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

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Poem Title	Poet Name	Critique Given by Thomas Edward Wright	Critique Date
"I Don't Know"	DeniMari Z.	DMZ- I know the feeling. The color is gray. The way out is the way in. Read. Write about a bug. TEW	2004-04-06 05:33:42
japanese verse 44 (Cross)	Erzahl Leo M. Espino	ee- yes, it's a twisted up, goofy world. looks like we're in for a long ugly battle with anti-Americanism. good luck in it. te	2004-04-06 05:32:02
Come Walk With Me	marilyn terwilleger	Is it a forestry project? "Let's" is the only problem I see. Marathoner.	2004-04-05 19:51:20
Rock a Bide Woman	Lynda G Smith	Lynda- To me you are speaking to the process of delivering: delivering a new self, and delivering a newborn. The self-shattering/-creating energy exemplified (?) in the (((pound))) - ing reminds me of the pneumatic hammering we see around here when new construction is going up, when they hammer in those huge iron I-beams to hold back the earth - a preventive move to prevent a collapsing-in-upon - the energies suggested in your piece are integral and substantial, and as the title suggests, are dealt with over time, biding time, as a rock bides time against the weathers, its inscriptions upon us defining who we may appear to be to others, when in all reality we are merely rocks. the sensation of quickening in the pregnant state is thumping and thundering through the piece, almost a metronome, but of longer frequency, like the motions of the continents, implying lengths of time not measured on a watch or even a calendar. i tried to find some way to connect with Ezra Pound here, but in my little reading and smaller mind am unable to do so, though it would not surprise me to find you immersed in one of his seas, as well! kudos on a fine piece, an emotionally and philosophically interesting read. tom	2004-04-05 14:23:34
White, Fallow Worlds	C Arrownut	Last night--beyond the control of science the blizzard hovered like a ghost. At dawn, outside my townhouse, my haven, snow drifted to five feet, massive mounds covered cars, a-glistening in the glare and angels of white, linked, all. Come afternoon, the whole neighborhood shoveling out, together, piling flakes ten feet high on three sides of each car and the impenetrable walls between us up-went. Seldom able to connect, islands 'neath the sun fated to twirl from conception through eternity. We only bond for fleeting moments, even then we re-plow our white, fallow fields of oblivion. just some thoughts to play with tom	2004-04-05 14:06:36
As Circles Close	C Arrownut	C- I very much agree with the message My only suggestion is in this redaction: In each circle, the new begin, In each inscription, incessant repetition. or something like that. very nice. tom	2004-04-05 13:55:43
"Hill's By The Sea"	Cathy Hill Cook	CHC- Wondering about the 'form' of the poem. Seems like it's long enough to use some spacing, just to give us some space. Consider finding ways to break it up, which allows it to take on another perspective. Also breaks the poem into managable parts, and allows for "reading between" Something like: Our family is [] drawn to the majestic moments at the Heavenly Sea, God’s first days of creation where the Heavens and Sea came to be. Our family call[s] their speck of the Island Shore “Hill’s By The Sea” that we own. Where we are so fortunate to experience one of God’s many wonders that we have known. There somehow its atmosphere lets our worries and frets fall and melt so free, The experiences at the Sea Shore are so very Spiritual for our family. We call "The Moment Of The Day" our special time when the sun rises and falls, God speaks to us Spiritually by his finger painting colors separating his Heavenly walls. At night we stand at the edge of the Sea Shore’s Island. Seeing immages of God’s countless people [] represented by each grain of sand. The twinkles of the stars are his Holy Angels, the moon His Glorious Crown. The waves dressed in transparent white are God’s edging of His lace on His Gown. As we look up and out at the sky and sea far beyond our sight, We feel God’s All Knowing and Love of everything created by His Almighty Might. BIGGER THAN BIG IS GOD INTO ETERNITY FOREVER, As each of Gods creations to Him uniquely cherished and His very own Treasure. or you could go with 4-line stanzas, splitting the long lines above. This is a way to polish the furniture you have so reverently built. tom	2004-04-05 13:46:05
