Thomas Edward Wright's E-Mail Address: thomas@tomwrightmd.com

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 Thomas Edward Wright 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 Thomas Edward Wright's Poetry just Click Here.

Click HERE to return to ThePoeticLink.com Database Page!

Poem Title	Poet Name	Critique Given by Thomas Edward Wright	Critique Date
If You Could Live Your Life Backward	Mell W. Morris	Out standing in your field Yes, yes, yes.	2004-10-25 12:08:27
Moon haiku #1	Joanne M Uppendahl	OK. This one's better. tom	2004-10-25 12:06:20
Tree haiku #2	Joanne M Uppendahl	I think the reiteration in "let go".../"releasing..." detracts from the strength of the piece. You should need only once to impose that image on the piece. Say something else. tom	2004-10-25 11:50:57
Tree haiku #3	Joanne M Uppendahl	"...whisper," connotes the idea of secrets. is "exhibit" the proper verb for "sounds" just wondering... tom	2004-10-25 11:47:22
Moon Haiku #3	Joanne M Uppendahl	There is a sensualness to the poem with its feminine orbs and roundnesses glowing that creates a touch of dissonance with the death-images of Halloween, All Saints, All Souls, Fall, winter on the way, Spring a long way off. Pregnant with ideas and images in 17 steps. Here's to insanity. t.	2004-10-25 11:45:22
pernicious anomaly	Mell W. Morris	Mell- What did I notice? Passion... Then, too I note that your drawl is less noticeable, which is helpful to a Minnesotan who listens for walleyes slapping at the dock - not rhymes, not metaphorically inspired verse, not this. Those who sidle up to the buck and doe, hunters who linger in the glow of nature with admiration - they will get some of this, though. Did I note that your bibs are hugging the buns a bit tighter this year? Must be the matter of the batter, not the bitterness of the beer. But then again, I'm a walleyer, and what do I know about words, or poets, or Texans on fire, or beer, or verbs? This one certainly has you all over it. Glad you marched it out of the archives. We all know and love this sound! Hell, it sounds just like you! Even then you had the holy gift. Thanks alot for the little lift. t.	2004-10-25 11:40:19
The Door	marilyn terwilleger	Very nice mt. my only criticism is in the line: "and warmth no onlger caresses me" seems like too many syllables. otherwise, I really love it. especially like the line breaks, you chose to enjamb in good spots. works well. kudos. tw	2004-10-25 10:53:34
Stones Will Sing	Joanne M Uppendahl	Hi- Have been out of poetry for awhile, doing other things. I stop by and read now and then. When I sit to write the trite and meaningless find their way onto the pages. So, I'm trying but having little luck with anything. Nice to see that someone is steadily productive. Enjoyed it. t.	2004-09-28 21:43:28
A life in the day of a gutter-girl	Lynda G Smith	One of the better ones this month. Thank you for keeping this site alive. ex machina	2004-09-03 22:07:57
The Hand that Fills Your Cup	Joanne M Uppendahl	I read this title and tittered at the possibilities...	2004-09-02 22:19:46
Becoming Acquainted With Bly	Mell W. Morris	I avoid most people who write to poets, ex-specially those whose poetry is better than the poets they think are better than them who they're writing too to look or sound educated when they could write circles around the aortic roots of those who obfuscate them into the tirades that end up on web sites frequented by the rabble rousers or would-be pundits of the internet. I avoid the irritating urge to send letters to those who don't know me or don't care to step out into the world to see it as it really is. A shit-hole with a lid. But I come out when people like you raise the bar, just to see if I can hit my head on it when I run under it.	2004-09-02 22:15:20
Blue Lucy	Mell W. Morris	Miniscibility: The only word I have trouble with. Miscibility? Humbly, From the Cold Country	2004-08-10 19:45:21
