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Below you will see ALL of the Critiques that Debbie Spicer has given on The Poetic Link.
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Click HERE to return to ThePoeticLink.com Database Page!Displaying Critiques 1 to 41 out of 41 Total Critiques.
|Poem Title||Poet Name||Critique Given by Debbie Spicer||Critique Date|
|You Are Not Him||Rene L Bennett||Wow, Rene! Who knows if this is you or someone you know or even just the practical application of a person's in-depth emotions of being in a dark relationship. It might even be a couple where one has changed and grown while the other stays stagnant. The words are suspended in the quiet breeze of the night. I can picture a personâ€™s thoughts penetrating their being yet unable to communicate these intense known thoughts. Can this person go on and survive? The true torment of the relationship and one in which this person needs to be free from is evident. The expression wells up from the core and this poem is truly powerful. I like the way it is written as it is one that is direct, strong, and intense. Thanks for being able to express what I am sure, some feel when they know what lies out there for them, yet they canâ€™t touch. Debbie||2008-10-27 18:37:45|
|Love Tide||marilyn terwilleger||Dear Marilyn, It seems as though you have a new depth to express thoughts, emotions, and love. I know you have gone through so much and it has enabled you to express yourself in a deep and inspiring way. The intense voice with the use of profoundly rousing avowals make my skin shiver. I can see emotional and spiritual love of longing here and each line brings me to the wonder of this love. I was truly moved by this poem and clearly believe it is wonderful. Thank you so much for sharing thisâ€¦ With love, Debbie||2008-02-06 12:59:55|
|Within a Moment...||Mary J Coffman||Dear Mary, What a marvelous, intriguing, and tantalizing poem! I could barely catch my breath as I read it over and over. I was so deeply touched by the nature that bears the soul from the depths of this time of love. You were able to bring out the passion in the essence of expressions with each stanza. Drawing out each line separated by a short â€œshapeâ€ brings this reader to only hope to find the next. This is wonderful and it touched my very soul. Thank you for sharing this wonderful piece! My very best, Debbie||2008-01-28 23:56:13|
|When Love Is Not Enough||marilyn terwilleger||Dear Marilyn, Oh, the depth of this lovely but emotional poem. Each line is filled with such passion of person, I held my breath as I went on. I was amazed how you could express each line as if it was held by grace in the air! The continuing spirit goes from stanza to stanza. It blends so well and grabs at the heart. I can just see the â€œpersonâ€™sâ€ each step in the clouds, the dew, the leaves, and sky. The air, so hollow, and then the moon. Shadows bring me to a heartfelt pace and the rose says it all. This is beautiful and so well written. I will have to say it is one of my favorite always. You are so talented!!! With love, Debbie||2008-01-28 23:48:00|
|Melancholyâ€™s Finale||Kenneth R. Patton||Dear Ken, A beautifully written piece and one that touched me. It seems not matter about the â€œlengthâ€ of a poem, but itâ€™s amazing ability as how it makes the reader see the depth of what it says. I certainly do understand there is so much we donâ€™t know about the mind, as it seems to be the core part of the body (other than the heart), which remains such a mystery to us all. I certainly know of the mysteryâ€™s of the mind for so much waits to be discovered and most likely we will never find all. Mental Health, for us all, remains such a mystery. Yes, neurotransmitters have been found, studied, and yet look at all the millions of cases of the unknown there are. Why do we feel elated some days and so depressed the next? For that matter, it can occur within a very short time! The words you write have so much depth and such astounding questions we yet ask even in this days of wonders in medicine. I would like to know so much more but I doubt if all will ever be found. Thank you for such a wonderful take on the questions still out there. You have great insight! Sure miss you! Debbie||2008-01-28 08:25:54|
|The Beauty of Dreams||Paul H. Roefs||Dear Paul, My, this poem left me breathless. To be able to fly (which I always which I could and endorse it in my website, you have given me a view of what the possibility could be. Youâ€™re rhyme signifies what a great poet you are. I would love to zoom into space, yet I know it is all upon grace. The spinning in tossing one around, it enchanting. Can you only imagine would it would be like? I have no idea what it could possibly be like, but from your poem, I gain a new perspective. In my website, this is just what I have imagined. Regardless that youâ€™re feet left barely a trace, I can see a viewpoint I have not seen before. Thank you for giving this to me. My very best Debbie||2007-09-07 21:09:12|
