Lennard J. McIntosh's E-Mail Address: firstname.lastname@example.org
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Below you will see ALL of the Critiques that Lennard J. McIntosh has given on The Poetic Link.
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|Poem Title||Poet Name||Critique Given by Lennard J. McIntosh||Critique Date|
|Herzog||Rachel F. Spinoza||Re: “Herzog” Herzog is a novel by Saul Bellows, a Nobel Prize winning author of remarkable renown. I haven’t read it or the very popular, “Augie March,” I’m sorry to admit. I say this because I read a hilariously funny short story by Bellows. It was about a married couple who were continually nattering at each other. The writing was superb, as I recall. Rachel wrote: “it pulled us clear into our minds to learn to cast a shield against the unrelenting din of times” *** My goodness, this is good stuff, Rach. This is no doubt in my mind that if Mr. Bellows were still with us, the power of these lines would impel him to contact you. It’s beautiful, Rach! Len||2005-04-23 17:30:30|
|Night||Helen C DOWNEY||Re: Night I can feel an effective personification of “Night.” It has this reader enjoying “the person’s” company, as one might enjoy a likeable individual who has just been introduced. Helen writes: “There's nothing quite as relaxing as it's gentle murmur …” *** Oh, this is good, and it well illustrates what I mean about effective personification. Helen writes: “the loneliness persists. You're not here... But I still have the night before.” *** The ending gives an interesting twist. This reader found himself saying, “I see, this is where it’s going,” to apply a satisfactory ending to this well-written piece. The style indicates experience in the craft. Thank you for posting, Helen. I enjoy what you’d done with these few lines. Len||2005-04-19 19:09:40|
|Why and Far||hello haveaniceday||Re: “Why and Far” I’ve read that poetry written in rhyme constitutes about 5% of today's poetry . This reminds us that it is still written, and can be written well, as this author demonstrates in an “aa bb” rhyme scheme. It moves the piece along at a lively pace, as can be seen in the first stanza shown below. “Tell me why and far we seem When others read our every dream Of drifting light and yellow hues Why my eyes strain to see the blues. *** The contents have captured this reader instantly. It has me wanting to know more. “A press of thoughts my meal today A gallant hound to show the way Like dreams of dreams the layers drift I stare so hard foundations shift” *** My, my, the metaphor is rich and intriguing. I don’t know the meaning, but then, isn’t that part of poetry’s intrigue? Incidentally, the imagery is a delight. “ … Or would my world from yours unzip … I call you call my name your name …” *** Here may be a clue to a relationship drawing distant? Perhaps the relationship is strained while, “…others read another dream ...” Or, perhaps the reader will never know. It doesn’t matter. What does matter is whether a poem is enjoyed. And this one receives high marks. It is gripping, and the author displays noted a skill with words. Additionally, the title is thought provoking; it arouses curiosity. This is poetry, well done! Thank you for posting. Len||2005-03-20 21:45:13|
|-- -- --what they are doing." Lk.23:34||Paul R Lindenmeyer||Paul: Re: “-- -- --what they are doing." Lk.23:34” Indeed, “what are they doing?” Putting the Son of God, the promised Messiah, to death, rejecting their savior, that’s what they’re doing. The way you’ve captured Divine mercy as, “Cascading, crescendos of compassion, unmeasured,” is luminous. It virtually shines a light upon a forgiveness beyond that practiced by mere flesh. It is a consideration found only on the level of Almighty God, and his son, Christ Jesus. This is weighty material, covered nicely in a few lines that trumpet a message still pondered in wonderment some two thousand years later. It is vivid treatment of a major subject facing mankind. Congratulations! Len||2005-02-27 19:39:28|
|The Rose||marilyn terwilleger||Re: “The Rose” I love your title. It fashions and “twist” that is characteristic of strong writing. “demeanor drooped with onerous rue, sorrow etched his wrinkled brow.” *** The alliteration of “d’s” fit the cadence of “onerous rue,” like a tailor-made glove. And, it ties into the next line to amount to exceptional word choice. [My goodness, there are some good poets on this site!] “What robed rapture from this man's face?” *** You had me looking at a personified rose until this query, Marilyn, and hence “the twist.” Fiction writers scramble to achieve it, and it’s just as effective in poetry. Good work! “Can these perfidious wrongs be disavowed? Will serendipity unfurl his frame? Only his Maker can redden a dispetaled rose.” *** I can only think of, “pure poetry” to express my impression of these last three lines. This is an outstanding example of poetic trope, milady. Writing like this helps me in the continued understanding that I have plenty to learn. Thank you for posting. Len||2005-02-21 21:38:52|
