This Poem was Submitted By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2005-01-25 15:55:49 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Yearnings Like the Lake's

I passed through woods today.    Poems leapt from bent branches;     wisps of fog called  my name,        wandering crows  sashayed Wishful shivers up my spine.    Fir branches silvered with rain     bowed toward break of day.        I reveled in road’s surprise Curves winding through glories of    green, but as an observer      apart from creatures of earth        with limbs and hungers like mine,  Yearnings like the lake’s for her    translucent, fingerling streams.     Clouds dropped  white faces to lap        at likenesses in water.  Tonight, the moon will glimmer    the lake and swoon to songs of     early frogs. Owls in trees will        throb with fervor I long for.

Copyright © January 2005 Joanne M Uppendahl

This Poem was Critiqued By: Kelly Denise LaBeff On Date: 2005-02-07 12:28:25
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.91379
Joanne, This is the prettiest line I beheld within this verse, "Yearnings like the lake’s for her translucent, fingerling streams." That's a powerful provoking picture, if nature truly has a mind - I can only imagine the thoughts that must run through the lake's as its able, stretching in streams for miles on end...yearning to take in all that it passes or touches, sees, can see- wow! Amazingly vast, without boundaries, think of this endlessness! It's awesome, nearly too much to of all, how very clever of you, my Joanne friend, having the insight to imagine among these same lines and then to share such wisdom and beauty with us - unselfishly giving - just like the lake! {Gee!} No, no, you have the fervor that the owls long for! I called it! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Oh yes! I love the notion of early frogs, singing below, thus giving power to the moon above making, affording it a reason to insightful once again, everything a season, everything a reason - that's what I feel like you are bringing to light within this verse! It never fails, you always give a portion of cheer to every verse you quip like here: "Clouds dropped white faces to lap at likenesses in water." You've written so much about clouds this month that I'll never be able to go outside again and look up without thinking about you and all your cute "cloudies" antidotes! Like right now, there's a puddle in my front yard, the next time I gaze out, I'll be looking for a cloud that's looking in the water at its own reflection with childlike wonder on its face, and oh the many faces that clouds take on! I just had a thought, Joanne, I bet it was they, the clouds, who from the puddles blew the whisper of your name into the wisps of fog that sashayed in the woods along side crows wandering through bent and bowing silver fir branches so they could make you revel in surprise as you stood in road dodging the poetry they leapt your way! Did you know the clouds went through all that trouble just for you and they even did it while they were making faces in the water right beside where you stood? They did and they did it for you! BUT, it was you who had the initiative to identify its presence as a shiver on your spine! See! You are the one who's glorious! Loved it, again! But tell me, how will you treat me next month---? chocolates perhaps? lol lol TY for sharing, Kelly

This Poem was Critiqued By: Troy D Skroch On Date: 2005-02-06 02:08:45
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.33333
Joanne, When I saw you depicted as a frog I knew that it was some sort of subconscious cryptic way it was a message to the Poetic Link to try to free you from the frog spirit Redeyestickytongue that's taken hold of your psyche. The manifestation of your desire was brief, but to construe it's meaning in any other way is a risk that I could not take. So, now freed of my janitorial responsibilities and with a new life goal, at least for an hour or so, as that seems to be the limit of my attention span as far as goals are concerned, I set off to determine if this frog spirit was influencing your writing or possibly doing your writing. HEHEHE!!! And kabamo pow here it is. Proof before my very eyes. I passed through woods today. -----------------Redeyestickytongue Poems leapt from bent branches; ------------------Joanne wisps of fog called my name, ------------------Redeyestickytongue wandering crows sashayed ------------------Synchronizing Early in the first line of this stanza we see the frog trying to gain control of your mind. By the time the second line begins Redeye is probably perched on your head content that he's winning the mental navigation. Wishful shivers up my spine. ---------------Joanne (wrestling for mental control) Fir branches silvered with rain ---------------Frog (we see images of moisture) bowed toward break of day. ---------------Joanne (using image of light in response) I reveled in road’s surprise ---------------Both (power struggle) This second stanza is another boxing match and the struggle seems to be intensifying. Curves winding through glories of ---------------Joanne (frogs don't use words like "glories") green, but as an observer ---------------Joanne (Joanne is in control but I see foreshadowing) apart from creatures of earth ---------------Joanne (separating) with limbs and hungers like mine, -------------Joanne (redefining) Here you are clearly throttling Redeye with an ancient form of self exposure posturing currently being researched by the Department of Homeland Security. How clever to use lines personifying our president to fight back against this little green terrorist. Yearnings like the lake’s for her -------------Frog (here it comes big time moisture simile) translucent, fingerling streams. -------------Frog (more moisture, Joanne is in trouble) Clouds dropped white faces to lap -------------Frog (she's on the ropes) at likenesses in water. -------------Frog (ka pow Redeye takes over the frontal lobe) It's obvious that this frog spirit has a few tricks of it's own. Tonight, the moon will glimmer --------------Frog (this is the end of our heroine) the lake and swoon to songs of --------------Frog (Redeyestickytongue is about to howl as frogs do) early frogs. Owls in trees will --------------Joanne (on her feet throws the image of owl) throb with fervor I long for. --------------Joanne (finishes the last line apparently back) Wow, I thought the frog had you, but you remembered to bring out the big guns by using natural enemies of the frog. Bravo. I think if chant these lines before you go to bed and when you wake you'll be fine. "Owl, snake, pesticides make frogs sleep never wake Owl, snake, pesticides make frogs sleep never wake Owl, snake, pesticides make frogs sleep never wake" Remember, before sleep and the first thing in the morning. You have to do this