|Death||Rene L Bennett||Dear Rene, I canâ€™t believe all this happened to you in that time span and you are sane. That is more that most ever would have to endure. The poem is written with such soul and even with the trauma I endured, I could never take mine and compare. You have endured the most tragic events and have survived. How can I tell you how you inspire me. Your write with Death being at youâ€™re door, but I believe life is what is going to be, as you have so much to give. I would imagine bitterness would take in, but you donâ€™t sound as if you are in that state. I admire you more than you know. Death is a â€œdoor-knockerâ€ that we never truly will ever understand, but I believe you have undergone this for a purpose we may not comprehend at this point in our lives. Death can come at any moment, yet if we fear it, it will consume us. You have so much to give, and never give up on that. Many depend on youâ€™re strength to get them through even one day. I am so proud to say I have read youâ€™re poetry, the depth and profound elements it has played just on me. You have the ability to express, through poetry, the intense heart of one who has gone through so much. I am amazed at youâ€™re writings, and in awe of you. I know many have gone through so much trauma, but I can hardly believe you survived all of this. I still have such intense feelings about my own motherâ€™s death, which is a totally event in of itself, but to endure what you have, the ability to express all of this, and know it is so therapeutic for you, I canâ€™t say enough good things about you. You have my admiration forever. With love, Debbie||2007-09-07 20:56:14|
|Possibility||Thomas H. Smihula||Dear Thomas, After reading the original â€œMemoriesâ€ and â€œLad of Sevenâ€, I realized no matter the subject, it much be real and come from deep from the heart. I donâ€™t like to reveal that I have not recovered from my past and I am walking on to do so, but you are so right that we need to get to that place that reveals all. This poem, which I do not totally know where it comes from, is deep and inspiring. You paint a picture, which one canâ€™t deny. I see so much clarity in what you have said yet I donâ€™t know what the reality is for you, but it bring so much to me. The part of the telescope enlarging the image is amazing. It comes and goes, but it remains. With the upcoming eclipse, I see we get another chance, if we are so lucky. I am so sorry for the loss of youâ€™re nephew, and I can see how your wife might be so touched to be in sorry for this, but you speak the truth. This poem is deep from you and I see know that we are spared from the pain for a time, but the cycle comes again. The pain, I pray, will soften with time for all. Very well written and it touches my heart more than you will ever know. My best to you, Debbie||2007-08-30 00:33:07|
|Memories||Thomas H. Smihula||Dear Thomas, A very intense poem for one to read and take in totally. I have read this poem many times and have come up with many metaphors, yet it could be the actuality that it expresses. The memories from this could be so traumatic that they have to remain as memories. The fact that you use the work â€œlingerâ€ at the end make me wonder if this is not a true story/poem, rather than fictional. Since I have gone through much trauma, I suppose I take poetry more literally that many I love the expressions you have painted, the smile yet stillness, the peacemaker but with silence, the child of twelve that was of so much fun yet possibly was treated so inhumanly, couldnâ€™t take the â€œfunâ€ any longer, and solidified the problem that was taking away from her fun. I donâ€™t know how the ten years have passed and where she is, but from my experience, I believe if she was loved and helped from her family and loved ones, she is now leading a full life. A very powerful poem, one that leaves you to wonder what is happening to this being at this time, and a poem I treasure. I wish I knew more. Very well written, Debbie||2007-08-14 01:13:09|
|Trapped||Rene L Bennett||Dear Rene, Whether this is your experience or of someone elseâ€™s, I truly can apply my thoughts and heart with this find piece of poetry. This comes from the heart. Trapped is one of the worst emotions one can feel, yet I know there is hope for freedom. The rhyme is great, and yet it doesnâ€™t take away from the power of this piece. The screaming with fear is totally understandable, yet dealing with the pictures, which seem and are so clear, do fade with time and help. Oh, if this is you, I have been there. At times I still am. In fact, I just submitted a poem regarding trauma to transformation. It takes so much time, power, internal fortitude, and others who have gone through trauma. I do see pain, being a nurse, when patientâ€™s come in with deep problems that many canâ€™t see. I