Changing With The Changes	Marcia McCaslin	McC- Top Shelf stuff. It was. It was. Especially enjoyed the metaphors in the opening lines, books, kites, the contrasting hearts, then ending with the rhetorical question - cleverly done. Wondering about form, though. Explore that. tom	2004-04-05 13:39:18
Memories of Bertha	Sherri L. West	Sherri- Somehow this was not on my "to do" list, but when I voted for the first time, I noticed it, clicked on the link and voila - Really nice pictures and feeling drawn out for us here. The scents and smells of a gramma's kitchen, the garden and horses - all wonderful. If I had a complaint it would be the visual spacing in the last stanza. But the ending, a question, leaves the reader wondering about that story - the story of the rest of your life. We want more! Bravo. tom	2004-04-01 17:59:56
By the Pond	Joanne M Uppendahl	Hi Jo- One of my partners buys Mallard eggs every spring for his kids to watch hatch and grow. They imprint on them as they're without mommy, and follow them around the yard! He says the ducklings zoom around in the swimming pool underwater like little fish. Nature - what a great world. your spring scene capped off a beautiful day here in the midwest. cheer for our girls on Sunday night as they take on U Conn, OK? tom	2004-04-01 17:33:06
APPROACHING FULL CIRCLE (a self portrait)	Marcia McCaslin	Marcia- Thanks for submitting this effort to put a verbal face on yourself, your life as seen through your own eyes. As I've said to Ken and others, this is difficult. There's something about it that makes me uncomfortable, which is important, and it's getting in the way of me posting something in this genre. I'll keep working on it. I like the way you've circled up the wagons here, back into the child you thought you'd left behind. tom	2004-04-01 17:29:15
japanese verse 43 (Destiny)	Erzahl Leo M. Espino	ee- there is much truth here! As usual, you have trimmed the tree to its essential branches. we are left pondering navels full of lint. te	2004-04-01 06:51:47
Spring Quartet	Joanne M Uppendahl	Hey Jo- Briefly: Beautiful. just so.	2004-03-31 21:17:09
My Summer Dream Cabin	Marcia McCaslin	If I close my eyes I can see it. So it was good. And the morse code. nice touch. hope you're enjoying it. tom	2004-03-31 21:14:44
The Bucket	Marcia McCaslin	Ms Marcia- Was wondering why the Milky Way is hanging there on its own bar... seems lonely there. otherwise perfect. tom	2004-03-31 21:12:23
What Missing You Means	Rick Barnes	The master of the last supper has risen and bestowed upon us another in the mini-series "What Happened Then Was..." Anxiously awaiting the next installment.	2004-03-31 21:09:28
The Splendor of Fire	Jordan Brendez Bandojo	Sounds like a nice place. Smells good Too! I will be over for breakfast one day soon. tom	2004-03-31 16:26:10
Funeral	Emma Quinn	Just about right. A death arrives, bringing in all the old skeletons. quite nicely done, Ms. Quinn (a great surname, too). tom	2004-03-31 14:37:50
Search and Seizure in the Ache of Day	Rachel F. Spinoza	I'm the kitten. I'm the kitten. it feels breezy. close the doors.	2004-03-31 14:23:51
Seeking Comfort	Jane A Day	Come to Minne and we'll run naked through the streets then sit and sip Speckled Hen from a frosty mug and talk about the whether.	2004-03-31 14:21:58
Poems I Cannot Write	Sandra J Kelley	wonder if you should return to the opening theme in the closing?	2004-03-31 14:15:38
Chant	Jane A Day	Gregorian? i would cleave some articles and possessives, but this works as you've done it, too. it is a very moving vice, no? tom	2004-03-31 13:43:50
Actuality	Mark Andrew Hislop	Mark- This is a beautifully rendered piece. The language is simple and clear, no big words, but plenty of big and deep important ideas. And I love the ending: The last three lines really wrap the work up nicely. well done. tom	2004-03-31 13:34:04
God's Intervention of Abduction	Cathy Hill Cook	All I will say is don't send anyone any money. It's a scam. I don't want to discourage you from writing. So keep writing. But stay away from there. I don't want to hurt your feelings, either. So stay here, listen to advice, and keep writing. We can help you become a better poet. Don't worry about contests. They are for accomplished poets. Writing good poetry becomes harder and harder the more you know about it. So read, write and watch others. But do NOT write a check to anyone to have your poetry "published." tom	2004-03-17 21:36:57