The Force That Through My Muse Drives The O	Mell W. Morris	Smitten with the fifteenth letter of ours, the lovely O, and no one is more stunned Than I. Always favoring consonants, I Find vowels histrionic, ever moaning, Groaning, overly emotional. But here I am, embracing Omicron, imagining Circles, haloes, and breasts, whose appetizing O's Filled with zest, once a necessary part of love. I Sit and murmur O, my mouth round with Pleasure like a post-coital murgeon, Minus the coitus (like roe without a sturgeon). Due to my newly-opened door, my writing Will change and mayhaps it will emerge Masturbatory as Dylan Thomas'...no, I Cannot celebrate onanism at this late date And gentle I will not go into that good Night. Yet with my O, I sense a shadow Flow and hear a distant sound. The melody Of charm would disarm any disbeliever As it expands to a grand resolution. I know it issues out the far berm and floats Above and from the man who loved Fern Hill As I love 'O' till I go with him. this is outstanding. I cannot but smile and wonder from whence this came. so to speak. t.	2004-07-30 16:19:20
Portrait of Loss As Three Styles of Music	Mell W. Morris	DIRGE She [ ] is fraying at the edges, fading, almost invisible. Like an ocean barely touching bottom, she's stretched: [a rubber band with a bad organ.] He'd licked, nibbled, and feasted on her until she'd been near-consumed and his jaw-wide need [satisfied.] Then with a swipe of lips, he cast her away. COUNTRY WESTERN She misses him, intensely on weekends, when couples stroll to the square where children roister and oldsters take the sun. Mid afternoon, the wind snorts awake, starts to scatter newspapers, [] twirls and sprinkles sand from the play[ground]. People gather [ ] as tenebrous clouds herald a []storm, the type [that] arrive[s] with a roar then mizzl[es] all day. HESITATION BLUES She walks slowly home, drenched yet refreshed [in] a rite of renewal but if this rate is restorative, she needs a maelstrom for complete recovery. Time heals all wounds, she remembers, that saw stored in her brain with other disjointed bits and pieces[: that] red wheelbarrow glazed with rain, [the] slumber-sealed spirit, curious knot God made in Eden. Time heals all wounds. Or so they say. Yes, so they say. [She walks so slowly home.] Best damn music I've read in a while. I'd give a 9.0 on the Richter Scale. The air must be fuliginously rank. t.	2004-07-29 21:16:55
Sleepless in Colombo	Mark Andrew Hislop	Yes. With reversible outerwear. And a grilled smile.	2004-07-01 21:34:30
The hallway	Mark Andrew Hislop	very sexy. i knew her. once. long ago.	2004-07-01 21:27:48
The Perseids Are Coming	Joanne M Uppendahl	Just how my wife and I got our start. They're our private fireworks display. Thanks for reminding me. tom	2004-07-01 21:17:16
Tending Tending	Molly Johnson	How about "Why a Chain Saw Would Ruin It."	2004-07-01 21:07:16
Mother Sea's Recipe (Serves Two)	Joanne M Uppendahl	funny. i was thinking of using a recipe to create a poem... how that works. the mind	2004-06-29 20:46:49
japanese verse 52 (Zephyr)	Erzahl Leo M. Espino	ee- do you need the "the" in line 2? te	2004-06-23 04:30:24
In Anticipation of the Pines	Joanne M Uppendahl	Hi- Believe I'll take a few days off, dust off the old hammock hang myself in it with a good book and a beer. By the sea, I remember the bent tree the old woman kyphotically stooped in gnarled grief her mourning but a glimmer of light off the tidal pool far below her sheer cliff-home and children on the sand and the salt on the wind and the grit in your hand and the way it disappeared and returned to whisper in my deaf ear again and again as if it didn't believe I don't listen to the sea or believe in ghosts or fairytale endings but trust the starfish in the end to tell me the truth	2004-06-21 04:48:33
On the Character of Climbing Vines	Joanne M Uppendahl	Rev.- Review Reverend Revere Reverence Revenant Revelation Revile Revoke Reveal Reverberate BTW - I'm not sure I like " - please stay." I think it's more powerful without it. I like the longer line. And the ivy on the old lime. Stone	2004-06-21 04:34:34
Tree	marilyn terwilleger	Hey- You stole simoom!! I was wondering where she went.... tom	2004-06-21 04:23:19
Never Yield	marilyn terwilleger	Very nice mar - I was wondering how "morrow" sounds to your ear and "on" instead of "upon" just something to consider tom	2004-06-21 04:21:29
Tsa-ga-gla-tal in Spring	Joanne M Uppendahl	Nice. A fitting accompaniment to the sibling. Your generative powers bring life to life. tom	2004-06-21 04:18:32
Heaven After Lunch	Edwin John Krizek	Full of food my belly's [distends] past the portal of personal boundaries. I sit down too near the sleeping old man whose mouth gapes [open while] as he takes in the air of his dreams. He gets up and moves [away] from me to a table with a dark blue umbrella shading the sun [from his face]. We stare uncomfortably at each other's [ key exchange ] across the sunswept porch. I start to speak, but instead of words clouds of color [come out of my mouth]--- red, green, blue, yellow, purple, pink, and orange [. The color clouds] lightly touch down to reveal a cascade of summer flowers flowing from red clay pots [and] arranged in tiers along the hips of the weather-worn porch. The old man smiles[,] [at me as he] rises and fades [into ??] tom	2004-06-14 21:34:33