am and can only be thankful I had to go through a horrible experience to understand what one would know about this entire poem. Scars may remain to a certain point, no doubt, but the pain deep within the soul can come up and be healed. No, not an easy way, but it can happen. Scars are something I am not dealing with and yet I can now see them and know they are from the past and I had nothing to do with this, nothing to be ashamed of, because they werenâ€™t of my doing. Life throws many blows but I believe we, with the help of God, can overcome, to help others. One will heal if they can head in the right direction. Yes, we stumble at times, but we stumble less and less as time and work goes by. My very best to you and I am there for you or whomever this is attributed to. Debbie||2007-08-14 00:32:28|
|The Mask||Donna Carter Soles||Hi Donna, Gosh, it has been so long since I have been here. I never can pass up any of your poetry as I am not quite sure I catch each element, but I love the way you write. This poem is a story of someone, I believe, who does not want to show their â€œrealâ€ self. It could be speculation of what they do not want anyone to see or grasp. It sounds if they feel they will be rejected if they show their real self. Yes, the unwanted results, which we all feel at times, are frightening. Yet others need you to see you as you are. I love the way you wrote â€œJust like an actor upon your stageâ€. Can they be pacified? Is their a way to soothe the nightmares of past and go on? Possibly they feel if they keep all of this inside, they will be accepted much easier, but it has to be so difficult and painful to continue to do this. We all have masks, to agree, but to come out of these and see the reality of each other may shock others that they are accepted just as they are. The truth is the answer, unknown, but the truth. You write so well. Youâ€™re poem flows and give the reader a newness and awareness of how we do hide from ourselves. Great job and miss you. With love, Debbie||2007-07-30 11:37:18|
|Embracing Glory||marilyn terwilleger||Dear Marilyn, Hi there, What a poem. Of course your vocabulary is much larger than mine, so I had to look up a few words to see exactly what they meant. This entire piece rhymes to peaceably and yet the essence is so very sad. This â€œpersonâ€ looked back at their life, felt so restricted and felt her life was of contempt. The tree rooted in the deepest sod was so very well written to describe her true feelings. She saw her life as horrible full of â€œdry barkâ€™, which to me means nothing felt go in all she did, even if it wasnâ€™t her fault. She describes her life as horrid and felt she was in the abyss. The stanza The walk from her tattered life was steep, tired paths filled with mud and silt. Weary footsteps spill, then in silence creep, like gray shadows that fade and wilt.â€™ Reads as if something I could have thought of before my own healing and the way you express it is unbelievable. The wording is speaking out loud to us, but to her, it is her life. At the end, as I see it, she wants all the rubbish to be gone, for she is tired and distraught over her life. She wants to leave with a pure soul and honor, something she had never experienced. And she did. Very, very well done and I think this is a poem I will never forget. Miss you and as I wander in and out, I certainly want to be back in more and more. With love, Debbie||2007-07-30 10:43:32|
|Little Tears||Paul H. Roefs||Dear Paul, This entire poem brings â€œhugeâ€ tearsâ€ to my eyes and you have expressed the pain and suffering of any small one who suffers to reality. We live in such as â€œboxâ€ and donâ€™t truly see the outside world. I mean that from our own homes. Babies, children, and adults are suffering all over this world, to include the US. The stanzas are so well phrased, follow in a perfect pattern, tell a story that will and must impel others to take view. This could be a song and I would certainly consider talking to someone about a music buff looking at this, getting the melody for it, and submitting it to one of your favorite person to see if they will take it on. I cried when I read it; I can only imagine how people will react to this as a song. Very sad but very well done. My best, Debbie||2007-07-30 10:21:09|
|Angel||Jana Buck Hanks||Dear Jana, I have been gone for SO long and had this strong urge to go to the link and be home again. You, as always, have impressed me so much with your poetry that anytime I ever found one of yours, I always have stopped to read it and take it in. I can see an angel, as I am truly in to them, traveling on a velvet ribbon, with twinkling (as the sparkle brightens up the sky). The mystical and beautiful way you express these, are beyond me. The sun with itâ€™s â€œhotâ€ pink sunset, to only have seen one of these expresses it all. The clouds give the sunset the glory we all see. The way you can illuminate the dove in the pre-night shadows, gives me chills. Feathers, another description of glory, expand one to view a wonder we donâ€™t see and appreciate each day. As the clouds take their shape, we can all see the reality of life. My life is filled with dark clouds, and the angels that glitter, bring me life. What a wonderful poem, which brings sunshine into my life. Thank you for inspiring me, one again. With love, Debbie||2007-07-30 00:04:09|
