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


Thomas Edward Wright's Profile:
My mom made me practice the piano and learn to type during the summer of '67. My athletic and other academic pursuits got in the way until a couple of years ago when I bought a piano and found that I love to read and write. I enjoy watching my three kids re-invent the wheel and spend inordinately too much time hitting tennis balls to our two labs. A Midwesterner, I love nature, and a good beer. I read The Hobbit to my son. What a great way to spend time together. My wife and I are catching up on local history, and trying to find the best bottle of wine without spending more than $12 (inflation). That's about it.

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Displaying Critiques 305 to 354 out of 354 Total Critiques.
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Poem TitlePoet NameCritique Given by Thomas Edward WrightCritique Date
A Growing Appetite for SpringJoanne M UppendahlHey- I thought the piece would end with "will grow." and was surprised to see the final four as I scrolled down to wright this section of my life into yours. But of course the piece needs them and I was premature in sending it to the back of the wood shed where Scheffer's lie. I am installing gas so will no longer be using a large amount of paper and wood. I suspect that is good. In this relativistic world, who knows? tom2004-02-11 13:48:44
FallingJordan Brendez BandojoThis is great. Very simple statements set the thesis, create the images necessary for the antithesis and the sythesis (unstated, but obvious). Love. It ain't rocket science! Love it. tomàs no mas.2004-02-10 11:16:26
Every Poem An AutographMell W. MorrisHi Mell- First- Congratulations on your strong and runaway first place performance last month! Bravo! Second - you continue to explore this theme of the source of our themes and use of language and the inner workings of the art of writing. Your unique style lends a crisp and clean treatment here, with the telltale signs of Mello dripping over the cake like a thick frosting we have no doubt from whose pen this arose. We are all caught up in re-writing the old stories, in a dialogue with the poets of the past and our limited selves adorning the steep and filling shelves of the eternal library. Enjoyed. Pacé (see Forum for details on that é!)2004-02-09 23:50:14
Insects and Other Tiny NationsJoanne M UppendahlA very airy, dreamy, floating peaceful world you've created. Only two suggestions: Title: Tiny Nations Eliminate the duplication of "pulled apart" by using another term in the second instance: "de-winged" or something! Very nice, Joanne. perfect pedi-poem! t2004-02-09 23:39:26
Toilet Soliloquies (Fart One)Mick FraserOne for the ages. Well, some ages. And of all the poems I've ever read - this is one of 'em. Surfer_Gurl_20042004-02-04 01:06:53
Since god left Chicagohj elliotWell, I lied. here it is! I thought I'd SKIPped it, but I'd just put it on the back burner for another day. Which has arrived. So - The title: Not just an odd title, but an odd use of lower and upper case. I am going to read on and try to figure this out... Chicago. Jerusalem. Israel. Jesus' revolution is over. Yemen. god. Chicago. Since god left Chicago...he went to New York? i had no idea he was in chicago. if he was, then where'd he go? if he left the chicagoan - you? - why is Jerusalem swooping down upon you with Israel and Yemen in your bed? Michael Jordan? Da Bears? Da Cubs? reach for you: god? Yemen? again and again. good. one thing I understand. I should have skipped this one. I should have skipped this one. I should have...2004-02-03 10:48:03
These delicious aromas like foreign countrieshj elliotI was certainly shocked to see this end in war. So your perfidious turn was a success. I like the concept of the smells/foreign country parallelism. And though I abhor cigarette odors, I love the concept of smoking as it applies here and so often in film. It has a sultry kind of casual relaxed appearance - very self-absorbed in and yet drifting like the smoke... Your segue from "ripe with memories/and I" into "Shut the shutters" was clever and well conducted. You set us up for the ending with the thunder and the rain, with the nonsequitir "airraid" and if the sirens didn't call me then, they certainly should have. Enjoyed this, as well as your last piece which I failed to comment on directly. But I did enjoy that one as well. Your poetic voice and stance are unique and fun. Thanks for your efforts, and for this opportunity to comment on your cleverness. All the best. tom2004-02-03 10:38:26