One As Beautiful As You	Mell W. Morris	HI- This is so elegant. You held off on the blazing guns, allowing the sparklers to do their thing. The rhythm and pace are perfection's reflection. You've outdone yerself here, girl. Vincent, and Don, would approve. tom	2004-06-13 20:37:52
japanese verse 50 (Swallows)	Erzahl Leo M. Espino	ee- To? Through? te	2004-06-09 11:46:15
THE CLOUD THAT FOLLOWS ME	Michael N. Fallis	You're in the VFW now (Veteran of Forgettable Websites). Grab a chair and your butts, a beer would be Okay, too! In the sky above my head A shadow's cast [on me??] From dark and grey and flashing clouds They're [always there] to see. Throughout my life, [] 'ere I go They rumble over head And grow in strength until they burst With [the] misery [] they shed. I've tried to run for cover [Beneath] umbrellas of my friends[;] I can't blame one, [ ] can't blame all [Since the day??] they fled! I prayed to God for shelter From the downpour beating me, A warm and dry asylum Where the raindrops leave me be I fear one day this torrent Will beat me to the ground And in the rising waters [] They'll find [that I have] drowned. Are you going to be metrically strict with this piece? If not, then be careful, because a "rhymer" like this needs good rhythm to feel "right." Clouds overhead, raining, friends bail out, search for God, fear drowning in the rain - I suppose he didn't offer you protection, or you failed to find Him; both very likely the case, IMHO. So you're right. We all drown. Unless you learn how to swim. tom	2004-06-09 11:41:23
Tree Forting	G. Donald Cribbs	I read "Tree Farting" and then the Scheffer poem came to mind and ... So, anyway, on to fOrt Tree: Morning frost lifts off [the ground???] where steps draw [me to?] the field’s edge, the tree line border[] blanketed by branch arms spired against the dawn sky. I clamber up walnut and oak all morning feeling twice my height with [] earth below, just out of reach. The sun summits when the cool grass reaches up to embrace the weight of my limbs sprawling through current and air, a kiss [she] leaves on my cheek[]. Soon my son will scramble up [] trunks, crouch[] in notched valleys, search[] for places to build castles and boyish dreams far too idyllic for this earth. Surely he will feel the weight of the sky pressing each of us against the earth, as if gravity wasn’t enough to remind us we weren’t meant to fly. For now I have nights of holding his small frame in my arms, rocking him to sleep, wondering what dreams hold him fast to this world, keeping him from leaping back up in the dust of sky where he came like a glimpse inside heaven. Those are my humbly submitted misappropriations, tom	2004-06-09 11:26:26
10:26	Sandra J Kelley	It is a strange time, in a strange place. All over the world, people forget what stopped []. I remember that time when angels - A time when there were twilights and bonfires, captors and liberators, souls and answering winds - The fire crackles in its place. It is precisely 10:26 the world has not yet stopped, yet turns - I await the rising sun [and here you need to fill in the hours between 1026 and sunrise with whatever it is you're doing or thinking about that stopped the world or made it strange] tom	2004-06-09 11:17:29
Paper Scatters	Jacob W Roberts	Jake- Quite a start. I would stick with the Brussels Babe and see where that goes. She sounded really interested in you, and then you dumped her for that brain salad with the house un-dressing. Too bad your study buddy isn't here to see you flying around inside your own head, banging into things, one synapse at a time. If this isn't high on the Hit Parade this month I'm heading into gardening. Mr. Right.	2004-06-08 12:27:46
A Tribute	Sherri L Smith	Well said. Amen. And Thanks to you and to them. Patriots, all. tom	2004-05-31 17:48:06
The Watcher	Regis L Chapman	Interesting. Has a nice rhythm to it, and is chock full of nuts (in a good way) I wondered if "bequest" would work better than "bequeath" but that's not important to the overall message. I enjoyed the many twists and turns, the math, the scientific, even Caught and Confession. Watching.	2004-05-29 13:13:55