|Pondering Spring||Joanne M Uppendahl||Re: “Pondering Spring” To begin, I must tell you that I like the concrete effect you have structured in each of the thirteen line stanzas. Perhaps the ascending lines reaching their zenith in the middle of each stanza and then descending, is intended to image a flock of ducks in flight? [More likely, not ... :o)] In any event, concrete poetry is something not often seen anymore and it’s a welcome variation. “past the trees' soft caves” *** This is interesting, Joanne. I like the wording, however, cannot quite catch the image. “mallard ducks chatting in spotted sunlight.” *** A turn to personifying the mallards; Donald and Daisy? “in slippery muck left from morning’s rain.” *** When I read this, I thought of what I presume to be increased rainfall on the West coast, substantially more than the East, I understand. “Roots and river stones slip from softened earth’s wet fingers,” *** One has to be good with words to write like this, milady! Good job! “wake-robins” *** I have never known trilliums in this delightful depiction. [I added it to the long list of things I haven’t known.] “wait-a-while weather will glide away” *** Oh yes, I heard of West-coast weather being described this way. You cornered the saying nicely. You have managed the subject in classic-Joanne style. I’m certain that you will have every reader along with you on the stroll. Kind regards, Len||2005-02-14 22:41:00|
|Sermonizing Sunday||James Edward Schanne||Re: Sermonizing Sunday “Therapeutic electrolytes charging capacitors of spirit on the hunt where invisible photons are barging on unspace with an ineffable want” *** Can it be that such energy is being transmitted toward receivers in the “off’ position? This reader is anxious to learn more. “those beings of nothingness …” *** Oh my! The poet does not think highly of the “turned off receivers … “with telekinetic head slapping smirks …” *** whose body language is not indicating a respectful attitude, in spite of the good news that is being spoken. “but cold ears are plugged with sunny beaches parables turn to dreams among the rows where worshipful snores drown out all speeches a last word wakes morals skipped and then pose” *** The poet’s frank description seems to equate to Google’s responding to “churches closing!” From a literary point of view, it’s as though an world-wide phenomenon is prototyped from a single church. It is remarkable material dealt with courageously. The choice of words and writing style evidence a scholarly approach to the subject. Congratulations! Len||2005-02-07 22:07:13|
|Poetry's End||Paul R Lindenmeyer||Re: “Poetry's End “ You’ve created an arresting aura with a bare paucity of words, Paul. “To seduce the heart,” *** This is an attention-grabbing phrase, that in most circumstances would have a sexual connotation. Yet, in this poetic setting – not at all, as it’s clearly understood in a literary sense. "living, fluid thoughts, acknowledged and distilled.” *** These lines describe well how poets reach out to touch just the precise notion, and to consider and refine it, as entirely as distilled water. This poem even unfolds, a cool and refreshing quality, that’s rhythmic, pleasant to the ear. “One heart's hope, in search of all others...” *** This is every poet’s quest. What works to craft the depth of this piece is a writer opening the window to his heart. It does so with an honesty, abundant enough to bring a packed auditorium to a hush. Paul, you have eloquently written what every poet feels. What could be more poignant? Good work and congratulations! Len||2005-01-31 23:55:59|
|Cello Child||Lynda G Smith||Re: Cello Child Lynda Writes: “A counterpoint to one shining day Written upon white parchment, Precise and poignant.” *** COMMENT: I recall that a short time after we met here on TPL that you made a remark to the effect that although you’d had considerable experience in the visual arts, poetry was something new for you. Look at these three lines you’ve written, Lynda. The “p’s” are popping like balloons, and it’s happening naturally. It’s called alliteration, milady, and is the head rhyme, repetition of initial sounds, that is an important part of giving free verse its beauty to the ear. Your brush has become words and you are using them without the slightest hint of strain. Lynda Writes: “Is bluer than forgotten forget-me-nots, Yet sweeter than pearls of mother’s memories … ” *** COMMENT: Oh, I admire your imagery, and look at that alliteration continue to dance off your page. Lynda Writes: “Those solitary blissful notes From the prelude to acquiescence. Has the child felt the stir of passion Born by the song Infinite and ageless.” *** COMMENT: Your varying syllable count is another technique, adding to the acoustic excellence of both free verse and prose. Bravo! It’s very good, Lynda. Len Mc.||2005-01-13 22:37:19|
|Right in the Rosetta Stones||James Edward Schanne||Re: Right in the Rosetta Stones At first reading, I thought that perhaps you had erred in referring to “stones,” James. However, a second look has me feeling that you may be using the plural symbolically, in referring to the increased enlightenment that was available after the stone’s inscription was deciphered. In any event, you most certainly chose an erudite vehicle to carry your theme, sir. James Writes: “time will tell its minutes in a whisper sunken deep beneath interpretation repeated words never growing crisper sounding different in every formation” *** Critique: Here is the underpinning that had me beginning to believe what happened with my second look. The Rosetta Stone is part of a scholarly work that began in 1799, James, and you writing style fits the work very well. James Writes: “burns the feet that try to hold a still thought change tells the hands what evolution's wrought” *** Critique *** I love these lines to end the work. They have me moil for the exact understanding. Effort is what is necessary to arrive at any understanding that is even close to being correct. It is an impressive, studious read, James. Thank you, Len McIntosh||2005-01-12 22:06:07|