japanese verse 39 (Amnesia)Erzahl Leo M. EspinoCherish it ee. It don't last forever. I'm not sure Amnesia is the proper title. Amnesia means (to me, anyway) a loss of memory for an event. Here, your sense of time was lost while you related to your special and significant "other" - I would doubt you forgot ANYTHING about that! How about finding a word or phrase that signifies the "timelessness" of the moment, rather than the "brain defect" -iveness of a word like "amnesia." OK? I like the image. I love the image and the message. I just don't like AMnesia. "Timenesia?" :)2004-02-03 10:25:48
A DayStormy D MorrisStormy- Nice to see a husband/wife team on the site. I think I whiffed on your first submission. I will try to attend to each of your submissions as they arise/arrive. I am not a school-trained poet. I may not even be a poet. I just know what sounds good to me. So take what I say with a large grain of something. This poem is what I'd call a personal expose' (that's an accent, not an apostrophe). This is one type of poetry. We all write personal stories. This is a great place for you to start. Accomplished poets write about things that are seemingly very removed from the self. See Mark Scheffer's work for some examples of this. There are poems about nature. About things. About anything. About nothing. They all work in one way or another. But, common to them all, is a language of thought. That language, typically, is one based on metaphor. The words and phrases bring to mind images and ideas that allow us to paint a mental picture, or create a mood, or intercept you at the pass and redirect your thinking in a new direction. Metaphor is so malleable, so liquid, so vulnerable that the possibilities distilled from a poetic metaphor are nearly unlimited. The goal of the poet is to craft these metaphorical references into a composite that anneals the images into one large image that you interpret as something meaningful. Unfortunately, many of us fail in this regard. Too often our metaphors are weak or ineffectual or misunderstood. We write about love and it comes out mush. We write about mush and it comes out breakfast. So we lean on reality a bit more, and leave the metaphorical stuff to the real poets. The rest of us craft prose into poetry. Which is a great accomplishment for most of us here. There are very few who crack through the ceiling into the realm of the greats. I think the hardest thing about writing in any genre is to find your own voice. To do that, you need to have great faith in two things: your story, and your verbal ability. Once you have something to say, experiment with words, phrases, images, thoughts, structure of line and stanza, etc. Play. Experiment some more. don't be afraid to leave a word hanging all by itself. everything is legal in love, war and poetry. looking forward to reading your mind. tom2004-01-30 21:46:39
A Vanishing TrickRebecca LeeOutstanding. Whoever you are, stay here. Keep writing. Keep posting. Just don't go away. someone - just make her stay.2004-01-30 16:05:27
Life in a New Land April 1947 HaifaMichael J. CluffNeologisms indeed. Twas the night before Christians, when all through the desert... What a sad story this place is. It reminds me how far we've come. Not very.2004-01-29 18:50:26
japanese verse 38 (Seahorse)Erzahl Leo M. Espinoee- charioteaser -te2004-01-28 14:14:27
The ReaderDebbie L FischerOne of the better ones I've read in the past few days here at TPL. it works because you don't try to get too hyper, too busy, too flowery, too exagerated. it is simple in its construction, but the ending goes straight to the heart, where a simple poem must go to be successful. thnx for this. tom2004-01-26 20:33:45
I Must Go Down To The Sea AgainMell W. MorrisMell, Some great imagery here, but the poem is ponderously overweighted IMHO (H = Hubris-ridden-hopelessly-romantic-idyllically-oriented-saffronite) and i have put it through the DE-Caf-Cal-ibrator and with little effort and much sincerity offer this distillation for your immediate and hopefully honest approbation. (Whatever that means). :) O Thalassa - come with me by the high tide o'er the aggregates of clouds that shroud then scurry south. blessings beckon through your rustling reeds and water sanctifies, stirs the sea within me, your reach and scope fulfill - the hope in your face - that inflected grace - infect with passion and with affection stay at my side and if you deeply care, share the neap tide, the long-waved glide - and be my love, my sea. 2004-01-22 12:14:51