|Jewel||Nancy Ann Hemsworth||This tanka is very special to me. Sapphire is my birthstone and you are my very special friend who didn't know this was a intimate month for me. You take nature to the very element it is, all within the heart, a sparking light that many can not see, the velvet sky for those who have been mistreated or tortured and are now free, one that comes only from understanding in their hearts that Mother Earth will have her way. She is precious, all giving, yet she understands that life is a moment in ones stay here on this earth. All we experience here is momentary, yet all worthy, and the deep intense meaning of this tanka reaches everyone who wants or needs to experience it. A truly well written, to the heart, tanka, and I appreciate the inner voice of this poet. Love, Debbie||2006-12-27 22:11:41|
|Invitation To Winter||DeniMari Z.||Hi DeniMari, Some dread the thought of winter coming once again, but this poem gives a new element of wonder to how we can observe it. I love the utilization of “black lace within my view.” I sit here at the ocean and it does appear as “black lace”, enchanting, with slight visibility at the early morning view. As well, as I arise to meet the cool air, the clothing I have on does limit my bare skin from warmth meeting the fresh coolness of the morning. (love “dulls my sensitivity to your sensation”. What a wonderful play on words.) I had never truly looked at winter as enchanting but as I read this, I remember all the times I awoke as a small girl and stared out the window and all the snow, the amazing snowflakes falling, and the peacefulness of quiet. (Must have been on some of my “reflective times”.) Daydreams fill my soul and the spell has been cast. You give such reverence for this season that it give a new meaning to this time. Thank you for sharing your amazing words and thoughts in order to re-refresh my mind as to why we have the different seasons of the year, and we can admire each for their own exquisiteness. Very well written and it touched my heart. Hugs, Debbie||2005-12-29 09:47:16|
|I'll Call Him Bob||marilyn terwilleger||Dear Marilyn, I can certainly relate to this poem being an Emergency Department RN. As people come in, some slightly hurt or ill, others appear upon the last stages of their life. You have written this in such a touching way and you have brought out not only this wonderful human being, but humanity. Why do things such as this happen to such good people? We will not understand while on this earth but there are reasons beyond our comprehension. This man, as you write it, shows the strength that a human can have as they choose to overcome the obticles of life, and regarless of the outcome, you have touched him in a way no other could. Each of us are put here for a purpose and this man needed you and you were there. No matter what strengths we have or show, having another to be at our side in a time of distress can bring comfort which one would never have gotten unless you were there. Thank you for sharing this wonderful poem. You technical ability is perfect, the story brings tears to my eyes, and you are one wonderful woman. With love, Debbie||2005-07-01 08:44:30|
|These Eyes||Donna Carter Soles||These Eyes Silence becomes a silent cry...A whisper of the heart or the whisper of a lie? A wail, a scream soon tears apart my soul,my mind,my beating heart!I know I can never escape these echoes of lies and the darkness which fills my lifeless, blind eyes! Dear Donna, So great to read one of your poems again. You are so well written and you write with such intensity that it gives me goose bumps. This poem is intense and is written with an indepth insight that I only hope to capture. Silence becomes a silent cry (amazing how you can use silence to silent and it digs deep into the heart. The same with whisper of the heart to whisper of a lie...( the analogy of the two make such a twist on life). Soon the scream can be so desperate that it can rip apart the soul, mind, and heart. Now, that is so intense I had to hold my breath for what came next. There are somethings in life that we can't escape, the thoughts flash through ones being of the pain of lies and does leave a void of being able to see what we thought or hoped we would have seen before it left us in this state. A deep, enchanting poem that leaves me in wonder. Very well written, the rhyme is superb, and you have written another great, indepth poem. Great job! My very best to you, Debbie||2005-06-27 07:36:39|