|1 (Emerald)||Jana Buck Hanks||The image of "white sand emerald water" is indeed, beautiful. Apparently it even efects the sandpipers - giving a peace they are really note noted for. They in turn pass this new-found tranquility on to the seagrass. Isn't it remarkable what image-packed, colorful poem can do? :) Nice piece of work, Jana. Thanks for posting. Len McIntosh||2004-08-31 20:07:45|
|INSOMNIA||Jana Buck Hanks||Re: "INSOMNIA" Writer: : "underarm smelled of Right Guard and Perry Ellis RED" *** The reader picked up the early clue that here was a good ol" twickle-in- your-eye poem coming up. Writer: "... she thought about counting his moonlit nose hair. Esophageal enumerations." *** Now, how is this reader supposed to not be laughing at this stage? I mean, visualize the image! Writer: "The stomach Bullfrog sang sleepless lullabies:" *** I've heard the unearthly noises coming from men called many things, but "stomache bullfrog?" It's hilarious! This piece gave me a real gaffa, Jana. With all we have to face on the daily news I truly suggest that we could use a lot more of this sort of poetry. Good work, and thank you. Len McIntosh||2004-08-24 23:13:50|
|Undaunted Soul||marilyn terwilleger||Re: Undaunted Soul "The wind, austere, pure, and ghostlike" *** Marilyn, if the diction gets much better than this it will be Poe writing. An exaggeration, perhaps? Read it again - I don't think so. "Thunder resounds speaking in quarrelsome tongue it rumbles and clangs aloud" *** This is good stuff! "In defiance of ravishing sky my undaunted soul is dry." *** You'd best package this one up and send it to an editor, Marilyn. Now, I am not one of the big guns on this site. However, if you receive a similar reaction from even one of them, send it, please. Congratulations! Len McIntosh||2004-08-23 22:15:21|
|The Counsel Of The Trees||Nancy Ann Hemsworth||Re: "The Counsel Of The Trees" This is a very enjoyable read with which, among other poetic devices, the writer has peppered alliteration. EG.spilling/shadowed, stretched/silhouette, soft/sweet, rustled/rumbles, etc. Moreover, the counselling of the trees must surely be a paradigm of pure poetry. This is excellent work. Len McIntosh||2004-08-18 18:00:35|
|Red Sand||Wayne R. Leach||Re: "Red Sand" Once again this writer tackles an issue of world-wide proportions, and does it successfully in a few poignant lines. The message conveyed by this ever-so-important poem could be missed if a reader fails to apply the ounce of discernment we all possess. The clues lie in a few select words and/or phrases: "a newborn wound; sending familiar blood to families of the beheaded; the turban white; the sand red." After the clues comes the discernment. When endeavoring to understand a poem it also helps to be familiar with the author's style. I am fairly-well aquaninted with the style of this particular poet, to the point that when he writes, I pay attention. This piece is consistent with his literary skill. Len McIntosh||2004-08-11 18:45:52|
|Heart Eyes||JACK M HRINIAK||Re: "Heart Eyes" Writer: "Be like a blindman receiving the sun." *** Here are words of wisdom. This man deprived of sight cannot see the sun, the way most can. However, he revels in its warmth, and doubltless, appreciates it more than we with sight. Writer: "With a song to sing to the black king" *** This reader doesn't fully understand these lines. However, the renowned Canadian poet, P.K. Page, wrote, "It isn't essential that we understand poetry. What is necessary is that we enjoy it." And this I surely did. Thank you for posting. Len McIntosh||2004-08-11 12:08:40|
|Tolerance||Andrea M. Taylor||Re: "Tolerance" Writer: "Ignorance is blind tolerance" *** Mankind is blind in so many ways. [I'm sad to admit that this includes myself - I'm apparently part of this sad lot known as humanity.] It would be interesting to lists all the reasons why one race, language group, or nationality feels itself superior to another. Some of those reasons would be about as rich as a rare cheese left to the sun. To be blind to tolorance is a darkness far beyond the physical; it is a cloud enclosing hearts in the wall of continuous night. Writer: "Wisdom is learned tolerance" *** Knowledge is an important step, for when it is combined with understanding, wisdom results. Perhaps a more sure path for mankind would be to oppen a book intended for each one of us, where it says, "... God is not partial ... for in every nation..." Acts 10: 34, 35. Indeed, faith in [The True and Living] God is wisdom, and it need not be blind. Heb.11: 1 How excelling this work is for it highlights a wisdom far beyond man's. The writer has my endearing applause and admiration. Len McIntosh||2004-08-10 16:50:24|
