Terry A's E-Mail Address: terry2054@live.ca

By adding a Personal Profile, the information you add will be displayed whenever someone clicks on your name from any number of different screens. You can also add your very own Picture, Favorite URL & Favorite Song to your Personal Profile!

So far 709 People have Entered a Personal Profile on The Poetic Link! Click Here to see the rest of them or to Add your Own Personal Profile Now!

Below you will see ALL of the Critiques that Terry A has given on The Poetic Link.
By Clicking a Poem Title, you can view the poem that is associated with each Critique.

If you would like to view all of Terry A's Poetry just Click Here.

Click HERE to return to ThePoeticLink.com Database Page!

Poem Title	Poet Name	Critique Given by Terry A	Critique Date
If I Could Tell Him the Truth	Theresa H Johnson	Theresa, There is much to remark on this poem. And your spiritual understanding of what might matter, is broader then your one line, "that Jesus Christ is the only way to heaven". There are many people who disappear...sometimes I wonder if some of these people, instead of suicide, simply walk out of their lives, leaving all the structure and form behind, and begin again; as though reborn to every possibility they thought might ever exist for them. You offer the suicidal, your view of the difference between god and God, a subtlety you've done especially well in this poem; and present your truth as an alternative, a hope. Especially lovely is your musing upon his thoughts, "the wind of God would break his fall", thus you give us a character easily as spiritual as yourself. Sometimes, its almost as though ALL of our moments choose between life and death; as though life has to be given purpose. With that, perhaps the differences are not so stark. There is everything of the poetic about your poem and that is not so easily accomplished, when strong religious tones are present. Hope to see more of your poetry. Terry	2006-02-28 16:49:29
The Outside, In	Mark Andrew Hislop	This poem has quite a chant-like rhythm. Much writing, preserved from the past, induced that almost trance like feeling in the reader. The form of many things, including prayer; which is how you structure your first lines, by petition. The microscope and the telescope and the search for the Unified Theory. Your poem, is frankly physics, made poetic,and with such a strong human element present. "half-way house for travelers", kinda sums up my life for the past few years, that feeling of almost being somewhere. Started too late critiquing poems this month Mark, but as this is my favorite of yours, I'll add this one to my voting list. Terry	2006-02-28 16:11:58
Darning	Dellena Rovito	Hi Dellena, I hope that you can submit this poem to a magazine, for its marvelous, in such a homemaker kind of way. Your use of language, parallels the socks, detailed, interesting, piles and piles of socks amid piles and piles of words; all as descriptive as the other. The metaphor of value and repair is justified fully in this poem; and it takes artistry to do it as well as you do here. The stanzas work in a way I'd like to experiment more with in my own writing, very effective and contributing much to the reading. This poem has the voice of a free and generous spirit, and is of a far more optimistic faith then seems the usual. Could explain a little why you've stayed at TPL, when so many other women shy away. Terry	2006-01-27 18:03:39
Crowded	Jana Buck Hanks	Hi Jana, This is the best writing I've seen portraying clinical depression. The waving lines, lack of capitalization and punctuation, bring the reader into a world where nothing has anchor, a 'god-forsaken nothingness'. I don't know if you ever saw the show "Ordinary People", your poem is close to the state the young man described before he attempted suicide; and lent to my understanding some idea of what process is involved. The last part of the poem is pivotal, for all of a sudden, you bring in a self-assessing WILL, the only time an action can take place. It also has a spiritual aspect, almost as though the person portrayed in the poem, could be ripping themselves OUT of the depression, not by death, but by change. As though refusing that part in themselves so bound. 'torque my spirit deeply and swallow I deeply', is wonderfully poetic. Terry	2006-01-27 17:41:56
The bad place	Mark Andrew Hislop	Now, having been forwarned of mindless appropation, I will try to make this a critique of mindful approbation. In short, I think the poem superb. When Paris attracted expatriots from all over...almost every artist worth something spent time there, trying to push out of the narrow fields of propriety that so dictated (almost inexplicitly) creative limits. Allowing experimentation with sex, drugs, and such things as absinthe. Now I'm sure those more astute among us might come close to guessing the figure you portray here, but the poem is so inclusive, so applicable, it does transcend biography. Absinthe (Hess and the Magic Theatre)was treated as a holy wine among artists, doorways to other dimensions; and artists, among all, strive to expand consciousness. But that's one of the points of your poem, "what lies beneath"; what dredges up from parts of the mind, left undisturbed until then, is