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This Poem was Submitted By: Mell W. Morris On Date: 2005-10-23 13:02:19 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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The Wall

Her friends know how to mend her heart in ruins, know how to save it. Advice often arrives like a brown paper-wrapped package filled with sawdust. She's not a languish-in anguish type but the scent of him made her pure verb. Squared the circle. Music her surcease, her sole release. Lines define her ramparts falling, the wall kept in place friable, fracting in shards and traces. Go on, she will. The daze of healing. Her scar will turn to proud flesh, a reminder of love spurned and her well-earned badge of courage.

Additional Notes:
For EMW. Revision. Thanks to Rick (Ramblin' Man) Barnes.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Thomas Edward Wright On Date: 2005-11-06 17:11:46
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.05263
the scent of him made her pure verb. this is the definition of poetry. t. hugs:)

This Poem was Critiqued By: Jennifer j Hill On Date: 2005-10-27 14:07:36
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Hi Mell, Well, I certainly couldn't find this one on my list, but that won't stop me this time. I find this read quite enjoyable and especially Mellodious! ;-) Imagine that comming from you. Doesn't surprise me one bit! The title did not let on just how palpable the descriptions are. "Her friends know how to mend her heart in ruins, know how to save it. Advice often arrives like a brown paper-wrapped package filled with sawdust." I don't know one person who won't be able to relate to this! Our friends always seem to offer advice that makes you think yeah, hindsight is 20/20. That is a given, but the sounds you start off with draw me into the rhythm within----friends/mend and know/how(repetition adds to the rhythm). I can't think of a more appropriate analogy for what this kind of advise feels like. None that would be printable or more apt to make you go "wow", anyway. "She's not a languish-in anguish type but the scent of him made her pure verb. Squared the circle." Nice rhyme and very fresh verbiage. When somone has this kind of effect on you. It's especially hard to let it go. You make the reader understand perfectly where this person is coming from. He made her giddy and changed her life basicly. I like the way YOU put it. "Music her surcease, her sole release. Lines define her ramparts falling, the wall kept in place friable, fracting in shards and traces." by now there is no doubt in the readers mind, This is a signature Mell Morris poem. The unique way you use rhyme, assonance and just language in general is like wielding magic. You put a spell on us. This stanza is beautiful, brilliant like trees in the fall. The imagry of this stanza is vivid and stunning and full of action. The music is superb. "Go on, she will. The daze of healing. Her scar will turn to proud flesh, a reminder of love spurned and her well-earned badge of courage." An apt desciption of what we all do when the rug gets pulled out from under us. Very wonderfully melodic ending. I really enjoyed this one , Mell. Thanks for sharing it with us. BLessings, Jennifer

This Poem was Critiqued By: Turner Lee Williams On Date: 2005-10-25 16:41:00
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Mell–I see this as a metaphoric lamented bio/self-portrait more than a “persona poem.” IMO, too many attitudes, attributes, and parallels with scribe (addressed by my limited knowledge) to dis- suade me/reader. “The Wall” (front/barrier) erected after the tragic loss of loved one and the good intentioned but ill-con- ceived recommendations for allaying grief (first stanza). Pro- tagonist indicates some stoicism, but also how much she doted on loved one/light of her life (2nd stanza); “She's not a languish-in anguish type but the scent of him made her pure verb. Squared the circle.” The 3rd stanza refers to mean(s) of solace, and, also the gradual crumbling/dissipating of “barrier” (writing/ ‘lines’ serving as a measuring stick; cathartic respite); “Music her surcease, her sole release. Lines define her ramparts falling, the wall kept in place friable, *fracturing* in shards and traces.” Of course, there was never any doubt that protagonist would persevere. The last stanza is a great coda (smile) for this poster of an assured “SURVIVAL” and the epitome of resiliency; “Go on, she will. The daze of healing. Her scar will turn to proud flesh, a reminder of love spurned and her well-earned badge of courage.” I must mention the poetics, specifically, the fresh rimes (friends/mend; languish/anguish; surcease/release; lines/define; spurned/earned). Thanks for sharing (under guise) this candor (or I could be off in left field-of which I’m sure you’ll let me know-smile). TLW