|Wakers||Lynda G Smith||Re: "Wakers" It is a poem about the "rook," who is employed in rousing raders from sleep. It evokes an interest, and curiosity. How can a title and entrance the piece be better used ? This writer's use of the language has to rank as splendid diction: "bawdy song, brackish as the rasping marsh, rookery of roughness, swollen limbed and thrusting from the brine of creation," must be what Robertson Davies meant to descibed "pure poetry!" The work exits with, "The brine of creation, an elation of sound upon the day." The writer possesses a skill of word that this reader is still strives to learn. It is excellent work! Len McIntosh||2004-08-06 15:37:46|
|periwinkles||Wayne R. Leach||Re: "periwinkles" I am often amazed at the capable du tout image in the mere seventeen syllables of a well-written haiku poem. This is one of those poems. Writer: "around my ankles the periwinkle blossoms almost overnight" I would ask the author to please check the following: the title of the work is given in its plural form; yet, in the body the flower is described as singular. Is it expressed this way for a reason? If not, is it possible it's creating an unintended contrast? It may be worth a look. Thank you for the post, I enjoyed it. Len McIntosh||2004-08-04 18:34:19|
|Lickin' River||Jana Buck Hanks||Re: "Lickin' River" What an engaging tale, well set in three line stanzas. Writer: "in the shadow of my mind. My path becomes a sandy road shaded with overhanging willow trees, weeping along a shallow stream." *** Oh my, but this imagery does lovely things toward evoking peace in themind of an older reader's . Good work! Writer: "to the almost slow motion songs of the birds in high branches." *** The songs of the birds are driven to slow motion, certainly by the heat of the day. It's pure poetry. Thank you for the enjoyable posting. Len McIntosh||2004-08-03 14:08:00|
|I Am Fred Chapter 1V||marilyn terwilleger||Re: "I Am Fred Chapter 1V" This is a riotous romp in a whimsical rhyme that should bring a smile to everyone. Writer: "She makes me daft in me head, I am Fred, he said." *** I like the way the writer demonstrates a different pathway to rhyming verse - with three occurrences in the same line. Writer: "I'm here beside the shed, where is your suit of red? I said. Me natty nymph wants me in blue instead, he said." *** Here is a fine example of alliteration working with the cadence of each line and, also running into the next. Further, please notice the unique rhyming pattern of "instead," and "said." Should the word "milday" in the third stanza have been "milady?" I enjoy the ceativity and jaunt of the piece. Good work! Len McIntosh||2004-08-02 16:56:37|
|Impurities are the Weight of Water||Molly Johnson||RE: "Impurities are the Weight of Water" Here is a writer who obviously knows the workings of the pure sport of fishing - trolling in this instance. The exacting details making up the poem go a long way to make the poem; the rhythme and strucure look after the rest. This is excellent work! Len McIntosh||2004-08-01 23:12:53|
|Trust||Jacob W Roberts||Re: "Trust" The writer "sparked" a blaze in this wrinkled old reader, who lives amid the boreal forests of N.E. Ontario. This has afforded the privilege pointing a canoe to begin a trip more times than I can hope to recall. Hence, the camp fire smoke that lingers on me. :o) This poem's narrator insinctively knows that it was good burning wood, and further realized the importance of a precice kindling. Moreover, the incident was told in a fresh fashion often characteristic of good poetry. Congratulations! Len McIntosh||2004-07-28 15:08:47|
|The hallway||Mark Andrew Hislop||Re: "The hallway" Writer: "Then those crisp jeans and Italian shoes And hair pulled and gelled tightly back, Black frame of a window into heaven, Brought you, and your paper too." *** While the narrator's heart gyrates, the author of this crisp, well-written love poem is able to reach down to claim extaordinary diction. "Black frame of a window to heaven," must surely be imagery that is about as good as it gets. Writer: "... the bright glare of you, the fluorescence That has lit up the hallways leading To every other moment since." *** I cannot but applaude this writer's skill. This poem is beautiful, it's exceptional work. Len McIntosh||2004-07-27 23:32:08|
|Water Lilies||Edwin John Krizek||Re: "Water Lilies" Villanelle is one of the more demanding forms, in that concentration is required to not vary from the appropriate structure. Or, to quote Shakespeare: "You gotta be on the ball, man!" Oh well ... Incidentially, I have never committed the form to memory, having to constantly refer to my book of poetry forms when writing villanelle. As I detest nit-picking, I will rely on the writer's adherence to form in this matter. Writer: "Can a camera capture the stillness of the morning air?" *** May I suggest that the author omit "the" and change "of" to "in?" Unless I'm mistaken it may fit the form's third line's rhythme more comfortably. [Which will, of course, also affect lines 3 and 4 of the last stanza as well. Writer: "I listen to my breath, as laughter washes away despair" *** The author might, please, consider altering the above to: "Listen, as my breath laughs to wash away dispair," for the same reason given in the previous paragraph. [The rhyming line is the same as the last lines in stanzas 1 and 6.] I must force myself in offering suggestions to a writer like this, as the work belies a skill, creativity, and experience easily surpassing mine. However, critique is what I'm supposed to do. Len McIntosh||2004-07-23 17:45:09|