absolutely individual to the person doing the experimentation. "rigor petrifying through the stanzas" is a little ambiguous, do you mean, caused to become solid, as when a poem is conceived and then written on paper, or as a deadening thing? A marvelous jump occurs in the poem with the word 'Hyperlink', a kind of electrical connection between life and death; also symbolizes the absinthe. The 'until it became what lies beneath'; which ends the poem on two levels, the body rotting in the ground, as absinthe rotted the spirit. Now, I hesitated on critiquing this poem, because it reads technically perfect, and I'm not sure why. Poetically, it has rhythm, the stanza breaks are masterfully done and that's not something I often perceive. And it succeeds because the imagery carries the ideas so completely. This critique is not complete, alas, it has the limits of my understanding craft in it. It is a great poem. Terry	2006-01-27 17:17:16
Song of the Undescribed	Regis L Chapman	Om Bolo -does that mean, God Is. ? This poem is quite lovely, more a prayer as the great Psalms of the Bible. As such, I won't critique it as a poem; and hope that you will share more of your experiences at the ashram. Both good and bad. Terry	2006-01-18 19:57:17
Gunning, dying.	Mark Andrew Hislop	A portrait, very well done. So many of those towns persist, yawning out the remains of their existence; attracting new-comers because of real-estate prices and some desire to vacant the rat-race. Quaint hamlets, some call them; others, dead-ends. "Pulse stolen", a very effective metaphor; as are the others you use in this poem. The language chosen for its deadening qualities set the tone. And the extended metaphor, highly effective; having parallels with many other things. A successful poem. But, leaving the reader much inclined towards the "new highway". Humans, almost instinctively, prefer what is living. Terry	2006-01-18 19:34:13
Which World Is Yours	Medard Louis Lefevre Jr.	Medard, You bring some good ideas to bear upon the poem; but I think you might do it more effectively by making it more personal. The "you" is who? Though there is a commonality of experience that assumes understanding, your ideas lose effectiveness by pointing them straight at a uncertained individual. Even "we" is a bit precarious; sometimes I read "we" in a poem and think, where's/who's the "we"?. It presumes too much upon the reader. What you do succeed at doing is showing the intense complexity of a world where reality is formulated by what people draw out of it, and what they give their attention to. Asking the question several times, Which world is yours?. And it is a good question to ask. I do not think this poem would suffer by using punctuation, it might enhance it. The poem also takes no judgemental stance; and that lends it an innocence that allows open discussion. Terry	2006-01-18 19:06:03
death...her victory!	Rebecca B. Whited	Your poem is apt commentary on a system, in which the welfare of the child should come first, and often does not. The format of the poem is interesting, each line a thought, you capture the point by point method that bureaucracy favors and its failings to deal effectively with people. Too much abnegation of responsibility results when social workers hold to the letter of the laws made, mainly to protect themselves. It is difficult for anyone to see death as a victory, and that doesn't work for me. Through I believe that all receive their just rewards in the long run; still, it is the least satisfactory outcome for a child in the welfare system. But, as the poem was understated, you may have deliberately intended irony. This poem deals with such a serious social issue, one in which the flesh and blood of those involved must be determined by more then just handbooks of rules. Terry	2006-01-18 00:40:54
Winter Drought	Mell W. Morris	The descriptive phrases in this poem work are exceedingly able. The effects of drought on the land, mirrored by the physical and mental effects felt by the speaker. The combination is so spledidly done; the reader, through the sensuous imagery experiences the poem. But somehow, I feel you have not made a case for moisture to come. Two lines and we are brought from drought to rain. When I read the poem several times, I felt Gerard Manley Hopkins lines --From poem 51--"Mine, O thou lord of life, send my roots rain."--as fitting the poem. In order to be completely successful, I feel this poem needs more of the summoning. As richly done as your portrayal of a parched land. But still Mell, so enjoyable because each image was unique and interesting and woven so well. Terry	2006-01-18 00:06:14
