This Poem was Submitted By: marilyn terwilleger On Date: 2007-07-19 14:23:30 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Embracing Glory

She felt tethered to a life of scorn like trees rooted in deepest sod. Seeds of misdeeds planted but not re-born in greenest vales now too down-trod.     She knew the ague of her morrow’s toll, searched a vestige to outlast. Winds of sin echoed a vacant soul as she swept dry bark from her past. The walk from her tattered life was steep, tired paths filled with mud and silt. Weary footsteps spill, then in silence creep, like gray shadows that fade and wilt. With grace she prayed all sins to confess, dusted ashes to purify death and wore her rue like a sullied dress, embraced glory with her last breath.         

Copyright © July 2007 marilyn terwilleger

This Poem was Critiqued By: Tony P Spicuglia On Date: 2007-08-07 21:17:41
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
The empathy of this piece, of she who travailed regardless of the difficulty is palpable. ‘Rooted in”, “a vestige”, “filled with” all moment that are absolute in a metaphor filled with less than absolute. We find ourselves rooting. How could we not? To the last breath? Did we not reach it with her? I can’t speak to the colloquial value of the piece, I can speak to the story and story teller. Mostly, in the reading; one regards that with a bit of luck; we might be there too.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Thomas H. Smihula On Date: 2007-08-07 10:17:18
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.84615
Marilyn, As always a well written poem. You have expressed the feeling of forgiveness and the embrace of glory within this piece. The format is in an older fashion and may not be understood by all since they might be caught trying to understand the text and presentation. Just a thought. I do like this type of poetry for I am a Poe fan and his was in a similar fashion depending on the piece written. Just some thoughts. Thanks for sharing. Thomas
This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2007-08-04 01:28:43
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.86667
Marilyn, Wanted to tell you I thought this pretty good.... It doesn't grab me as your others but it shows a woman being honest with no shame. An adult realizing they are quite human and acceptance of their past/good-bad! I think this is wonderful in that respect. I LIKE embracing the glory of her life and being proud of the accomplishment of 'living' it. Well done. Dellena
This Poem was Critiqued By: Nancy Ann Hemsworth On Date: 2007-08-01 20:51:51
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.89474
love the structure of this poem and the way it delivers when read outloud. It has that classical feel to it and one of my favorite type of poems. I enjoy the abab rhyme pattern. so much depression within these lines, feeling of hopefullness and dispair as well. What was she seeking, glory land her goal, but felt no entrance pass because of sins committed..this is so sad that some live like this not only in the period I feel you are portraying but in this the modern day as well. We are all of stardust, beautiful and pour and loved, as the Earth is loved by whome ever is the higher power. You surely did set the mood for this piece and I pictured this taking place on the moores of long ago for some reason. In my mind you last verse is the strongest and finishes this up perfectly, leaving the reader to just sit and sigh from the weight of it all.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Debbie Spicer On Date: 2007-07-30 10:43:32
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Dear Marilyn, Hi there, What a poem. Of course your vocabulary is much larger than mine, so I had to look up a few words to see exactly what they meant. This entire piece rhymes to peaceably and yet the essence is so very sad. This “person” looked back at their life, felt so restricted and felt her life was of contempt. The tree rooted in the deepest sod was so very well written to describe her true feelings. She saw her life as horrible full of “dry bark’, which to me means nothing felt go in all she did, even if it wasn’t her fault. She describes her life as horrid and felt she was in the abyss. The stanza The walk from her tattered life was steep, tired paths filled with mud and silt. Weary footsteps spill, then in silence creep, like gray shadows that fade and wilt.’ Reads as if something I could have thought of before my own healing and the way you express it is unbelievable. The wording is speaking out loud to us, but to her, it is her life. At the end, as I see it, she wants all the rubbish to be gone, for she is tired and distraught over her life. She wants to leave with a pure soul and honor, something she had never experienced. And she did. Very, very well done and I think this is a poem I will never forget. Miss you and as I wander in and out, I certainly want to be back in more and more. With love, Debbie
This Poem was Critiqued By: Lora Silvey On Date: 2007-07-26 12:54:41
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Marilyn, I'm not quite sure what to say. I've read this several times and it has such a deep impact on my emotions that it has left me without words to describe the feelings it brings forth. I do feel that your closing redeems her life with yet a bit of hope/compassion as she "wore her rue like a sullied drss, embraced glory with her last breath" yes; embraced her glory with last breath tells that she was never truly beaten down for in her heart she still held fast to her own worth/pride/sense of morality...simply a work from an accomplished pen. Best always, Lora
This Poem was Critiqued By: Rachel F. Spinoza On Date: 2007-07-25 11:32:34