Leaves Cling	Regis L Chapman	Reeg- mark scheffer talks about the seasons in his life, too; they seem to be disconnected from the sidereal world. I agree with the two of you that there are springs and falls, winters and summers. This piece is much clearer, and therefore far more powerful. Your use of short unpunctuated lines allows the reader to slide down the pole of ideas into the glass of (potential) wine at the bottom. Leaves Cling ...........Okay. We're talking trees, end of summer, coming of fall the leaves are tears .........the tree is you, or someone who is moving into a "fall" that cling to the road ........now the leaves of the tree are on a road: to where? of my brain ....I wouldn't say this. We know it's all "up there, in our heads!" It came from one. as I drive over fears ..........Okay. so you are driving and the tree with its tears/leaves are on the road upon which you are traveling. Where are you going? Why? which continue to goad despite their pain .......Okay, you've had a painful experience, pain goads, yes, so "despite??" faceless mouths open .....personification of the "fears" "I drove over" which are "leaves"? or the road you're on??? to horrible utterance ........... okay. Uttered by whom? faceless mouths of fears? they fall on and around ........back to leaves this silver umbran carriage .........Umbran? Or, Umber (brown)? Umbrian(Italian state)? encased in silken gossamer ..........floaty, webs, silky strings of governance .....governing what? the carriage... leading in and out ....... in every direction what it's about is discovered on silent reflection through and through .............interconnectedness of these ideas leads to a discovery I strive a breath forward in my silent splinter ...........splinter of time blown by a wind the fall of my intent .........a wind, the fall of intent - it had a summer? What was that summer like? has turned to winter and the leaves buried beneath the muted white that has come down ..............leaves...have come down or the wind has come down or the winter white? as a blessing like time to the vintner .........now we are left with an entirely new metaphor, two actually, time, which was alluded to in the transition from fall to winter, and vinter, the grape to wine guy, and his craft, and the patience with which one grows grapes, picks grapes, smash, brew, filter, age, bottle, drink okay, I see, a long flowing continuous process of changing earth, water and sun into wine - and you are undergoing, or have undergone, a similar change. So your introspective drive through your past has lent new meaning to your life, like the aging of a good wine, full of great flavor, great texture, full of its past but something entirely new. Yes. That is poetry. Tom	2004-03-10 13:51:05
Once	Regis L Chapman	Reeg- Sorry to hear that you've had such bad luck with the server crash. Very frustrating, I know. Hang in there, however, it's worth it... I'm grappling with this, trying to get my arms around it, trying to mine the ore. So pardon my meddling, my revisions are for me, to help me understand what it is you are trying to say... once we playdancesing above the surface of the earth [with] our names plastered on every little thing: what should we call THAT? [with] eyes [gazing down?] on all we cataloged and surveyed - once we stayed too long and pranced, day by day, wearing into our groove a new park or parking lot in which to play with our brand new cliches a point to prove - the lowly thought they were entitled to the provenance of the dead and kings and demonstrating teenage demagogues say all sorts of things we have heard before we hear no thanks that fill the blanks we were once too proud to ignore, never a wonder, a wish or why, nor land on the ground for a different view on [of?] this grid because we could- we did! - begin as we played around, [we broke fresh ground?] with what [we thought were] tattoos [? not sure of this metaphor], but [were] only trailers in the sky blown away in [any] high - wind The piece was difficult to follow for three reasons. I would pay attention to punctuation here, it's important to stop the reader's eye, and there are a couple of phrases that one could take a couple of different ways, with vastly different meanings; secondly, consistent use of verb tense - you seemed to drift from past to present and I wasn't sure of where we were at times; third, a couple of the metaphors were unclear to me. Finally, the concepts of "Once" as in "Once upon a time" or "Once long ago" or "Once we were young and ..." all lead to different places. I am still not sure, even after re-reading this several times, what you were trying to say about "Once." My reconstruction of it turned it into my version of a "Once" poem, but I'm not sure if that was your intent. So I apologize for taking it apart and turning it into something you didn't intend. But that's reading another's work and doing some interpretive work on it. It feels like you're trying to make a statement about the past and the changes we undergo as we mature, about what seemed important then doesn't now. That all that hype is just a cloud that some windy storm blew away. I'd agree with you! Thanks for posting. tom	2004-03-10 13:24:00