The Poorly Dressed	James C. Horak	I have often thought, that the measure of the poet, is in the poem. No matter the discussions and the critiques, on TPL; the thing that matters is the poem. It is the essence of the man or woman. And is what "dresses", the efforts here. What does the poet wear? Language- imagery, simile, metaphor, all poetic devise. The wardrobe is the vocabulary and what is done with it. "Reduced to fashion statement"; harkens more to the modern universities and colleges that have dutifully taken upon themselves to define poetry and what might get grants. Now finding the most creative on the internet fringes, (like TPL)allowing a new poetry to take root, perhaps a poetry that might learn to speak to the real hearts and minds of people. Yes, poetry can be dangerous, and should be; anytime technology MUST be tempered by ethical consideration; poets have to become the voice of mind and soul. Now, I have taken this poem as largely metaphoric, considering its more mundane interpretation as the one least meant by you. Being as I'm old enough to realize beneath the veneer of what people wear, and don't seem to be much of a fashion statement myself...though I have good taste, I missed that period where women dressed to catch prizes, (thankfully, I guess(?).) There is something to be said for "staying under the radar"; clothes do not determine a noble man or woman; a poet is enriched only by his or her words. Time tells best of all. The poem poetically (and in this one the meaning interests me most of all), is colloquial and simple. Its meanings are straight-forward, its points made without confusion. But it is a poem that waits for another poem to justify itself- WHEN he's good, it doesn't matter. Terry	2006-01-14 19:23:00
A Woman Combing	Thomas Edward Wright	Tom, The very rhythm of the poem evokes the brushing, the sea. Words that evoke so much love, such depth of caring; without ever once partaking of sentimentality, or relying on pat generalization. How imagery can be infused with the feelings of love, concern and joy, dignifying every aspect of life; lending it such beauty. The few Downs' children I have been in contact with, exhibited the only pure joy I have witnessed among people on earth, absolutely untainted. To be able to express that in language,the way you have done here, is remarkable. To see into the soul of something or someone so clearly and to make it shareable, is to me, what poetry is about. No suggestions to improve this poem, it is a gem, perfect cut. Terry	2006-01-14 18:13:54
At The 318 Where	Thomas Edward Wright	This is marvelous. You intwine so much metaphor and image, it reads like we're eating the words, each image an explosion of sensuous experience. Taking the reader into the experience, almost transcending reality by deepening experience of it. Better then marvelous; this poem is alive. Terry	2005-11-27 23:35:21
Can I Borrow Your Legs?	laura j dean	Hi Laura, This poem is interesting, because it points out to all, what is so commonly taken for granted. You tell the reader you don't have the use of your legs, completely without bitterness, and it is nostalgic to the extreme. Yet, humor and light-heartedness sail through the stanzas, bittersweet almost. I would trim a little, the second stanza seems too extravagant, and poetically adds little to the poem. Also, I would punctuate, just a little more then you have. Also, in the last stanza, "the reality of wishful thinking has not abandoned my senses" and "yet to dream of independency" doesn't quite work...it might be "reality has not abandoned my senses, yet wishful thinking IS to dream of independency". Or change "reality" to "dream"; or some less tethered word then "reality". You might even change the ending to a prayer -"please, Can my legs remember what they knew." This poem gives the reader a insight into what thoughts might accompany the handicapped. A little fixing-up and I think it would be a fine addition to one of the magazines devoted to health and healing. Terry	2005-11-27 23:16:29
The Vision Vanessa	Sean Donaghy	You know, I've often thought that poets should get together and design a new set of greeting cards, ones that are witty, fun and smart. Maybe, limited additions, so that the market doesn't suck the originality out of them. Now, what is most interesting about this poem, is that you peer beneath veneers, and then beneath more veneers; all the while making your concise observations appear light hearted. Tells us something, and very well told, that seeing ANYONE unidimensionally is a mistake. And you achieve this by a superb use of contrasting images. The poem has a sing-song quality, which makes it a breeze to read; this quality almost always guarantees that it won't be taken seriously. No bite, and sometimes, that sure is nice. Terry	2005-11-16 16:43:44
At Her Grave, and After	Thomas Edward Wright	It is the succinct economy of language and the way you build the day through simple detail, that is outstanding. "Ate ribs to the bone", most expressive of the final acts, finished; as though the life was cut clean through to the death. You evoked a warm intimacy of your Mother's life by naming people, mentioning her grandchildren. A shiver, by the cough. A respect by the reserve. An extreme ordinariness, a veneer, by which you subtley infuse with many meanings. Now, this poem bears examination because of the way you do this; and it is a fine honor of your Mother. Respectfully -The last line "Leaving us to remember how" does not seem supported in the context of what you have written here. The poem is so full of gentle memory. This line begins, it does not end. Terry	2005-11-11 00:16:36