japanese verse 49 (Eclipse)	Erzahl Leo M. Espino	now i am hoping ee rid his computer of the evilness t.	2004-05-28 08:55:00
Hiding	Nancy Anne Korb	All in all, very good. Only recommendation: "From your cell" (u don't need "off") t	2004-05-28 08:53:48
Song of Praise	Mark Andrew Hislop	I suspect that there is some reference here to his relationships within the literary community. Therein he was either loved or hated. Apparently. I have not the energy to unfold the many pleats of this sheet. However, I found the piece interesting in its construction, with many turns and reversals as you play with the two root-words. I commend you in your commendable condemnation of the commendor. I think. tew.	2004-05-28 08:52:15
The Guru	Mark Andrew Hislop	Mark Andrew- An utterance only a poet could craft. No one else could string thought from such depths to censure those on such tenuous heights. The Black Jack	2004-05-28 08:30:32
Dawning	Nancy Anne Korb	Hey Nancy- I'm embarrassed that I didn't catch the inference to your upbringing and the (now) obvious tough childhood you've miraculously endured. This is another poem confronting that past, a past you'll keep dealing with, I'm sure, for the rest of your life. I think this writing process is your form of healing and dealing with it, and you should be proud of what you're doing and where it's going to take you. There are many who fail to successfully emerge from the cocoon. to the piece: Like a snail darkness crept [darkness here referring to the abusive situation] Rearing its slimy head Then back to its portable bed. [portable referring to the snail's shell] Wending its horrible way, Allowing us nothing to say, Day after miserable day. [creeping through your life inexorably] Stealing the promise of happiness, Pain suspended, unexpressed, Shadows and so used to less. [should there be a comma in here? "so used to" vs. "...so - used to less"?] The cold freeze of winter took hold in our hearts, [need cold w/ freeze of winter???] Emptiness learned from a young life in parts, ["learned" emptiness??? - a better verb?] Never allowing our childhood's to start. [just say "childhood" or "childhoods"] Like enemies in battle, choosing up sides, Seeking the strongest to hide behind, The ones who should love us, so very blind. Till growth gave us freedom, Life bade us to come, [bade us come] And try to forget where we'd all come from. [no. "where we're from"] Break it up visually to set the tercets apart. Work on meter if you're going to rhyme. Rhyming works need a musical beat, right? Musical feet. The next step for this piece is to make all the lines match metrically. Then clean up the imagery and the metaphor of the darkness, the snail. I see you more as the snail than the darkness. Live in the darkness of your shell and emerge to witness and suffer in it. Then the dawning is the shedding of the shell, the adoption or growth of legs and walking on the earth. The dawning of a new you. tom	2004-05-28 08:23:23
Skylark	marilyn terwilleger	I cannot support this format. too repetitious. too many soars. send BandAids. Send Skylark. You only need him once. tom	2004-05-27 07:51:35
Enchanted Stew	Edwin John Krizek	Let me stuff it down your throat... I mean thank you for the invitation. I'm busy. Tonite. Most of the time I'm busy. I'll bring a salad. And whine. tom	2004-05-27 07:36:32
Sisyphus' Epistle or The Humanist's Punishment	Edwin John Krizek	Like a scholarly work. Like an old film redone in modern verse. Like a match in the hands of a child. Like that. Only better. Or worse. Rock Pusher	2004-05-27 07:18:45
The Color of Harmony	Mell W. Morris	Hello Mello How can anyone argue with that? Fill my glass. And pass the nuts. t	2004-05-27 07:13:29
Seedlings	Nancy Anne Korb	Hi Nancy Anne- I think many of us started on that road, and quickly, or not so, realized what was up over there. Are you getting mailings yet? You will. Run. ... A little about TPL-land: Hopefully you will get an analysis from some of the really good critiquers here, and they can tell you what they honestly feel about your piece. You should know, however, that most everyone here is too nice, and would never say anything if they thought the piece was junk. So silence is (sometimes) not so golden. Or, it is golden, but it's not what you expected/wanted/hoped...to hear. If you are patient and not too critical, you will enjoy working with this us, a