|Worms in the Summer Grass||G. Donald Cribbs||Re: "Worms in the Summer Grass" The narration and symbolism are so sobering. They leave this writer feeling privilged to have read such profound work, but not feeling capable of an adequate comment. The poem itself says it all. One can only wonder at the courage required to author this, whether the writer and narrator are the same or not. I applaude this writer! Len McIntosh||2004-07-21 21:25:49|
|Another Battlefield||Wayne R. Leach||Re: "Another Battlefield" I appreciate this writer's ability to take huge, unanswerable perplexities facing mankind and reduce them to poetry. He not only reduces them, he notes the futility, hypocracy, etc., that most people miss, take for granted, etc. I believe this to be the true function of a poet, and this writer handles it splendidly. "ah, but where have those paratroopers gone? to another battlefield not of this world?" *** This is abstract writing, however, it's worded in such a way as to point us in the direction of meaningful, symbolism. The writer adds a touch of whimsy to the meaningless loss of life in war, present, past, and future. Exceptional writing. "where mushrooms imitate leprechaun parachutes?" *** The first stanza had the leprechauns imitating mushrooms. The second turns it around completely to skilfully illustate the absolute unpredictability of the violent upheaval that mankind now faces. "to where I stand – not understanding these empty parachutes and wars?" *** The writer doesn't claim to understand the meaning behind the air of violence the world breaths. Nevertheless, be implication he sounds a somber warning; he tells us, "Something Wicked This Way Comes." As readers, are we listening? I so admire this writer's skill and discernment. Len McIntosh||2004-07-21 01:20:22|
|Our Backyard||Mick Fraser||Re:"Our Backyard" I'm certain this is a symbolistic poem. I'm sorry that I haven't been able to decipher the he intent of the piece. Yet, it's intriguing and has me hooked. The acclaimed Canadian poet, P.K.Page, once said that it isn't necessary that a poem be understood. What is absolutely necessary is that it be enjoyed. And, on this bases "Our Backyard" get a a big thumbs up from this reader. Len McIntosh||2004-07-19 20:27:16|
|Hanging at Home||Mick Fraser||RE: "Hanging at Home" "not enough effexor in this world to make us all happy" *** Yes, Mick, and if there's anyone who can claim they're completely happy even with effexor, I'd be privleged to meet them. What a far-reaching look at life as it is today from the not-too-often utilized vantage of telling it the way it really is. It is refreshing, as the political, commercial and religious elements governing this mess we call world society, most often suyggest things are going pretty well. But then, I expect they must, since they're the main tools that have placed the world in its present situation. Poets have a away of scrapping away the manure and getting down to hard ground. "Integrity compromised by righteous evil-doers" *** This short phrase supports the point I make above. I chortled roundly at your ending - good for ol' Jim-Bob. An exceptional read,and hard hitting. I thoroughly enjoyed it. Len McIntosh||2004-07-17 15:24:53|
|FIDDLIN' 1952||Jana Buck Hanks||Re: "FIDDLIN' 1952" Oh my, but how I can relate to what you've written. My family hit the US shortly after 1746, [they lived in the Mohawk Valley in New York] and then to Canada in 1796 for free land, simply "nutsy-coo coo" over that Scots-Irish flavored fiddle music of your poem. I had the privilege of being raised by my Grandfather and in turn knew his dad, and remember him and the Saturday night kitchen parties very well. Although I enjoy a range of music, when I hear the kind of which you've written I simply cannot surpress the whoops and yells that it demands. You have certainly struck a nostalgic cord, writer. And have linked it with a delightful poem. Thank you for posting. Len McIntosh||2004-07-15 23:01:54|
|Photo of an Unknown Relative||Molly Johnson||Re: "Photo of an Unknown Relative" You have captured an enigmatic frame in nearly everyone's life, writer. [I know that it has happened to me.] Someone, a relative otherwise unknown to us reaches out and effects our attention in a manner that is unique to each individual. Writer, this has to be definitive poetry. Thank you for posting. Len McIntosh||2004-07-14 19:37:33|
|Crystalline Life Collage||Robert Wyma||Re: "Crystalline Life Collage" Writer, your title fits the work so very well. To continue: "mixed with stinging emotional pain that whips endless strings" *** This is pure poetry. It's imagry that one nearly feels as the whip snaps. Excellent diction. "set as stewards of direction until released by humility and betterment earned in mighty waves of suffering" *** Yes, writer, we certainly do seem to be stewards of our own direction in the early years. But how we earn a humility that in turn makes us the better for it for having faced the inevitable "waves of suffering." You end this excellent piece by refering to "the inner place where one truly lives," that rounds off a remarkably well-written poem tied to a keen perception of life. Thank you for posting! It's an enjoyable read. Len McIntosh||2004-07-13 23:27:56|