haiku (first light)	Joanne M Uppendahl	Hi Joanne, The haiku must have fresh, new and original material. Because the form is so minimal, every image should deliver, in a surprising, evocative or interesting way. I like the way you placed these haiku's together, as I have long felt that haiku doesn't stand well on its own anymore, rarely offering enough to cause pause. And you very well captured the dreariness of the walk. 'Smelling feather dust' doesn't work for me, would in the confines of a bird enclosure, just can't see how otherwise. And you haven't made a case for imagination. You say, 'few of them reply', then, 'they greet the new day'; I realize you mean by their flight, but then the haiku's are not working together; as I think you intended. The title seems a misnomer, because there is little light in the poems. You have written some good poetry, I'll watch for it; but these haiku need more to make them memorable. Now, with that, please feel free to offer any and all suggestions to me for improvement on my poetry. Terry	2005-11-07 22:04:34
Crying in a rugby context	Mark Andrew Hislop	A marvellous stream of consciousness like poem. You hit close to just how absurd, how rich, how profoundly human a poem/poet can be. Candor in your confessions; without self-pity, no window-dressing. That takes guts. Original and brave. Terry	2005-11-03 00:04:55
No Glory	Medard Louis Lefevre Jr.	This poem is intellectually complicated, but not poetically complicated. A better sermon from the pulpit,then most hear. Is that what you wish? It doesn't run these rivers of thought into the blood because it comes a little too much like a stern lecture ripping at the veils surrounding awareness. Perhaps try moral alegory? Or more imagery? To try and bring the thoughts closer to the hearts and souls of the readers. You have something to say and its worth hearing. Terry	2005-11-02 23:55:45
Fishing for Marks, and an Herb	Thomas Edward Wright	Imagery is superb. If I would venture anything, somehow its the accessibility to meaning... as though written in a code of images, metaphors...as though composed to someone who might have the means to decipher...where ever I pick out a meaning...I'm not sure, for sure. Even Dylan Thomas gives more hints then you do, but then, it took me awhile to be able to truly appreciate his poems for their detailed richness. So...maybe it's just me. Hope you stick around. The link is in need of a better future. Terry	2005-11-02 23:28:59
A Scouse Haiku	stephen g skipper	Haiku is deceptively simple, that is why there are so few good ones. Pound said, 'Haiku depends on caligraphy for its effects...a series of pictures' and 'the theme must be substantial'. What you have coined here is a rather delightful childrens' rhyme. I like Basho. If you have time to study his haiku, there is shown the subtlety, a master of the art can show. Good luck with the writing course! Terry (here's one from Ryokan) I must go there today- Tomorrow the plum blossoms will scatter.	2005-09-19 20:55:52
Unscheduled return	Mark Andrew Hislop	I swear the genre of love poetry is going to improve vastly, if you keep this up. I think Robert Graves would have smiled reading this poem; a slow, knowing smile. Same for Thomas Hardy. Not bad company, eh? Terry	2005-09-18 23:06:53
why?	charles r pitts	You have captured the spirit of divorce, from dawn to dusk. Well-done; but not poetically beautiful; except for the last line--Cursing darkness, cursing dawn. Metaphorically far more encompassing and effective; then the a-b-c sound of the rest. Be assured I do not denigrate the effort; and I appreciate that sadness rather then anger permeates the poem; something a divorce lawyer recently told me, is the case now, more then ever before. Terry	2005-09-18 22:51:39
betrayal	charles r pitts	Most effective!!! The poems submitted in the fashion you have fortify and strenghten the others. It takes great skill to say something large with few words and you have succeeded most marvelously. Enjoyed all four poems...thanks! Terry	2005-09-11 17:42:44
To the Man Reading Melville on the Beach	Thomas Edward Wright	Oh wait... til you get to Finnegans Wake! J.J. had a way with words and a beautiful appreciation of the complexities of human interaction and by the way, so do you. Delightful poem. Terry	2004-06-21 18:58:54
Nostalgia	Edwin John Krizek	Edwin, I like this poem! The read could benefit most by providing some spacing, so that the reader can savor each line, without tumbling into the next thought/image. Wandering over the rolling hills of my past, wistfully I remember my life. Pain tempered with love(,) left healed scars that remind me of growing older. Like knotholes(,) these wounds live on in a new way(,) while the tree’s tallest limbs reach ever higher. I think of these times now with fondness and understanding. A kind man might call this notion wisdom. In the end most of the angst doesn’t matter. Death’s hand touches everyone. (everything?) See the struggling salmon swim upstream to fulfill themselves, and hear the waves crash on the rocks, and you will know. (...) The shadows of my youth now are illuminated by the burn of age. A lovely poem. Terry	2004-06-21 18:37:50
Poem Title	Poet Name	Critique Given by Terry A	Critique Date

Displaying Critiques 101 to 126 out of 126 Total Critiques.
Click one of the following to display the: First 50 ... Previous 50 ... Last 50 Critiques.

If you would like to view all of Terry A's Poetry just Click Here.

Click HERE to return to ThePoeticLink.com Database Page!