times, for 6 days, starting on the night of the year's third full moon. When I'm in Canada deep in the heart of the Queens land. I try to wake early. One of the images I retain is that of the reflection of the clouds and tree covered shorelines in the water. The water is so smooth and the reflection is so perfect. It's the illusion of the world looking back at itself. I am reminded of this by your line: "Clouds dropped white faces to lap at likenesses in water." A real quarried, cut and polished gem. I want to see the day continue. Sigh. What a warm slice of life taken, perhaps, from a cool morning stroll followed up with a hot tea, cider or coffee and good chapter of what's worth reading. Well done, great expression and...and then the killer tree frog Redeyestickytongue attacks the window pane with his long poisonous fangs blowing the whole moment. LOL Now that I've satisfactorily destroyed my credibility as a plumber I must to sleep. Best, Troy
This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne Duval Morgan On Date: 2005-02-02 11:09:55
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.96429
Me too, amazing how there are poems everywhere, some night I just dream poetry, all brought on by instances experienced in the day. Walking through woods, with all the natural Flora, fauna, seeing in the animals a poem, the bent three linb awash with moisture, dew sparling like diamonds, peaceful really. One morning years ago we had a late season ice storm, I rode down a road I have traveled every day for years, on this day though after the ice storm every branch, twig, and natural fauna was glistening, sparkling, and it created a memory of how absolutely beautyful our planet earth could be, a special occasion, one to always be treasured. Now that was a special day, but other days your great descriptives apply, and the style of projection puts the reader right there. I love these poem Joanne, I like the solitude of the woods just experiencing what Mother nature creates on a new pallet each and every day. Your poem captures all the nuances, and has a universal appeal to the nature of all of us that appreciate the beauty of this globe called earth. Nice, nice, nice. good writing as usual stands out, and in my book this poem is without peetr. Love, God Bless....Jo Mo
This Poem was Critiqued By: Jane A Day On Date: 2005-01-29 21:05:56
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Dear Joanne, This is lovely. Its what I have come to think of as your sorprano voice, if you know what I mean? I love the look of the lines and the long Ls. I am torn between wanting the poem to have a turn--to move forward and to simply meditate as it does on the one thought. I think I will hope with the mediation but the ending the las time with for leaves me feeling a little undone. I want you to sing one more verse--maybe all these elements recombine in the lake? My thanks as always, Jane
This Poem was Critiqued By: Tony P Spicuglia On Date: 2005-01-29 18:19:55
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.97222
Joanne, this piece, a poem in itself, is a wonderful study of inspiration. When I wrote my last two pieces, I could have used this as the blueprint for achieving inspiration, for it happens much as you write here. Yearnings Like the Lake's – There is a little mystery in this title, for not being a lake, you leave us here wondering “what does a lake yearn for?”. We have our own impressions, but if you were studying a lake, what yearning would you find. This is great opening for the verse. I passed through woods today. Poems leapt from bent branches; wisps of fog called my name, wandering crows sashayed Wishful shivers up my spine. Fir branches silvered with rain bowed toward break of day. I reveled in road’s surprise Your first verse describes perfectly the calling of beauty around, of the natural world begging our fingers to bear witness, and in a natural type manner, “bent branches”, “wisps” of fog, “sashaying cows”. Excellent, I fee I am there with you, and now my fingers itch. I know the excitement of “wishful shivers”, the “silvered rain gloss”, and the excitement of the day, “just glad to be there and be a part”!! Curves winding through glories of green, but as an observer – “Glories of Green” how spectacular a thought, a coronation for life, just because, of nature, just because, because that is the identity. apart from creatures of earth with limbs and hungers like mine, - Here walking the lane, we can feel the indomitable place of humanity in the world, that because of our position and dominance, we must “work”, “meld”, at being a part of the rest of creation. I also have learned, the longer I am alone with my loves, the easier the transition becomes, until, once again, I am a permanent part, till again I leave them. Yearnings like the lake’s for her translucent, fingerling streams. Clouds dropped white faces to lap at likenesses in water. – What a transitional verse, of lakes and tributaries meeting the likeness of clouds and wisps, and vice versa, if you will. The symbiosis of the natural world contains, far and near, the interpretation of a properly gilded human spirit. Tonight, the moon will glimmer the lake and swoon to songs of early frogs. Owls in trees will throb with fervor I long for. Joanne, you have brought this scene to life, to the point that, I not only wish that I could walk it with you, but that I feel that I have. How sentient the alabaster spirit, held up to the natural beauty it revere. Superb vision- thank you for sharing this piece, Joanne.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Turner Lee Williams On Date: 2005-01-28 08:27:05
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.88000