|Wick of Christ||G. Donald Cribbs||Re: "Wick of Christ" Yes, this was truly the "Wick of Christ," for he applied Isaiah's prophcy to himself at Matt. 12: 20. "I was baptized in a Baptist church when I was seven," [Taken from Additional Notes.] It creates a mystery for this reader, who understands that Baptist theology include a scripturally based belief that candidates for baptism must be of the age of understanding, as was Christ Jesus and his early followers, who were not infants or children. [Acts 8: 12] This point is merely an aside for me, for it does not take away from the depth of muse from where this piece originates. "I let him hang from the tree he once watched me climb, sang as the sparrow, whose narrow beak anticipates my soul." This is what I mean by "depth." First, the symbolism that points to the father figure hanging from a tree. Then, the genius of a sparrow's narrow beak anticipating one's soul, grips this reader's understanding to virtually staggers it. It is so good. Congradulations, writer! Len McIntosh||2004-07-08 12:31:25|
|Dragging Time||sheryl ann minter||Re: "Dragging Time" Oh yes, I hear you, poet. And what a skillful way to use a well-worn phrase, in reverse. I have never thought of capturing the joys of this minute by simply, "Dragging time." This is truly the mind of a poet, splendidly employed. Congratulations! Len McIntosh||2004-07-07 16:07:11|
|Mother Sea's Recipe (Serves Two)||Joanne M Uppendahl||Re: "Mother Sea's Recipe (Serves Two)" Here is a poetic serving to surely bait the most insensitive literary taste buds. I'm all set to consume what the earth provides - flora and fauna. It is splendid diction - delicious in fact. And, congratulations on the creativity of presenting this peace and wonderment as a meal. I cannot recall ever seeing this before. Good work, dear lady. And welcome back. Len McIntosh||2004-06-26 16:07:39|
|The Hive||Molly Johnson||Re: "The Hive" This is an astute acknowledgment of the babes of Spring that unfold new life every year. It's bees, birds, deer, and even the fauna takes part. This is well-told, Molly, and in a style pleasant to read. Thank you for posting. Len McIntosh||2004-06-25 11:59:10|
|The Desert Wind||sheryl ann minter||Re: "The Desert Wind" As I read on I begin to ask, "Who is this lady who pens pure poetry as only one highly skilled may?" The question took me to your biography that confirmed my observation. Please let me give only a few examples of the purity and command of craft that caught my eye: "mountains sprinkled with sprigs of trees," [splendid diction] "dog howls in the wind" [haunting vision] "Stacks of silos scattering barns," [brilliant imagery woven into highly effective alliteration] "Onward bound there is nothing but time and time becomes nothing." [good heavens but this is an arresting line to conclude this outstanding poem] Bravo, milady! I would so like to be able to write on your level. Len McIntosh||2004-06-21 11:19:23|
|Regret||Edwin John Krizek||Hi EJ! Oh, how can see this lady. As part of a poetic style not possessed by everyone who calls themself a poet [this present company included] you've given the reader just enough information be evocative. I'm sure that I know this lady. Yet, I'm not quite sure who she is: perhaps my mother, an aunt? This is the work of a skilled, experienced poet, sir. Congratulations. Len McInosh||2004-06-19 10:57:47|
|Cartoons||Karen Ann Jacobs||Hello Karen: A poem of whimsey, in rhyme and rhythm. Well done, milady. A fellow poet, Len McIntosh||2004-06-19 10:44:34|
|Tree||marilyn terwilleger||Mariyln: You rascal, you've sent me scurrying to the dictionary - I like that. Unless I'm mistaken, (please let me know if I am) this is a fresh, original, rhyme pattern. The long-standing structures of English language poetry has slipped its harness, along with practically every other accepted activity in society(s). I see the practice [in poetry, at least] as creative, adventurous. Moreover, this piece is well-done over-all, and an enjoyable read. A fellow poet, Len McIntosh||2004-06-18 23:36:22|
|MY BEST||Michael N. Fallis||Re: "MY BEST" The theme of this poem is as noble and timely as it was the early millennum(s) of man's existence. Moreover, I admire the writer's choice of words. Nevertheless, there are a couple of points I would like to address that I do hope may be helpful. "Bare" and "nightmares," strike me as somewhat forced rhyme. Perhaps if the line were re-worded to allow the singular, "nightmare," it would sound better. Incidentially, only about five percent of poetry written today is in rhyme pattern. This gives writers an important decision to make. The vast majority of poetry readers are seeing free verse. This doesn't mean a writer must adhere to the most popular style. It's merely nice to know, as I'm assuming the trend affects reader preferences. Thank you for posting. I enjoy your work. A fellow poet, Len McIntosh||2004-06-16 22:44:45|