Terra Incognita	Mell W. Morris	Mell- What a tour! How does a brain do all that? Mine is just plumbing. Sending the ***t from one place to another. These are not mysteries, but mini-series, due out any day now on cable. What drug or mind-meld we'll next unearth I am not told. But, it'll be great. Should the godwood(sic) drop trow tomorrow, I expect to read about it in the morning rag, OK? And just so yer aware, I'm planning a party for all the TPL'ers. It's at your house, we're gonna do group poetry. The phrasing in this piece is perfection, BTW, and the ramble is pulled off with poetic aplomb, leaving us with the question to which the only poetic answer can be "NO WAY!" KUTNW. (Oh: keep up the nice work) tom	2004-03-09 15:51:33
Vandenbergs Love	DeniMari Z.	DMZ- An honest and heartfelt tribute to a lover and to love. I appreciate and applaud your honesty and insight into the most difficult of life's trials, that of establishing a long-term relationship. If ever there was a heaven and a hell, they are there ensconsed, they live in that holy pairing together like the twin faces of Janus. Writing about, telling about it, for others to appreciate and for us to peak under the curtain, or in through the veil, is difficult, to me, very difficult. It is tough to not come off as trite, maudlin, sappy, syrupy, or even mystycal! You keep yourself within the limits the genre can tolerate without running over your banks. If this is from your own experiences, and I hear ample evidence of that here, then good luck in your endeavors; may you be rewarded for your efforts, and tolerate the occasional pain with the knowledge that it comes with the territory. But like they say "no pain? no gain!" jealously, tom	2004-03-09 06:31:39
The Fiasco In Me	Erzahl Leo M. Espino	ee- a dangerous set of questions compadré! an interesting change of style for the haiku-ist! I see an undergarment or two blowing in the breeze of life, here, and applaud and encourage you to continue to explore this treasure buried two leagues under the waves of your sea. good luck. tom	2004-03-09 06:22:23
Life Support	Mick Fraser	Sounds like life in a sauna! You've grown up to realize that it's the people in your life that matter. And I love Harp. And harps. And harpies. I like the elusiveness, the indirectness, and the lines between the lines, between the slats almost. So, this works, and well. My only suggestion, Sir Mick, is to hyphenate "slat-sharing" as it is really a neologism, and not a standard noun and gerund-as-adjective pairing (i think...and...wonder if that's true...) humbly, :~]	2004-03-08 13:26:15
I Am Fred	marilyn terwilleger	Marilyn- A relaxing turn for you, for us. Very cute. Bob	2004-03-08 10:42:29
I Wanted To	Sandra J Kelley	Sandra: This almost feels like Genesis. In that their seem to be two or three authors here, and you've tried to piece them together into one piece. I'm not saying that in a negative way, just an observation. I really felt the best stanza was number 3. I have some reservations about the use of the line "I wanted to..." Another poet used the ellipsis here recently, and for some reason I just don't like it. It seems cheap and I never see accomplished poets using it. Maybe that's it. It's a novice's way of achieving something she thinks she needs. I don't think you need it. The finalé is wonderful, a great turn of the truth. Let's go through the piece and see if we can tidy it up: Alone in darkness with cool air and cooler satin sheets surro[u]nding me, [I] listen[] to the hum of tires .......I'm a big fan of the active voice on pavement[,] [] of the night insects[;] I think of you[, t]he warmth of your body, the [] stub[b]le [ ] abraid[s] my face, shoulder, neck. And, those few precious evenings when I listened to you read poems about your father and[] you standing there with half-mad eyes and tumbled hair-sometimes wearing a torn tee shirt, leather tie and soccer cleats. In those moments, I wanted to - [I think the dash is much more acceptable if you want to break the train] That [single is implied by "That"] afternoon in your arms I (supposedly) learn[ed] to extricate myself from [your hold,] [] instead, learn[ed] the feel of warm flannel on my cheek, your rhythmic beathing, [my lust???]. Learning about fire. Endless finite mornings coming awake seeking [] pens and pale-lined paper, I wrote poems about [?] Ontario and trees, storms blowing themselves out. All of those mornings, I wanted [-] I wanted to tell you the truth: I never [expect??]ed you to believe me. see what you think. tom	2004-03-08 04:22:54