This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2005-10-24 10:48:41
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
MellO: This poem gives me a sense of déjà-vu, as if I have already read it. It may be a re-post, revision, or I am, once again, imagining things! In any case, it is always like winning the lottery for me when I find a poem of yours newly posted. The title is visually like a ‘wall’ as it begins with ‘the’ and ends with ‘wall’ leaving nothing else to look at but itself. And then you begin the poem with a portrait of the heroine of this poem as shown by her support from well-meaning friends. First the statement that her friends have the knowledge of “how to mend her heart in ruins” and “how to save it.” This seems an impossible task. The irony appears in advice, often arriving “like a brown paper-wrapped package filled with sawdust.” The care and warmth suggested by the brown paper package is familiar, but the contents leave the recipient empty. Sawdust is an insubstantial material, a by product of the lumber industry, or in times past, of sawing trees by hand. Once living tissue of a plant, transformed into an organic material that can be used for composting. Mostly air, if analyzed by volume. So is the advice from friends. A product of their own experiences and lives, but no longer viable, except as substance in which other things can grow or rest. Sounds as always are like music in your poetry. “friends/mend” and “advice/arrives” for example, treat us to the assonance and consonance of a well-crafted poem. The plentitude of ‘p’ with its little pops in “paper-wrapped/package” suggest a trace of humor along with irony, and nothing of self-pity in this piece. I wonder if the nicely-wrapped packages, though the contents are meaningless, at least communicate to her that her friends love her but are unable to give what would truly “mend her heart in ruins”? This next stanza is most powerful. It speaks to the effects of a man on a woman, on the lingering response to sensory cues that once sparked a fire between our protagonist and her lover. “pure verb” says so much with so little. Readers can supply their own verbs. BYOV. Certain cues, such as scent or the timber of voice can send us into reverie, or anguish. Best line, “Squared the circle.” The circle is the ultimate feminine symbol. It signifies completeness, wholeness and the never-ending cycles of life. Breasts and wombs. That it becomes square hints at the four elements of earth, fire, water and air, the four directions, the four seasons. The energy of changing from one thing to another that was not part of the original design is suggested her. I think of the analogy of a square peg in a round hole. There is a sexual connotation here. Maybe I spent too much time with Freud in college. Or maybe it's just me. ;) Music her surcease, her sole (I hear this as ‘soul’) release. Lines define her ramparts falling, the wall kept in place friable, fracting I know someone like this. Music is her everything. It is her only outlet for passion which must find an outlet, a channel, a vent, or damage its container. L3 is gorgeous enough to weep over. This is pure jazz – it is Winton Marsalis, or Coltrane. I can allow myself to feel the tiny particles, experience the dissemination of the fractal equation into tinier and tinier parts until they are molecules, drifting, little solar systems, whirling “in shards and traces.” Go on, she will. The daze of healing. Her scar will turn to proud flesh, a reminder of love spurned and her well-earned badge of courage. The woman in this poem exemplifies grit. I know someone like her. Maybe still in the “daze of healing.” I cannot pass by the wonderful internal rhyme of “spurned/earned”, cannot ignore the dropped final line “of courage.” Several words jump out at me as my eyes pass over this poem once more - “wall/will/well” suggesting with their yielding consonants that though there was/is a ‘wall’ that the heroine of this poem will yield to the call of her life force; “go on” as you show us. “She will.” Strong statement of individual determination and bravery. Your poem reminds me that we never see the tenacity, the steel will, the perseverance that it takes for many among us just to put one foot in front of the other some days. You let us see it in this woman, who finds surcease in her music, comfort in the rhythm of her life. She’s a role model, if we can recognize her. We are lucky if we can because “she’s not a languish- in anguish type.” You share her portrait with us. I love this poem and its author. Let some cry ‘favoritism’ – my reply, “Yes, and your point is?” Despite the sadness in the poem, this is not an unhappy reading. It is rich with language, euphony, Mell W. Morris turns of phrase, and beauty of soul. Like a gnarled tree, this isn’t wispy or insubstantial but points the reader to inner strength. We each have to find it for ourselves. But it helps to have pointers along the way. Sustained applause. Good on ya, mate! A year’s supply of linen paper, fountain pens with scented ink, and a handsome scribe to take your dictation. Brava! Never-ending love, Joanne