|♥ Moon Dance ♥||Carolyn Gale McGovern-Bowen||Re: "¢¾ Moon Dance ¢¾" Can the magic of the moon ever run dry in the hearts of man and woman? How could that ever be with even one romantic walking the earth? The three line stanzas carry the message well, and intensity of diction is outstanding. Good effort, writer. A fellow poet, Len McIntosh||2004-06-16 22:12:46|
|On the Character of Climbing Vines||Joanne M Uppendahl||Re: On the Character of Climbing Vines I am at first taken by the form chosen by this author - interesting. Particularly so, is the continuingsentence from 1st to 2nd stanza. Additionally, I enjoy the enjambment selected in the 3rd stanza - presumably, to assist in alternating the rhythme. Writer:"growing heedless, reckless, wildly falling headlong, not accepting caution" LJMc: Oh, I do admire the writer's strength in word choice. Sommerset Maugham once wrote that alongside poets, novelists stand in awe. This writing must surely exemplify Mr. Maugham's generous outpouring. Writer: "you profligately fling your greenness to the birds and wind," LJMc: Were I not to know this writer I expect I would be influenced by what I believe to be a talent and experience beyond my own. This would be to the extent that I would feel it presumptuous to for me to suggest improvement in work's cadence. However, coming to know the individual revealed a magnanimity of chaeracter that has me quite at ease. So, here goes: "you fling prolifigate greeness to the birds and wind." [For the writer's consideration.] I feel that this writing manifests the heart and pen of a poet to suffice Somerset Maugham's approval. A fellow poet, Len McIntosh||2004-06-16 00:36:34|
|What I Wish For In A Friend||Cathy Hill Cook||Re: "What I Wish For In A Friend" The poem's title also sets its theme: Writer: "I hope you know the gratitude I have by the way you treat me, for all the truth and unconditional love you show" LJMC: The poem's persona confesses deep feelings because of the love showed by the friend. Those feelings extend to pride of the friend as a person and pride of their accomplishments. It is true friendship when one doesn't feel threatened by the other - is proud of how well the other does. Writer: "such a rare treasure and a hard find, to have such a friendship as ours with enough spacing to allow such wisdom and knowledge of individuals of the minds." LJMC: Men and women who've lived many decades know how rare true friendship is to find, and they understand the value of such abstract commodity. There is something the persona didn't mentioned, or, has omitted out of humility. Perhaps even, the writer didn't think of it. That is, to have a friend of such high esteem one invariably must be a friend of equal worth. This is merely a cliche? I beg to suggest not. It is life, the way it works. It is reciposity in action! That is the crafting genius that allows the development of one's character equal to the task of being a special friend. To have that kind of a friend one simple must must BE that kind of a friend. Moreover, this principle is within the poem, if the reader exerts the discernment to see between the lines. Thank you most heartily for a fine, insightful, well-crafted piece of poetry. A fellow poet, Lennard McIntosh||2004-06-06 14:59:18|
|Ashes||Rick Barnes||Re: "Ashes" Writer: "Nothing holds ashes together, and yet, there they lay." LJMC: Here is a philosophic statement to prime the poetic muse. This is good diction. Indeed,"there they lay." Writer: "One needs to stand in the absence of warmth to grasp degree." LJMC: How very fitting is this statement. Ones does need be beyond the intensity of involvement to truly encompass the significance of a situation.. It allows for clear thought. Writer: "Ashes. Ashes are what we find when the spark has gone" LJMC: Within this last, short stanza the writer alludes to the "spark of love," as the clue to the theme of this finely written work. For we know that without a spark, where is there hope for a fire. Good work,and well-crafted, poetry. Congratulations. A fellow poet, Lennard McIntosh||2004-06-04 20:25:59|
|The Language of the Angels||Valene L Johnson||Valene: I can't fault this piece. It flows well and the diction is outstanding. This is good poetry. Writer: "why do you not look upon me with lust anymore?" LJMC: I assume this single, long line is an error in posting? Thank you for posting. Lennard McIntosh||2004-06-03 16:38:44|
|Rainbow Blues||DeniMari Z.||Re: "Rainbow Blues" This work is simply replete in symboism. The esteemed Canadaian poet, P.K.Page, once said,"It isn't always necessary to understand poetry. What is necessary is that it be enjoyed." It reminds us of part of the definition of poetry: arranging words in a beautiful way. I feel the writer has truly achieved this. Wrier: "This rough patch scratches only the surface of life." LJMC: To what is the writer referring? It is clearly something that doesn't pervade life. This reader is eager to know more. Writer: "What's above, underneath and around it is your lucky star to catch and fill up with your dreams." LJMC: Whatever this negative force, it can be overcome. The writer approaches the task with optimism. Writer: "There is no "LIFE" courtesy counter, to approach with a complaint." LJMC: How true, is this assertion. Yet, the poem's persona isn't deterred. At