Ego Trip	Sergio M chavez	I, for one, believe that you will return. You will return because, like me, you want to be heard. And here you are heard and responded to by sentient beings. Whether your "blabbering" is that or Poetry only time will tell, but there is something important happening to you and for you when you exchange ideas with another caring being. If you do leave, I would strongly encourage you to continue writing. In that process of reflection, and for you self-reflection is a popular theme, painfully slow processes are turning your eyes to those corners that need attention. Best wishes to you. tom	2004-03-02 08:10:22
Just Like You	Mick Fraser	mick The tenor of the piece is respectful and appropriate for a eulogy. This is more of a prose poem than anything else, as there is little metaphor. The ending is a bit unclear to me though. There is no "left pulmonary valve." Either you are speaking about the left pulmonary vein (there are two as they enter the back of the left atrium) or the left pulmonary artery - but a "perforation" in either case is nearly immediately fatal, and often the cause of death in deceleration injuries like car accidents or snow-mobile injuries and the like, where a body in motion is suddenly stopped against an immovable object which causes a tearing of a major vessel in the chest as the heart and great vessels are suddenly torqued - so I'm not sure what you're referring to. It would be helpful if this were corrected, or clarified, as the piece does not settle into a reasonable conclusion for me until that happens. Otherwise, I have no suggestions or concerns with what comes before that last line. sincerely, tom	2004-02-29 10:41:33
I Have Memories	Sandra J Kelley	What I Remember I do[remember] being alive [] sunlight touching my skin [] burning memories [] cool water lapping [] my ankles as we stroll[ed ] the beach arguing about latex memories of []my heart beating deep breathing sweat []yet I remember nothing not the sound of your name [n]or the stretch of my throat as I spoke it - I do not remember the brush of your hand in my hair the warm flannel covering your chest the gentle suck of your teeth as your breath filled my ear the rythm we created movement []entangled I remember - no - nothing else	2004-02-29 10:23:11
What Gives?	Michael J. Cluff	MJC- Where do we go from here? tom	2004-02-28 06:57:50
japanese verse 21 to 40 - Second Collection	Erzahl Leo M. Espino	ee- A very impressive collection, thank you for taking the time to put it together for us. I like Amnesia, but, again, I oppose the title and would prefer that you leave that title for a piece that actually addresses the issue of Amnesia, which 'losing track of time' does not. But HEY, it's your brain! and your Poem! So screw you Wright! Right? Right. Twilight interests me due to the 'scandalous' appellation of the sun's light. And Camel is interesting in the use of hills. I find the alliteration in some a bit overdone, but these are very minor points, overall your work is very thought-provoking and clearly full of intense mental energy. Way too much work for a small mind like mine to enwrap! Kudos to you éé- Master of the Form.	2004-02-28 06:57:06
Senryu 135	Michael J. Cluff	I half expected Batman to jump out of the Browser and stun me with a Bat Projectile of some sort...I did not like Robin either, so I am glad that Chris finally got the revenge he deserved after she wasted those perfectly good P Diddy tickets on a Boston Cream Pie and four baggies of white powder. So, what're ya gonna do? Beige and Tan: nice color scheme for a white guy.	2004-02-26 14:27:49
saturday	Erin E Roland	Hi Erin- I really liked these lines: eventually I´ll grow tired of fabricating memory to sustain emotion sustain the hope, be patient. Well done. tom	2004-02-25 05:03:40