acrostic 2 (Prodigal Son)Erzahl Leo M. Espinoyou're getting so far into the realm of construction that I think I'll send nuts and bolts and a girder or two your way! Looking into the secrets of the mysterium alphabetum you will find no end to your misery. I suggest a milk bath with your lover and an oily massage. You'll feel better and write an opus in free verse. I'm waiting!2004-01-20 09:00:28
Postcards to EvaJane A DaySounds, sights, tactickles and more Jane A'Day. Would that we could but fly far away, back to the meat, the melon balls the ice dripping on your flat shirt and my shoes on backwards i still don't know right from wrong i meant left.2004-01-20 08:56:05
Blue TideMell W. MorrisAt this point I would tell him that "such and such" is not a word and then amble on with more drivel (sp?) and in return an hour or a day later he would say "it is now, because I made it one" and with the right hand "you'll never learn" ... well, i've learned and so i won't say it. Nice poem. there. with undivided love. tom2004-01-17 19:29:31
BlueJane A Daya very disturbing piece, nurse day. i would encourage you to drink more alcohol. the bruising is more colorful, more often, and more deadly. dr.w.2004-01-17 19:23:14
untitledRachel F. SpinozaWell, whatever you do, don't title it "Bleu Cheese" or "Blue Fog" or even "Blue Oranges" because "Blue" is taken for this month. So I would suggest something like: "Out My Window" "Japanese Morn" "Coffee Mate" "Another Reason for Leaving You in San Bernadino" (I know, it's thrilling here, too...)2004-01-17 19:20:21
japanese verse 37 (Top)Erzahl Leo M. Espinovery effective use of imagery, ee. 2004-01-17 19:08:59
Greensiddharth GopalakrishnaIf I can make a small suggestion: I would work to eliminate as many "-ing" words as you can. Use the "active" voice. "feed" vs. "is feeding" "led" v. "was leading" .... The active form is livelier and makes the poem move better. tom.2004-01-09 23:52:37
japanese verse 36 (Ku Klux Klan)Erzahl Leo M. EspinoI have enjoyed watching the ee list of little poems grow and grow. now they have children. soon grands. oh ee, watch the geometry! the 64th square on the board holds much rice, great risk. this one is painfully true. the others are less painful. more like chocolates. this is an ee enema. ** ::) ** (this is me with a hat on!) t.2004-01-09 23:41:59
A Life SentenceMell W. MorrisProlixed- Up here in the cold country we send them ice fishing. I know this will not work for you. But I wish you well, Mell. I wish you well. Another fine piece. Very well, very nice. Ice. Remember. Antimony 2004-01-09 23:34:01
The StoopMell W. MorrisVery poetic. I was wondering what you'd think about genderizing the child after the first mention of "child" just to allow you to avoid repeating "child" twice. Also about the "the mother,...the child...the light...the earth...the sprout" And finally the last sentence leaves us wondering about the difference between "unseen life" and another kind of life, the life you've described osmically, visually - the while-I'm awake-world - is not the only life around us, not the only world in which we live, not the only important world. But what happens at "the sprout of dawn?" Are we blind to that "unseen" world? You have parlayed the day/night, mother/child, light/dark, known/unknown, life and death against one another. Very interesting use of these contrasting yet connected concepts. Life from The Stoop - a spot from which many an author has noted that good observations are made. Well done. Happy New Year, Mell. Tom2004-01-01 14:09:30
GobletC ArrownutWell spent my time crushing strangers fondling mangers praying that Visa the goddess of Christmas Present alight in a kiosk near me, and soon. Man I hate this time of year.2003-12-23 18:47:42
cleansingSandra J KelleyJust a few comments: Wordiness is an anathema in poetry. While the train of thought chugs along, it is easy to lose sight of a destination. Say what you mean in as few words as possible. Some examples from your text: She stands over a barrel, the [wind touching her hair, ...night wind in hair at dusk]. Sparks rise [in the air in front of her as one by one] she removes [the] pages [and] feeds them to [the] flames. [It seems] Sacred[, like a] ritual [of] cleansing. [Yet, it is only] a diary; cheap spiral bound paper and blue ink. She reads words in the fire [before they are consumed]. Never her whole life, only the fragments [she is left with]. She wipes [tears of] smoke [or of] memory from [her] eyes overseeing the burning. Miserly, she doles out [the] pages [one by one, as each is] touched by flame[, starts to] curl then flames to ash. Not having counted those destroyed, she has no way of knowing how few she [is left with] has remaining. I wonder what it sounds like trimmed down and in the first person. Try it! tom 2003-12-15 21:01:21