group of internet poets with nothing better to do than sit around reading verse. (I'm dead meat! :) ) If you are expecting "help" with your writing, I think you must be patient and persistent. We are more a sounding board (sounding bored?) than a workshop. The work comes from you. We play with the balls you throw us. Sometimes we throw something back. Sometimes we don't, and you need to understand that. There are some really talented people here, and I think reading their work is the most valuable thing to an emerging talent. That's what I've come to believe after 2 years. I think I'm better not because of what someone told me to do, but because I've read and read good poetry and have become more critical about what I say, how I say it, etc. blah, blah... ... To your poem: I think you've got real talent. You've pieced together some nice imagery and wrapped it with a nice title. Your metre is somewhat forced and stilted in spots, but I think that's always the case with a rhyme scheme, because when I read what you wrote it doesn't ever sound like you (the author) heard it in your mind. I wish that we had a way to record ourselves reading the pieces aloud. It would change "what" and "the way" we "publish." Cradle of chaos, tumultuous womb Create in children the need to wound The idea you're proposing here, that pain and suffering are based in womb-terror seems a bit of a stretch to me, but perhaps I am taking the "tumultuous womb" too literally. Healing appears in fog laden swirls [should this be "fog-laden"??] Dance cross an abyss with no wings they hurl. [ " 'cross " contraction of " across " ?] Sweet golden kisses, just beyond space, While new born pain falls from heaven's own place. [unsure of meaning here] Have you wandered away from your seedlings metaphor? I lost you in this last stanza. Good poetry always seems to be self-referrential and wrapped up very tightly, like a nut. I feel there are some good ideas floating around here, but they are not knit together to make this a nut I can crack. Looking forward to reading your future work. tom	2004-05-27 07:08:55
Hush, The Young Bird Sings Once More	Joanne M Uppendahl	Oooooooooooooooo Jo- Thanx for introducing me to Ms. Oliver. On Mary Oliver's Wrist I spent the last few minutes listening to the sun scrape its way into the night, it sounds like chocolate melting on a strawberry and tastes - oh my, it tastes like a sundae - Anyway, you might like the pool she swims in, the frogs and the swans make love all day long. All this at the fingertips of a woman. tom	2004-05-24 20:22:33
Of Flowers, Bees and Meteors	Joanne M Uppendahl	Jo So many wonderful submissions this month. The poetic stars are aligned. This is classic Joanne: the naturalist's poet. While I'm beating around the bush Or strolling a fairway I'll try to find a worthy subject. Something feathered or furry. Or maybe a bug. But probably just a cold beer. And a long list of poetic mishaps. :) t.	2004-05-22 11:15:08
japanese verse 48 (Worms)	Erzahl Leo M. Espino	I was looking for a reference to the Diet at ... Luther would have had no chance here But would have understood the delicate balance. Humans, hooks, fishes. Biological connections. The history of man in 17 syllables. Like cicadas. Seventeen years. A prime number. Treasure it.	2004-05-22 10:59:51
Ashes	Rick Barnes	I am working on a responsorial hymn. Watch for it in a theatre near me. t.	2004-05-22 10:43:55
Sunday Morning With a Used Car Salesman	Molly Johnson	Molly- I love these real-life vignettes, the stolen scene, the captured moment. It's a photograph. It's a movie. Poetry at its best. bareness: almost baren-ness, only better. marvy. tom	2004-05-22 10:43:06
Balanced Accounts	Mell W. Morris	Mell: This month must be moving spirits in a spiritual direction, as there have been more good submissions of late from more poets than I can long recall. Yet there are few who march to the call with regularity and consistency of product than you do, and here, with this offering, you show us why you lead the band: you write the songs. Humbly, tom	2004-05-22 10:39:39
Poem Title	Poet Name	Critique Given by Thomas Edward Wright	Critique Date

Displaying Critiques 151 to 200 out of 354 Total Critiques.
Click one of the following to display the: First 50 ... Next 50 ... Previous 50 ... Last 50 Critiques.

If you would like to view all of Thomas Edward Wright's Poetry just Click Here.

Click HERE to return to ThePoeticLink.com Database Page!