is almost too beautiful for words. The emotional response it engenders in me is deep. And yet the exquisite, musicality of the work makes me admire and observe it as a work of art -- a few steps back, in awe. As someone who loves string quartets, I recognize the work of a musician-poet. The poet is an artist skilled at portraiture -- but the child subject of the poem can be any child -- and the painting in my head, accompanied by Beethoven's String Quartet in C Sharp Minor, Op.
1, is of a beloved child. The cello child Sounds the heartstrings That timbre in warm dark notes, A counterpoint to one shining day Written upon white parchment, Precise and poignant. How do you do this? It is so visual, auditory, and yet, internal. How do you find the reader's heartstrings. Is it the words "cello child" which evoke the "warm dark notes" or the contrast with "white parchment"? The melody Is bluer than forgotten forget-me-nots, Yet sweeter than pearls of mother’s memories (oh, how sublime this is, like a pieta) Strung one by one, year by year, To grace the neck of winter. (absence -- separation -- mournfulness -- aching) Veiled in translucence By the curtain of time, They await their cue to embrace the night, To shed and share the light Of quavers scribbled upon a staff --(these words create moving bursts of light for me) Of some simple theme, As from a dream, they draw what might By some be called innocence. It is the performance of a solitary child. Here I felt a transitional break, as if the portrait of the child had become internal. This is where the poem 'turns' for me, and becomes transformative. No, not in loneliness But a loneness; The music of self-discovery, The lost muse itself in recovery. (Magnificent simplicity! Your rhymes are transcendent.) It can find in the child, the way home, Reading the melody In notes that map the path to symmetry Of soul and self, Those solitary blissful notes From the prelude to acquiescence. Has the child felt the stir of passion Born by the song Infinite and ageless. I wanted to stop here, and simply bow before the unknowable "infinite and ageless" whereas before I wanted to stop the passage of time. This would be like the closing lines' "dampening the notes." And taking to that call Echo all, in clear-eyed vision, The harmony and joy of knowing, But for the teachers who would mute For the sound of convenience. Who are we, to dampen the notes Of a symphony in (its) infancy? I take caution from these words -- to increase awareness of what might "dampen the notes" of anyone's "symphony in its infancy." Whether critiquers, mothers, grandmothers, or friends we are all, after all, teachers. What a privilege it is to read this refined work, this "call" which I can only answer 'yes' and let it be a 'yes' to other's symphonies. I am all over the map in my response to this poem. I hope I haven't strayed too far from your intent for the work. Brava, and standing ovation! My best always, Joanne
This Poem was Critiqued By: Rachel F. Spinoza On Date: 2005-01-18 09:35:58
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Thank you Lynda – I am honored to be invited into your creative process and it is joy to see your work progress so beautifully. I made a few suggstions but that is all they are. Cello Child [Wonderful title, which promises much and is alliterative] The cello child Sounds the heartstrings That timbre in warm dark notes,[fine phrasing] A counterpoint to one shining day Written upon white parchment, Precise and poignant. Ah, yes, the melody of the heart – how tenderly decribed The melody Is bluer than forgotten forget-me-nots,[wonderful simile and nice irony] [-Yet]sweeter than pearls of mother’s memories Strung one by one, year by year, To grace the neck of winter [this is a great allusion to the growing love one has for a child year after year] Veiled in translucence [yes yes – that is one of my favorite words By the curtain of time, They await their cue to [embrace the night,[ a little ordinary a phrase] To shed and share the light Of quavers scribbled upon a staff [wow] Of some simple theme, [I like the internal rhyme of dream/theme] As from a dream, [Perhaps just - They draw their innocence – to make a cleaner palate for that extraordinary thought] It is the performance of a solitary child. Perhaps here: [In the loneness of the music] of self-discovery,] Sometimes explaining too much stops us in the middle of a thought The lost muse itself in recovery. [neat] [finds the way home in the child], Reading the melody In notes that map the path to symmetry Of soul and self, Those solitary blissful notes From the prelude to acquiescence. Has the child felt the stir of passion Born by the song Infinite and ageless. And taking to that call Echo all, in clear-eyed vision, The harmony and joy of knowing, But for the teachers who would mute For the sound of convenience. Who are we, to dampen the notes Of a symphony in its infancy? [Who are we indeed! Spectacular poem Best always, Rachel
This Poem was Critiqued By: Kelly Denise LaBeff On Date: 2005-01-15 06:06:45
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
I have not critiqued a poem in quite a while, please, bear with me on my quest. First off, I can tell that this verse itself was written with “poignant precision”. Flared with color,-- warm dark shining white,-- you amplified your comparatives with contrasts, each well suited in and of its own accord. Even more so, the personification, --forget-me-nots mother’s pearls--, of the keepsake sentiments you described were noteworthy, tangible examples that added extra luster if not rhythm to the beat of your musical theme. Just the same, the alliteration drawn out in certain lines were used at just the perfect time - keeping time. I especially admired the ebb and flow of “that map the path ” from the rhyming couplet of these lines: “Reading the melody In notes that map the path to symmetry”. How true it is, the harmony and the joy of knowing is infinite and ageless indeed especially when it is that of a child’s of which we speak. Capturing my attention, your summation was all too familiar inasmuch that far too often [mostly and sadly so at school and even sadder - during the hustle and bustle at home] for the sake of sanity, silence from our wee ones is sought. You are right, who are we to quench the burning in their veins for a voice of their own, one of fever desiring to be heard? For they are ours - our children, the light that shines despite the time of day and they are the future, the very essence of our being or ever being! The only suggestion I might offer, which is mild, would be one of preposition and conjunction freedom. Otherwise dear poet, from heartstrings to quavers the echo of your cello child’s symphony was exceptionally well sung. OH! Another thing, I see in your "additional notes" you said ''For Rachel...in thanks for the encouragement''. Yes, I must agree, she is the best, isn't she? You are one lucky apprentice having Rachel in your poetic corner! Kuddos Kelly
This Poem was Critiqued By: Lennard J. McIntosh On Date: 2005-01-13 22:37:19
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Re: Cello Child Lynda Writes: “A counterpoint to one shining day Written upon white parchment, Precise and poignant.” *** COMMENT: I recall that a short time after we met here on TPL that you made a remark to the effect that although you’d had considerable experience in the visual arts, poetry was something new for you. Look at these three lines you’ve written, Lynda. The “p’s” are popping like balloons, and it’s happening naturally. It’s called alliteration, milady, and is the head rhyme, repetition of initial sounds, that is an important part of giving free verse its beauty to the ear. Your brush has become words and you are using them without the slightest hint of strain. Lynda Writes: “Is bluer than forgotten forget-me-nots, Yet sweeter than pearls of mother’s memories … ” *** COMMENT: Oh, I admire your imagery, and look at that alliteration continue to dance off your page. Lynda Writes: “Those solitary blissful notes From the prelude to acquiescence. Has the child felt the stir of passion Born by the song Infinite and ageless.” *** COMMENT: Your varying syllable count is another technique, adding to the acoustic excellence of both free verse and prose. Bravo! It’s very good, Lynda. Len Mc.
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