Joanne–WOW!! Where do you get this imagery from? We, your fellow poets, all look of out our windows at some point; we see the rain, go on walks in the woods, and glance skyward for those birds and clouds, but most of us, with the exception of a few (JH & MT-come readily to mind) have yet to get these types of impressions and/or fail to verbalize them in this manner. While you on the other hand, never seem to be at a loss finding colorful, unique, picturesque and emotional descriptors for de- picting the simplest entity in nature. Case in point, this current off- ering with it's repeat of the title (my favorite phrasing); “...Yearnings like the lake's for her translucent, fingerling streams. Clouds dropped white faces to lap at likenesses in water." Furthermore, physical layout of this five stanza quatrain free verse off- ers a pleasing visual to match tone of piece. The indent of lines create a nice serene ebb and flow as eyes follow across and down the page (almost hypnotic for this reader). Your ever use of personification in conjunction with hyperbole has to be some sort of imaginative genuis. I like this!! TLW
This Poem was Critiqued By: Claire H. Currier On Date: 2005-01-26 10:19:15
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.81250
Poet, written straight from your heart, touched perhaps by your nature and the way you can bring us into your little world of wonder.....In the Springtime of the year the world comes back to life after a sleep of sorts and I so love this time of the year best.......when nature plays havoc with temps here in New England there are times when Spring flowers bloom in late December, for they have no clue the worst is yet to come.....they just reach for the warmth of the day they are in at that time... Enjoyed the pace, the word flow, the images projected with the flare of your pen.... I hear the ducks as they let us know flying overhead of our home and landing on the lake the in the open field made by the beavers as they built their long do we have yet to wait for this to come to life......thanks for posting and sharing your love of nature with us....stay warm, God Bless, Claire
This Poem was Critiqued By: Latorial D. Faison On Date: 2005-01-25 22:54:09
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Joanne, this is such a peaceful, calm poem. It's probably therapeutic, and would go really well with some soft sounds of nature. I think I love everything about this poem. Not only does it have a great soft, mellow mood, but the format that you have chosen seems to allow the poem to sway back and forth as you work your way through it. As a reader, I felt the sway as I ready the lines filled with such a natural talent. In stanza one you get us started by setting a beautiful, natural setting, and the alliterative sounds are so attractive to the reader's tongue. You feel exotic just reading the lines. Another thing that you complete really well throughout the poem is description. I have always found it hard to be specific about the physical beauty of nature. But you don't just call a cloud a cloud or a tree a tree. Your trees and clouds are personified. They sway and bow and see pictures of themselves in other facets of nature. I think this is what draws me in to your poetry so much, the fact that you are able to bring a different kind of life (our life) to the objects of nature. They are already living things (because that's how God made them), but you make them human, and we can identify with them through your creative touch. In several of your poems you have the trees and their limbs bowing, and I think that is such a marvelous gesture, that trees would bow. They do it naturally, and every time I see that, of course I'll think of you and your poems. I often see trees hanging with ice and snow or after a heavy rain, but I get a different picture when I read your poems. I see them bowing on a perfectly beautiful day through your words. "Poems leapt from bent braches," I thought this must be how it happens for you because this is the way the words seem to appear in these poems (that nature is such inspiration for you, and to look outside is to write poetry for you Joanne). This is a very solid, telling line in the poem, and I could say it's one that readers would remember you by. Finally, I thought the title was very endearing and interesting. The word "yearning" itself pulled on my thoughts, and made me want to see what this poem was all about. And in the context that the line was used in teh poem, I now see that this picture, as a whole, is nature (in all aspects) "yearning" for something through every tree, stream of water, cloud and drop of water. And ultimately, your own yearning is illustrated in every line of the poem as the objects of nature become you and you give the objects voice . . . and they become human. Thanks for sharing another marvelous poem with natural flair and style Joanne. I enjoyed reading thsi one too. Latorial
This Poem was Critiqued By: arnie s WACHMAN On Date: 2005-01-25 20:06:19
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.76923
Well, you're back in the saddle so to say. You've done it again. Tremendous descriptive passages. I loved the second to last verse...clouds dropped white faces to lap at likenesses in water. Your use of imagery is fantastic. Thanks so much for allowing me to read this.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Paul R Lindenmeyer On Date: 2005-01-25 18:32:49
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.66667
Joanne, as usual, accute observational information turned into views from the heart. Seeing through creation both all their is, and why there "is". Enjoyed the pace, the verbiage and when I walk in my woods{in Spring} I hope to see half of what you report here. "Yearnings like the lake's for her translucent, fingerling streams." I'm calling it a spectacular line! Guess I'm looking forward to springtime. Great work, Peace, Paul
This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2005-01-25 16:39:26
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.78947
Joanne, I just walked with you down the forest path. I know the passion you have for nature. It drips off and from your every word. It's as if nature completes us. Curves winding through glories of green, but as an observer apart from creatures of earth with limbs and hungers like mine, you are apart/but not/just different...... Owls in trees will throb with fervor I long for. You have the what? What do you long for? All my best your way...... Dellena
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