|happiness||Mandie J Overocker||Dear Mandie, I have to say I held my breath the entire time I read this poem. What a beautiful, righteous way to describe happiness. To obtain what you have written it in truth the ultimate of loving oneself. Loving oneself seems to be almost impossible as we all have those shadows that seem to want to destroy the love of self. How can we truly love another unless we first learn to avoid, forget, and realize the shadows in our own life are apart of life. To be frank, you have written the exact description of happiness in a beautiful poem. As I read along, I see that one would and could be elated to find true pleasure and complacence and even for that brief moment, you state that all troubles can disapper, be forgotten, hidden and the love come completely open. The fact it is so difficult but the most rewarding moment is the fact that we can forgive ourselves, know we are doing the best we can in these difficult times, and the worries and doubts of ourselves can be gone for that time. I love the way you have written this, as if that moment is your poem, the entirety of life and it's purpose, and one I desire to find for myself. You have expressed happiness to the fullest degree and I have never read anything that speaks what happiness could and is better anywhere. I love this poem and will print it out, keep it close, and realize this is the essence of life. My very best, Debbie||2005-06-27 07:27:33|
|Falling From You||Rick Barnes||Dear Rick, I haven’t critiqued one of your poems for quite sometime. I did e-mail you recently but assume you have been busy. You’re poetry always inspires me and you have such a talent (as I am sure you are aware of) to gain others attention to them. I have to assume this is from a time when you gave yourself, possibly, completely to someone and at first, they were ready to commit to you, as they said those words, “I am falling for you”! (I fell for you as a poet long ago!) and you took those words to heart. Not easily, but in reality, you were falling in love yourself. (If this truly is a love lost story.) When two people have that yearning for one another, it is always wonderful when they fall at the same measure. When one loves, it is so easy to believe the other feels the same way yet there is often an unknown in the inner being of one another. I can see in your poem, the falling, as if there were hearts floating in the air, floating to down or up to find the connection of being one. Then, as one searches so hard, they may find their heart floats in a different pattern, which certainly leaves the other heart in a state of distress. A heart rootless at this new time may look at itself as being the only one “reaching” to embrace the other. The one, no matter what, may possibly cling to the tenderness of the other regardless of how the other feels or where they go. Rick, you always have that way to touch another’s heart and soul. I have always admired you and always will. I loved your poem! With fond thoughts, Debbie||2005-06-19 09:04:29|
|BALLET||Nancy Ann Hemsworth||Dear Nancy, What a beautiful tanka coming from a very talented poet! You always amaze me in the way you write, how you can fine the exact words that fit to make a poem perfect, and my friend, I will be needing a new book from you as you have written so many more than from my last book you sent me. The butterflies, so delicate, fly by and we look with amazement. My five year old granddaughter loves them and won't catch them as she said "Grandma Purple, the butterfly is just that, suppose to fly," The flutter in the breeze catches them as the colors of of each reflect joy and beauty. The way you describe them as a tapestry is beautiful. When I view a butterfly, I always wonder how they fly with such ease, and then again I don't have their awesome wings to carry me. They truly are ballerinas in the gardens of life. Wonderful tanka and one that brings out the beauty of life. Thank you for sharing this and as usual, I am so impressed! With Love, my friend, Debbie||2005-06-06 08:01:31|
|Between Now And Then||DeniMari Z.||Dear DeniMarie, With the fact you just critiqued my poem “Good-bye”, I seem to be able to read “into” this beautiful poem. The title is wonderful and strikes me hard, for there is always a “Between Now and Then”. Great choice of titles. The fact so much can happen between the now and the future, possibly yet unknown, you are so right that millions of raindrops can fall (along with many tears) while you wait to see if he calls. You are in the process of holding your breath as you are not sure he will call or come to you. Your love, though, will hold on until that day, at least this is the only way it can seem. A loving relationship that ends yet one still loves the other, and possibly they love you as much, is the unknown to each other. I love the way you begin each stanza with “Between now and then”, for it reinforces the “wait” you are in, the uncertainty of what will come, and yet the hopes it will be the way you dream. Life will go on all around you, you will have tears and yet you may laugh, you maybe numb, and yet you might find a new vivaciousness you have never experienced before, are all in the unknown factors. The entire poem sums up your vision that this is all in the mysterious ways of life here on this earth and you don’t have the answer, yet. You are definitely in love with this man and I pray he will come back and the two of you can communicate the feelings you have between each other. A well written poem of the waiting, the hoping, and of love. Very well done. My very best to you, Debbie||2004-11-02 11:41:17|