This Poem was Critiqued By: Lora Silvey On Date: 2005-10-23 21:57:42
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.97059
Mell, This is such a well constructed in depth write that it is so beyond what mere words can express. The Wall {apt title} Her friends know how to mend her heart in ruins, know how to save it. Advice often arrives like a brown paper-wrapped package filled with sawdust. [yes, well meaning advice is almost like shouting at the wind, some genuinely care will others, well, it’s just their way for lack of knowing what to say, one truly never knows how another feels unless they can walk in their moccasins] She's not a languish-in anguish type but the scent of him made her pure verb. Squared the circle. [strange how emotions and actions of others can effect one, how it can make one behave completely contrary to what is their nature, even if we know it is happening we still remain powerless] Music her surcease, her sole release. Lines define her ramparts falling, the wall kept in place friable, fracting [the façade slips and the only release is in the music, the very heart of her, the one thing that doesn’t betray or abandon her, and she holds on tenuously, albeit only she knows of the chinks in her armor, ever eroding, and in silence crumbly resolve, no one hears or sees, and she can not/will not let the façade fall, it isnot in her nature] in shards and traces. Go on, she will. The daze of healing. Her scar will turn to proud flesh, a reminder of love spurned and her well-earned badge of courage. [when all is said and done she will still be there, only she will know that the wound is not healed, it remains raw but she will not show this and she will wear her badge of courage for she has braved the flames, tried by life’s fire, and only she knows how much of her soul has been purged. All who have known her will be at a great loss when she is no more] You should have warned that I would need tissue’s handy. I raged, I cried and then I re-read, perhaps it is true, the purest of spirits such as yours will never finish the work they are set about doing, but you do so enrich our lives with your words and with the wisdom you impart. Thank you so much for sharing this intimate poignant poem. Warmest, Lora

This Poem was Critiqued By: Rick Barnes On Date: 2005-10-23 18:55:21
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Mell My Dear, Your vision and your revision are remarkable. I am honored to be mentioned on the same page as this work. Rick

This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2005-10-23 15:54:16
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.83333
Mell, Advice often arrives like a brown paper-wrapped package filled with sawdust. [Surprisingly we think others must be wiser than ourselves. And they of are not. Not having walked in your shoes, they no almost nothing. Every single thing adds and detracts from the picture making up the unknowable. The wonderful thing about advice is; that making the effort to help another is pure gold. It shows concern and caring.] Go on, she will. The daze of healing. Her scar will turn to proud flesh, a reminder of love spurned and her well-earned badge of courage. [I believe loving someone doesn't really change/but as we mature our needs change. What was right before was really not. It doesn't really have to do personally with the one left behind. It has to do with having similiar goals, similiar Gods, similiar backgrounds, similiar intelligence. So even though love of each other will always exist but that doesn't mean to be married. It's so difficult to find even compatible friendships.] I love your poem,please excuse the brown bag advice. I'm sawdust for sure..... hugs my dear dellena

This Poem was Critiqued By: arnie s WACHMAN On Date: 2005-10-23 15:46:16
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.94737
Humpty Dumpty? Pink Floyd? An unfinished symphony? Haven't got a clue to be honest with you. One interesting line..."but the scent of him made her pure verb..." LIke that's far out...way far out for this mind...and I better quit now and give it the KISS methodology for teatment. Rock on~~

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