Saluting Robert CreeleyMell W. MorrisMell- Another good one from your fingertips ("pen" works better, but who's got one?).) I had to jump over to American Poets to see what he's been up to. You're right: sparse. Big holes, huh!! (I love that one...) Noah's dove went out to find land, did she not? She came back with a myth. Ok. Put the top down on the Buick and fly. Tombo2003-12-12 19:25:22
Snow * Revised into Rondolets*Drenda D. CooperNo apologia necessary, and a fine job you've done with both versions working for me. Snow is our official Season here in the upper midwest, so appropo you are. Have a nice winter! I like how you have expanded this into two verses and let the images and sounds merge into a gentle snowfall. One of nature's gifts. I am happy you had the experience. Hope it wasn't a nuisance. Happy HOlidays. tom2003-12-12 09:16:01
Snow ( A Rondolet )Drenda D. CooperD- I recall trying this in The Forum. I see that you've done a revision and so will go there to finish. t.2003-12-12 09:10:07
No Use Trying to Forgetmadge B zaikoForgetting is the hard part. We use the word as if it were an action, as if it were supplied with our energy, something we push up the hill every day, Sisyphus' interminable toiling. But forgetting is not action, it is inaction, it is death, it is the involuntary loss of memory, Alzheimer's personality disease - to forget is to lose, to forget is to be beaten. the goal is to turn the memory into an energy that focuses the remainder of your living days. never forget. but focus.2003-12-12 08:54:13
BoxesMichele Rae MannMichele- Your poem, Boxes, speaks to the emptiness one feels in a large and complex world where we all have many paths down which we could walk. Through our decisions to do, to be, (or not be, that is the question...) we fill some and allow others to remain forever empty. You capture the "largeness" of our world of possibilities by using the word "space" - I wonder if that "space" is truly "empty" though ... In addition, I think your poem could stand to lose a few words: When I peer into [] vast space I envision dreams [] that could be lost And others to be not (I like this unique word order) There is no[t] one color, shape, [n]or size[,] [using 'not' again] [but] emptiness waiting to be filled. [I agree with Mell. 'Just' is a bad word: overused, vague] I wonder [dash or colon here] Is it really [ ] boxes Or is it [ ] me [Again, eliminate the "justs" or substitute other words] One goal I believe poets strive for is to say as much as you can with as few words as possible. Best Wishes Tom2003-12-12 08:45:30
The Murder of Emily DickensonC ArrownutI love the idea here, the images, the pain, the construction or framework. I felt, as I read the first stanza, that this was going to be a tight, metrically consistent piece, and when then failed to hold up, the piece lost its continuity. I think it would be a fabulous piece if you would go back and tighten up the meter so that the piece runs like a finely tuned engine. Again, a great idea, and a great start. Push it a little. tom2003-12-12 08:30:50
Poetry (in the Tradition of Science)Jordan Brendez BandojoOutstanding. Box it up and put it under someone's tree. T.2003-12-12 08:20:33
Looks on Life- The Story from Our Side.Jennifer A CoxJC: Highly unusual formatting. This moves you way up the list. Deeply moving ending. Near the top. If not the. TW.2003-12-10 20:56:52
Establishing VocabularyMell W. MorrisHave you ever been hungry for something only to have it pop up in front of you? Me neither. Anyway, This nice little ditty from our Lexicography Section Chief is chock (is that a word, warden?) full of nuts and all sorts of Holiday candies. I am chewing on a large Brazil Nut (empyrean, very flavorful with just enough oil and salt). Next, I'm going to guzzle a Halcyon full of tyro-Dew. Thus imbibified, I shall fall off the edge of the couch and lie there until the dog... Where I am I? Nebraska or somethin'? Frodo. FRODO! Oh, god, I've done it again. Gotta go. Bye.2003-12-09 19:04:01
Awakenmarilyn terwillegerThank God the doctors were wrong! I think the ending needs some work: I don't like this one (some can) ending with a question. It feels like a cop-out. I would work to leave the question in the mind of the reader, without making it seem like it's still a question to you. Interesting story. Well written Stay with it, Mar - Tom2003-12-09 18:58:02