|LITTLE WORLD, BIG CITY||Primrose Maclean||Dear Primrose, This poem caught my eye and after I read and enjoyed it so much, I knew I wanted to comment on it. I am not sure I will read it exactly as you intended it but here it what it means to me. We all live in our own little world and we can make it exactly what we want. It can be vivid and effervescent if we choose or it can be dreary and ugly all depending on our view. Being anywhere, a big city or other places, we still carry our little world. I love the positive way you describe your world as colorful and vibrant, for that shows such a positive view. And you enjoy your little world, for it is yours to have and hold. You can perceive the big city as huge, gigantic, and to be there but you can look at that city and admire, laugh at, or be joyful in it, regardless of what it beholds. There are always both sides, our little world and the reality of the outside. I loved the rhyming and the way you expressed yourself in this vivid truth. Great job and nice poem. My very best, Debbie||2004-11-02 11:20:50|
|Dying to Stay Alive||Mandie J Overocker||Dear Mandy, I can honestly say I don’t know if I will be on or all wet with this poem, but it speaks volumes regardless to me. Everyone interprets a piece based on the voice that speaks the truth but they live their own truth that influences the entire piece, I have been on TPL since 2001, when I started writing for healing purposes. I believe the critiques were more healing than my poetry. I wrote before I was 18 but after a trauma, I quit and didn’t start back for 31 years. I am not a natural “poet”, just an everyday woman who is healing from the past and living a future of happiness, I pray. Okay, enough about me. I take your poem line by line and the first starts with your title. A stanch play on words and one I do understand for my life so well. With PTSD, the through of leaving this earth has played with my mind and yet I have a wonderful family, beautiful grown kids, and an awesome granddaughter. “Dying to Stay Alive” is exactly what this is like. I could look at this poem as one of abuse but I believe there is much more depth to it than that. A box with locks, rattling with a metallic noise, sounds as if you have been secured by fate in something other than a “real” box, The box may be closed or shoved in, thus you struggle for a breath. Where is the room to find air? Almost as if you were in something under the water, or pushing into a wall or cave. “This can’t be happening so me”! I see you were in some car accidents and this could have been you inside a car. You know it is real but you wish by any means this was a dream and you would wake from it quickly. We all know that we “don’t” know when our last breath will be, And being locked away, where taken by someone or lost in a box, as you describe, would be terrifying. The thought and knowledge that this may be it is overwhelming, This could also relate to a child of abuse, shut in their own box, unable to express there greatest fears because of the repercussions they have been told they would receive. Regardless, this one is innocent and life is in a major turmoil. The “boiling inside” with anger seething sounds more like abuse, but one can be upset at being in an accident and rarely is that totally forgotten, There is turmoil in just not knowing if one is going to live, why did this happen to me, how do I get out of here alive? I could have written the next part, which is excellently portrayed: "The turmoil within As memories ravage my brain I find it ironic That I seek a dark place As comfort from darkness inside Memories of cages Remembrances of boxes Buried alive Left to die Nothing can save me No comfort suffices To bring solace to an abandoned soul Lost in the darkness Grasping for breath Desperately clinging to life Dying to stay alive" All of this pertains to my experiences and you have written it in such depth with such great words. Then again, you speak of the “twisted play on a mind so young”, thus I go back to abuse. This person wants so desperately to live, to not remember anything, to have a clean new life, that they are “Dying to stay alive”. The torture could be from the accident but I feel this poem portrays aspects of both. An in depth, unique, soul searching poem. I lived it but you certainly may have or know someone who has in the same or different manner. Very well written and very the elements of the spirit, of God, the eternal rest, the peace one can finally find, Abandonment, neglect, invisible scars, cruelties, torture, manipulation, games, terror pounding voices, this all brings me back to a great suffering we don’t wish on anyone, oh the memories are enough to bring one to “death becomes her once more”. What a poem and what depth. I will remember this one and I know “ghosts” live on from time to time. My very best to you, Debbie||2004-10-20 19:44:07|