the writer's bidding they intend to make good things happen. Writer: "And your star, lacking in dreams is held in the palm of your hand, while you quietly drift beyond another patch painting black and white rainbows in the sand." LJMC: This reader sees the last stanza a summation of, if we fail to make positive things happen in our lives a bright outlook will not be seen, and happiness will be as unstable as sand blown in the wind. An excellent writing syle isn't by accident. Look at the harmony of sound supporting alliteration:"scratches/surface, courtesy/counter/complaint;" assonance:"life/slide/liking." This rhythme pattern known as cadence is certainly evident in this work. I'm told it even developes manifests itself in writing subconsciously with some poets. An entire interpretation is subjective in this reader's viewpoint. The peice leaves an aura of mystery not unpleasant at all . Particularly since as it's accompanied by a word choice to waltz to the tune of pure poetry. It's a beautiful tune, and pen. Congratulations to the writer. A fellow poet, Lennard McIntosh||2004-05-29 14:16:58|
|japanese verse 49 (Eclipse)||Erzahl Leo M. Espino||Re: "japanese verse 49 (Eclipse)" Writer: "Pirate of darkness" LJMc: Imaginative, to say the least. The mind must surely dance in far-off journies to achieve this degree of word selection. [This reader wishes he were stronger in this part of the creative process.] Writer: "Ambushed the moment to steal" LJMc: The moon had no say in this matter. It was a waylay that offered the victim little choice. The writer's creativity comes to the fore again in conceiving the booty to be time. And, the reader can see it, a moment of time stolen from what the moon considers year after year, to be normal. Writer: "The jewel of light" LJMc: Oh, it is indeed a jewel, for without it we would be deprived one of the incomperable gifts of Creation. The writer has demonstrated one of the fascinations of haiku: the ability to design remarkable mental pictures with few words. In the particular case, the few words amount to a strict adherence to the genre's form. Good work! A fellow poet, Lennard McIntosh||2004-05-28 11:32:24|
|Seedlings||Nancy Anne Korb||Re: "Seedlings" My Dear Nancy: Please take me very seriously when I tell you that you most certainly do have talent as a poet. Having made that initial point, please do not be at all taken aback when I add that I truly believe almost everyone does. You see, writing (including poetry) is a craft, and a craft is a learned skill. Just as you are training to become a nurse. [I see in your biography.] Do you have the talent to become an nurse. Well, you are jolly-well getting it, are you not? Poetry is just the same, my dear. Also, you mentioned that you are rather shy. Now, here's something that could be significant. For shy people, I do believe, have a matching sensitivity. A sensitive person approaching poetry brings with them a personality trait that fits the art. For warmth of heart, depth of feeling, are qualities that I believe you will find in every successful poet. I see that you have chosen three stanzas of four lines each to be the structure of your poem. It's a good choice. Your rhyme pattern is: aabb. Your word choice in selecting he last word of each line is quite good, Nancy. It indicates a good ear and that's important in poetry. Here is an example of what I mean: " ...beyond space ... /...heaven's own place." Do you have any real talent as a poet? Absolutely, you do milady. Moreover, you have stumbled upon an excellent web site to hone your skills. There are many published poets here at TPL, who you may learn from, my dear, just as I have myself have learned and continue to do so. In the meantime, I'm privileged to welcome you to TPL, Nancy. The place where you can learn much from what others write. A fellow poet, Lennard McIntosh||2004-05-26 21:08:54|
|Photograph||Edwin John Krizek||Re: "Photograph" A poet who consistently chooses themes/subjects with universal appeal has taken a big step on the road to acceptance. "Photograph," and the theme surrounding it is an exellent example. Writer: "I stare at the picture. I sought out her image to see how it would look, the way you pick at a scab to see how it feels." LJMc: The first stanza begins the piece with remarkable alliteration to start the consonance flowing: "stare/sought/see/scab/see." The Ss are dancing. It has been this readers experience that good poets accomplish this subconsciously, or that's what a few have told me. Writer: "when my consternated thoughts refused to understand that she no longer wanted to hear from me." LJMc: A poor soul not given to the unwonted depths of hate that spite and revenge reach is often not quick to pick up "those signs." Writer: "of interest only to archivists seeking answers that do not exist." LJMc: This is extraordinary word choice. I cannot imagine this reader ever conceiving "archivists" in this word setting, and yet, it fits so perfectly. Picking that "right" word is a characteristic shared by select poets. That so many share the narrator's experience brings us back to the universal appeal of this selection. Congratulations, writer! A fellow poet, Lennatd McIntosh||2004-05-25 09:44:20|
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