10:26 Revisited	Sandra J Kelley	Sandra - Really nice. I love the sentiment. Then - Now that touch has never felt anything but great on the small of your back. I have just a couple of little tweeks to suggest. They are not critical. They are just sound-changes: Blue black sheen [] sky Hangs [] a curtain around us Peirced [only by] a sprinkling Of stars, and under our feet cool but not yet damp grass too is a shade of black where there is so little Light yet here your hand warm Against my back is solid The wind makes everything [] Undulate[?]. And again your hand Is the only warmth. The clock In the heart of town just Visible from the hilltop Proclaims 10:26. A time That has not changed in years. Just playing with your piece a little. Anyway, this is a keeper, a great tender piece. thanks for sharing it. tom	2004-02-22 22:11:28
east ore	Erin E Roland	I assumed after several readings that Kimberly was a type of peach and not a peach of a girl. I did a search: it's a peach named after the area around Kimberly, Oregon http://thomasorchards.com/about.shtml and through it runs the North Fork of the John Day river. I don't know if you intentionally spelled "county" c-o-u-n-t-y or if you meant to say "John Day/ countRy, because the county's name (in which this Kimberly, OR is planted is in Grant County (I think). WHo was John Day? Some guy who was stripped of all possessions and clothing by the natives near this river in Oregon. He was on an outing to establish a trading post or something like that in the area of the Columbia River. So you're saying that you're mining the eastern "ore" a gold that hangs in trees, is eaten and can be reached with a ladder, and that this ore is like any ore, gotten of hard work, and from a land you'd probably not visit if it weren't for the ore...ministers, marshalls and old men. So you must be young and full of piss and vinegar, working at menial jobs, like picking peaches in the summer, waiting for your next chance to be with your Mate under the light of the mooon - and perhaps the love that you seem to emit here, like the moonbeams as she rises in the East, another ore, can be mined at a later date. Best wishes and welcome to TPL. tom	2004-02-20 13:05:43
untitled	Erin E Roland	Hi- Interesting piece. Are you twins? Odd punctuation. Part of the twist? red gold? Bloody twisted... tom	2004-02-20 12:40:14
Closer to Far Away	Joanne M Uppendahl	Hey- I saw this picture, too, and thought, 'HMMMM. wonder if Joanne is going to see this...?' Love this stuff. Nice work. tom	2004-02-17 18:26:15
japanese verse 40 (Petals)	Erzahl Leo M. Espino	Hi ee- chastity? wow. i didn't know that. I would say: Once an Ancient Bride Marriage tears HER tattered gown On Modernity! ta	2004-02-14 11:27:44
Down The Mountain	Regis L Chapman	I find the language stilted and unlike the feeling of freedom. I would search for that in this piece in which you append the impetus for its birth. The feeling should be that the words run from the tongue and teeth as water from the spring. There are poems in which stilted language is useful and necessary. I find this one not of that theme. I find the first three lines difficult to penetrate. The rest is Okay, but you lost me at the start. The multisyllabic words "beholden" and the phrase "proceeding in encrusted..." have to many syllables that sound the same; this slows the reader down. If your imagery had been a bumpy ride down the mountain, then I could accept those lines. You indicate smoothness, serenity, peacefulness. The concepts are there. The execution needs work. Tom	2004-02-13 19:20:15
Senyru 132	Michael J. Cluff	Thus I wear the bolo and chaps no veil beneath a copse of palms a cool drink all i desire.	2004-02-13 19:12:35
Neuter Allegiance	Mell W. Morris	As wonderful a personal stance as I've ever read. I would consider changing "except" to "but" and "caste" to "cast" except that caste is not a cast and but is only an abuttment. In the spirit of the times I will leave the politicking and the religionizing alone. I don't have the balls or the energy to show all my low cards. Whitless in TwinTown	2004-02-13 19:11:22
Truth	Rachel F. Spinoza	I am certain that our discourse will engender nothing more than drummer boys beating worn out drums in rhythms old, march steps well understood. Your efforts and sincerity are much appreciated, and clear in this fine work. Shalom. t.	2004-02-11 20:09:54
Then I'll Dance With Dragonflies	Joanne M Uppendahl	Jo- You will dare, I trust. The exodus of warblers...do they go to San Luis Obispo? Or Mexico? Keep 'em comin' girl. tom	2004-02-11 13:53:27
One Just Bell	Rick Barnes	Rick- How timely. Thank you. Well said. Could I use this? Is it heavy? Is it sharp enough to penetrate thick hide? I may try. Tom	2004-02-11 13:50:55
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