Critiquer Rating During Critique: Unknown
Hi, Marilyn - good to see your work again Glorious title for a lovely feast of a poem. some suggestions: She felt tethered to a life of scorn like trees rooted in deepest sod. Seeds of misdeeds planted but not re-born in greenest vales now too down-trod. ["trod" seems like a word placed for the sake of rhyme as the usual usage would be "trodden" She knew the ague of her morrow’s[this is archaic] toll, searched a vestige to outlast. Winds of sin echoed a vacant soul [powerful!And nice internal rhyme with winds of sin] as she swept dry bark from her past. The walk from her tattered life was steep, tired paths filled with mud and silt. Weary footsteps spill, then in silence creep, like gray shadows that fade and wilt. [nice] With grace she prayed all sins to confess, dusted ashes to purify death [can one "dust ashes?"] and wore her rue like a sullied dress, embraced glory with her last breath. [wonderful ending-for her and the poem] Copyright ? July 2007 marilyn terwilleger
This Poem was Critiqued By: Claire H. Currier On Date: 2007-07-24 03:28:27
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.84615
Good Morning poet and I might add another lovely read which just flows from beginning to end. Good rhyme as well and images created from the words you penned. We all travel roads in life's journey; some more fortunate then others in their ways; yet this one speaks of a hard road; one with many flaws perhaps yet not repeated due to the mistakes made. Liked the way you ended this one too as she embraced glory with her last breath. Thanks for posting, God Bless, Claire
This Poem was Critiqued By: James C. Horak On Date: 2007-07-21 16:26:19
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Even a short poem can sometimes require relief from its tone, formost so when it is one of suffering. Else what we see becomes like a spike driven in ground, going deeper and deeper, lost of its self anything by which to contrast. This woman is like that spike, known only to the reader for an evident life of anguish which illuminates nothing of her spirit, her hopes and dreams, her essential life force. Things that weather all manner of abuse and circumstance, whose very survival amid such anguish attest to that spiritual element. So that the words of the poet, "Do not go gentle into that good night" have meaning at all. Give me dimension. I'm going to include the greatest poem of suffering in the English language for you, one that was borne from the Great Depression and one whose power has an interesting and highly subtle way of offering hope. See if you can detect it. Then apply something like this to a rewrite. The Man with the Hoe Edwin Markham God made man in His own image In the image of God He made him.--Genesis Bowed by the weight of centuries he leans Upon his hoe and gazes on the ground, The emptiness of ages in his face, And on his back the burden of the world. Who made him dead to rapture and despair A thing that grieves not and that never hopes, Stolid and stunned, a brother to the ox? Who loosened and let down this brutal jaw? Whose was the hand that slanted back this brow? Whose breath blew out the light within this brain? Is this the Thing the Lord God made and gave To have dominion over sea and land; To trace the stars and search the heavens for power; To feel the passion of Eternity? Is this the dream He dreamed who shaped the suns And markt their ways upon the ancient deep? Down all the caverns of Hell to their last gulf There is no shape more terrible than this-- More tongued with censure of the world's blind greed-- More filled with signs and portents for the soul-- More packt with danger to the universe. What gulfs between him and the seraphim! Slave of the wheel of labor, what to him Are Plato and the swing of Pleiades? What the long reaches of the peaks of song, The rife of dawn, the reddening of the rose? Through this dread shape the suffering ages look; Time's tragedy is in that aching stoop; Through this dread shape humanity betrayed, Plundered, profaned and disinherited, Cries protest to the Powers that made the world, A protest that is also prophecy. O masters, lords and rulers in all lands, Is this the handiwork you give to God, This monstrous thing distorted and soul-quencht? How will you ever straighten up this shape; Touch it again with immortality; Give back the upward looking and the light; Rebuild in it the music and the dream; Make right the immemorial infamies, Perfidlous wrongs, Immedicable woes? O masters, lords and rulers in all lands, How will the future reckon with this Man? How answer his brute question in that hour When whirlwinds of rebellion shake all shores? How will it be with kingdoms and with kings-- With those who shaped him to the thing he is-- When this dumb Terror shall rise to judge the world, After the silence of the centuries?
This Poem was Critiqued By: DeniMari Z. On Date: 2007-07-19 19:47:48
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.75000
Dear Marilyn, Your at top form, with this post. Beautiful - and nothing that takes away from the poem as a whole. Your imagery - is so poetic; She felt tied to scorn/as trees rooted deep - Seeds of misdeeds planted but not re-born - to me says - mistakes were made but not repeated, am I right? This woman was spent - at some point in time, clearly stated with "weary, tired paths, and then the hope, the prayers she confessed, all lend such a poignant feeling to this poem. The last line is my favorite, as it ties in the title, and stills the reader to feel the awe of the entirety of the poem. Going on my list, because I loved it. sincerely, Denimari
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