Life at ThePoeticLinkJordan Brendez BandojoJBB- Cleverly done, mate. The writer's block will come and go. Don't fight it. REad when you cannot write. TEW.2003-12-09 18:53:36
Missingmarilyn terwillegerHoliday Cheer: A new Widow Washer Kit is now available at WWK.com. Attach to your garden hose, fill the little bottle with the solution in the box, and spray them 'til they shine. No wiping necessary. Sorta like those new diapers, only better. Seriously, your poem is poignant, and moving. Keep your chin up, and keep these comin' !! Happy Holidaze.2003-11-26 16:09:14
Be SilentDebbie SpicerDebbie- A peaceful well constructed three stanza rhymer. My only constructive criticism is to question the word order in this line: "They have ceased and now have passed." vs. "They have ceased and have now passed." Just feels and sounds better to my ear. Wondering about yours; if you considered it. Not a major complaint by any means. Well done. Nice feelings. Like a saying a grandmother would recite to her sleeping grandchild. Tom2003-11-24 12:41:33
Tsa-ga-gla-talJoanne M UppendahlJo-An-Up-N-Doll me like 'em. Of Tsa-ga-gla-tal As Beaver Moon floats low on cobalt skies, Her face pressed close lights a path through wood, A sole raccoon stops to scrutinize; I sense her cheeks puffed out full with food. Ever vigilant, she dances toward me, A sturdy dark shape on four nimble feet Who nods as if to gloat, “I‘m wise to you!” Soon she'll sleep with ten pups in her warm den. Without fear, from dreams she'll watch us then. M-So-Ta-Po-Et-Of-Half-Son-Net This is my version. I don't like the abruptly short lines, but it does mimic the sonics of the Native Language, so perhaps it is appropriate. I just have to play with your wonderful images. Hope you take it in the positive way it is intended! Tom-Tom2003-11-24 12:33:51
The Other SideMell W. MorrisFrom the Bridges of Madison County to Brooklyn Bridge to the plank across the crick in the back forty we take them for granted until they're noticed by someone like you. A nice tight (again) piece with lots of internal rhymes, good rhythm and pace and a fine message. It'll never sell. But who the hell cares. We're just passin' gas. Aren't we? See ya, Tex. The Saturday Night Sadist2003-11-22 22:26:34
WatermarksMell W. MorrisMell very tight, and full of great verbiage, as I've come to expect from you. Hope you achieved your desired goal. interesting topic. t.2003-11-19 22:58:36
Finding HopeRick BarnesWell done, as usual Mr. Barnes. Do you need "fractal" and "jigsaw" ?? Whatever. Nice image. t.2003-11-19 22:38:43
Cats In Cardboard BoxesAnnette L CowlingPlease pass the berries! t.2003-11-19 22:36:43
A FragmentSandra J KelleySJK- Without a doubt, one of my favorites here on TPL in some time. Very clever use of a common action to make one stop and think. Tom.2003-11-19 22:29:19
The BoarderAnnette L CowlingAnnette I think the poem would be more effective without the "..." (ellipsis?) There is much unsaid and left to the reader's imagination, which is effective, in that it draws the reader on, looking for confirmation or redirection. Well done. Tom2003-11-19 22:21:41
When Small Frogs Seem to DisappearJoanne M UppendahlIt could be a prince. Or an emir. Or - I sense the disappearance of summer more than the arrival of autumn for some reason. My drive to work at 6am is now in darkness. With little respite from the heat, it don't feel like autumn yet. I like the piece. Brings one to the transitions nature keeps track of, transitions that help us count, tell the time, relate to the inner self. Later. T.2003-09-13 06:41:24
Lunar SpoofsJoanne M UppendahlYo Jo- Still dancing in the moonlight. She with the yellow galoshes and the old hoe. You see her one night, her nose quietly whistling, Ghosts dance to her tense exhalations, Stars light her way home.2003-09-08 22:34:37
Tempest FugueRachel F. SpinozaSpino- It's so dry here the lizards are moving in. Pretty soon we'll have a dustbowl on our hands and someone will suggest moving west. Take care of your cat. You never know who's coming for dinner. The Right Stuff.2003-09-08 22:22:56
Echoes From The SeaMell W. MorrisHey- I fell off and landed here. Hurry girl; bring the beer. T.2003-09-08 22:18:53
Poem TitlePoet NameCritique Given by Thomas Edward WrightCritique Date

Displaying Critiques 305 to 354 out of 354 Total Critiques.
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