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This Poem was Submitted By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2005-03-14 18:34:37 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Especially in spring

Convince me that the flung silk thread glistening in sun swift’s trill and chickadee’s whistle squirrel’s leap from yet-bare branch to branch sun’s warmth on my winter face sweet smell of burgeoning earth cool-soft wafts of air bee brushing past my hair with slightest touch doesn’t mean that I am loved.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Tony P Spicuglia On Date: 2005-04-01 23:37:41
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.79310
Joanne, I begin this with a little personal dichotomy. I do love the approach of spring, but autumn and winter are my favorites. So of all the spring springs and spring love, and blossoms capturing me, and times germinating around me, I always look forward, while basking in the sun, waiting for fall to come again, and let me relish the world. Especially in spring – I like this title, for me it’d be “especially in fall”, or “especially in winter”, but you say it all in a concise way, this world holds its treasure, for whoever wishes to open their eyes and absorb the gift. Convince me – The gauntlet is thrown down!! It is not a one that I would take up, for this world amazes me, and I will be saddened, (no matter whatever lies beyond) to close my eyes for the last time and leave it. that the flung silk thread glistening in sun – there is a metamorphosis that comes with spring, and those things most at allowance, are the ones that first catch the eye. When they do, you smile and nod your head, knowing, the next evolution is upon us. There is the moment “glistening in the sun”, and I find it exhilarating. swift’s trill and chickadee’s whistle – I don’t think I could contrast two birds more and still maintain a theme, the twitter of the swift, and the almost guffaw of the chickadee. To choose these two birds to make your point makes it like none other. It says, it doesn’t matter what preference you need to convince you, here are choices that must, somehow endear you. squirrel’s leap from yet-bare branch to branch – Joanne, you know it has been so long since I have seen anything but ground squirrels. In Portsmouth VA, I used to always watch the tree squirrels, but here in CA ... well, you have made me wish again for them. The scene, set by the coming of spring, where the branches are bare, and I’ll bet, the buds are visible for one who cares about the compliance of nature. sun’s warmth on my winter face – I guess winter weighs on one who wishes to see the rebirth. I do enjoy the transitions, and while sometimes turn my face to the sun just for a moment to become, I’d say alive. It is like in the dead of winter, I like to go (sans robe) out onto the balcony and feel the cold remind me of life. sweet smell of burgeoning earth – I could not have said it better, and I think it odd that you share this in this poem. The other piece I wrote speaks of the ground and clay. There is something so sensual about the first real smell of the warming earth; it reminds me of all creation, formed from the base elements of the universe that is how the earth is to the earth. cool-soft wafts of air bee brushing past my hair with slightest touch – I was outside today, next to the seashore, and the wind was blowing, and we are have our yearly visit by millions of monarchs and other butterflies- and the air is so filled with life that I feel a bit “guilty” driving along the coast. The fresh air, with warmth reaching inland is an invigorating change from the winter’s freshness. I just sort of turn into it and breath deeply. doesn’t mean that I am loved. – Joanne, I am not sure of love, (at least on a personal basis), and I am sure you are loved by the poets here, but the autonomy “somebody” has fashioned for us to be a part is far beyond the simple “necessities”, there is the “horn of plenty” when one looks to the beauty of this world. I agree, try and convince me otherwise. A beautiful poem, and I concur wholeheartedly!!

This Poem was Critiqued By: Elaine Marie Phalen On Date: 2005-03-30 09:22:14
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
I've responded to this one elsewhere, as you know, but it's irresistible. The softness of your diction, the engaging imagery of interconnectedness, the final celebratory line - yes!! We are loved, indeed, but not necessarily by something with tangible form or even understandable emotions. This is the same affection that is given to spiders, chickadees, fir brances and plumes of morning mist. The "flung silk thread" anchors the spider. It's also like the soul's own exploratory tentacle, the silver cord which joins spirit to body and can sometimes be loosed to help us in our voyages. It appears fragile but can withstand any assault. We're inextricably joined to our higher selves and to God. The birds trill and whistle because they're grateful for life, and want to convey this appreciation. They may not know whether or not the "right ears" will hear their song but it's the act that matters, not the receipt. They would sing for no audience at all, reveling in their own gifts (rather like writing a poem and then choosing to keep it private rather than immediately posting it). They never question the quality of their offering; the world becomes their personal shower (no curtain needed!). The squirrel's leap parallels the spider's own confident thread-toss. Neither has any doubt that it will find a secure hold across the empty divide. The implications for us are fairly obvious (and uplifting). I believe the spring has been created especially to enhance our spiritual awareness, and make us new. Winter is the mortal reminder but spring shows us that we are, in truth, deathless under the light. cool-soft wafts of air bee brushing past my hair with slightest touch Here's a sonic wonderland. All those f/s/sh consonants!! Lips and tongue hiss and blow gently, quieter than the breeze. The bee's hair-touch suggests an invisible hand - the ghost of the Creator, perhaps, or a communication from a departed one - and perhaps there's truth in the concept that we are all a part of everything, drawn from it and returning to it. You and I are sun-fire and carbon, rainwater and the old bones of the earth. When we're touched by that larger arrangement, we can, in turn, touch it. The bee itself is an ancient symbol of personal character that serves others, and seeks to become aware of its own inner divinity. It is selfless, the ultimate example of altruism. It is creative, a tiny Muse in stripes, bearing its gift of pollen and wisdom. I've found the most wonderful webpage about "bee symbolism"!! (I love bees). I really think you'd enjoy it: http://www.polarissite.net/page26.html So if you are loved - as evidenced by all the wonders around you - then you are also love, given freely to that which loves you. It's a mutual process. Giver is also receiver and vice versa, on and on. If I can return after I am dead, I would be happy just to lightly brush the hair of my cherished friends and family. And they would ask, "Was that only the wind?" but feel rather foolish for having wondered. When I was young, my grandmother used to rub my scalp and hair; my mother later took on that same task. It comforted me and relaxed me (I was quite high-strung). Until only a few years ago, Mom still gave me head-massages when I felt in need! (I tried to return the favor but wasn't as good at it, nor as enduring). I would need no surer sign of their presence than to sense a quiet hand stroking my hair. Such a caress, for me, is the embodiment of unselfish adoration. Anyway, I'm rambling so I'd best stop and submit this. What a wonderful poem ... what a treat to be able to read and respond to it twice!!! May the wind be at your back. Brenda

This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2005-03-24 15:44:50
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.23077
Joanne, Of course your loved. Everything is for us as we are to be for them. In this pie of love, all benefit the others in oneness! Realizing this, as you do is HUGH. burgeoning earth was good! I think the bee brush could be wayyyyyyyy better, don't you? really better tied into the ending! The poems of course is wonderfull.. Hit me in the head if I'm too mouthy. Hugs, Dellena

This Poem was Critiqued By: Thomas Edward Wright On Date: 2005-03-20 10:56:02
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
I should try, but I shan't... This is the vacuum into which we've all been sucked, The dust that we all breathe, That covers our eyes, That clogs our noses, That fills our hours. That drives our pens. Isms. The idea that it means anything. We're living that lie every day. And from that we have Theisms. And from the Theism the -ists. And the a-ists. And thus this. Dys-Carnally, t.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Troy D Skroch On Date: 2005-03-15 08:49:09
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Joanne, After reading this poem I broke into a big smile of being happy for you!!! Amazing. You have such a wonderful voice when you sing clearly. And see how loved you are!! I don't know what else to say other than this poem feels so good=)=) Troy

This Poem was Critiqued By: Claire H. Currier On Date: 2005-03-15 07:53:51
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.00000
You and I are so loved with just the early morning sun that wakes us from a nights rest, the sound of the morning birds as they raise their voices to the heavens, the sound of water dripping off the roof top from last few days heavy snowfall.......the water running down the road announcing room to roam and flowers to bloom for Spring is on the way...... What a refreshing piece to find this morning, really perked me up and indeed I felt so loved with each image I saw that you created.....went outside to see if I could not only see but feel the love that you have surrouonded us with, indeed a perfect creation..... As you can see the morning birds have begun to sing loud and clear, they return from the southern parts of our land and know where they were last cared and loved so they in too return the same....... The sweet smell of the land as it once more begins to burst forth with new life, those rotting leaves that have been covered most of the winter under heavy wet snow, well they do leave much to be desired....... I have not seen any bee's as of yet and to be honest my friend I do not look for many for they frighten me with their sting.......last year though they did build the biggtest nest on the limb over the back deck.....its a wonder no one got bit...... So enjoyed this read, perfect in every way.....structure, word flow, images, feelings of more then love too.....a feeling of belonging with the universe we live in.....thank you for posting and sharing with us.....God Bless, Claire

This Poem was Critiqued By: Nancy Ann Hemsworth On Date: 2005-03-15 06:37:28
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.45000
What a absolutely wonderful way to start my day..with such a breath of fresh spring air, and oh yes!! Love , much love from our creater. I love the questioning way you have written this thought provoking little poem. I love short works that have punch and this one has such a soft but powerful one. Very female in effect, I don't kown why I say that but this is one of the feelings I get from your words..and that is a compliment , ahhh, just realized why..(Mother Earth) there, humm, thank goodness I thought if that, would have bugged me all day..(0: I really like your use of short stanzas to itemize your points in the piece."swift’s trill and chickadee’s whistle" love the sound of this phrase, just hisses off the tongue! This appeals so much to the senses and the rejoicing of coming Spring and the wonders of our Earth. One can feel, smell and hear and see so clearly your ideas and it is such a lovely little scene. We have snow still! uck! and this is a treat! take care Joanne, ...Nancy

This Poem was Critiqued By: Turner Lee Williams On Date: 2005-03-14 23:59:36
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.50000
Joanne–In my opinion, this simplistic/enjambing/run-on verbiage belies it’s understated beauty and subtle piousness. My thoughts quickly went to a Haiku; Endowments man’s exquisite gifts from a loving creator: plants and animals Enough said! Only a few scribes would/could state the “so obvious,” this poetically and enthrallingly. You've painted vivid imagery with "Especially in spring" and aptly given the credit where due. TLW

This Poem was Critiqued By: arnie s WACHMAN On Date: 2005-03-14 20:03:31
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 8.83333
I don't know.Are you? Redundant question? I think you're taking more than a "squirrel's leap" here. Man...they don't even know you exist...but hey, I had the same things happening to me today, especially when the fire ants came crawling. Yecccch! Now that ain't love! Especially in fall? in winter? what then? I liked the layout on the squirrel's leap. Was it of the flying variety? So, who loves ya? Huh? Quetsy poem nicely had me goin'.

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