|Sighs of Autumn||marilyn terwilleger||Dear Marilyn, Oh can you ever write! You amaze me in the way you can articulate with words to make me feel I am right there. The title is so good and right on with everything rushing towards it in the poem. At first I thought it said “Signs of Autumn” but soon I discovered it was “Sighs” which gave it such a gracious meaning. The tulip bulbs have now laid to rest, once giving their color and boldness during a warm summer, now to hibernate in the earth until spring comes again, once more. The wonderful way you express this is way beyond my abilities and I am so impressed. As your spade reached into the soil the autumn sighs breathed out to tell all. The leaves, now of changed color, falling from the trees and bushes all around are sighs of autumn being here as well. One of my favorite lines is “Ghost life rusty leaves rustled”, oh does that speak of the true flavor of autumn. The wind’s breeze swoops these leaves and tosses and turns them as swirls in the autumn air. I as well love the line “The once sanguine (confident) sun paled” for now the sun has taken back seat to the upcoming weather. In fact, I love the entire poem so how am to pick the special lines in the stanzas for me, when the entire poem speaks so loudly yet with strength and softness. You are truly a poet and I love your work. This poem needs to be published as “the sigh” is here as I note of my backyard. Such a great job and with such abilities. Wonderful! With much love, Debbie||2004-10-18 13:18:32|
|Mantles||Andrea M. Taylor||Hi my Dear Andrea, Here you are working full time, your surgery is coming up, yet you can write amazingly as well. You are a woman of many talents. Mantles - the covering or layering, the veil, which envelops. What a beautiful way to title this. The leaves are there (many, many in my backyard) are weighted down in layers and plenty due to the impending change of seasons. The leaves overlay all of what summer produced, the flowers and foliage now folding away, seeds laying quietly until the dawn of spring. The last line (and they all flow within the rules), is the wait, the knowing of winter yet wondering when it will fully come to coat the entire view. A wonderful way to bring in winter in the view of beauty and not fear. I love this as I do all your wonders, and thank you so much for posting it for me to enjoy! With much love, Debbie||2004-10-17 21:43:21|
|Willwind||Regis L Chapman||Dear Regus, How wonderful a poem to read and see flow in the essence of a way your life is taking you. Willwind – wow – what a title. I see strength of will as well as the breeze of the wind folding together to bring one tall position. The wind blows and if down, it draws one to an upright position if the stem is long and strong. A new beginning or one started once again, just a seed to be nourished by the sun. A flower with a fragrance that climbs up into the air without taking heed. As the flower blossoms, it strains to reach the sun, as if a transcending tower. Yet in this process one must remain adaptable for a stiff and hardened stem can be broken. The flexibility is necessary for all the turns and corners life takes. In this in-depth and well written poem you include the essence of mother nature by speaking of the sun, rain, wind, and hurricane. These can be the metaphors of life, which we must endure to make it to the tower of our spirits. I loved this poem and I a may be all wrong in my own interpretation, but it leaves me with a peace, a promise, and a feeling of tranquility. Thank you for sharing this piece. My very best, Debbie||2004-10-17 21:23:18|
|Amethystine Mists||Jana Buck Hanks||Dear Jana, I remember this poem SO well for I loved it, possibly didn’t understand it totally, but I remember critiquing it a few years ago. Wish I still had that critique because I may see it in a totally new view. I remember it was long but I loved each stanza, attempting to figure out what you meant in each one and most likely flubbing up as I went along! Ha! I see the sleep, the warm and thick blankets pulled up around a person when it is cold out. I can visualize the charms, the dangling, the sparkles of the dreams you are going to have. (I love to live in my glass ball in order to see what I desire to view.) The purple and pink hews make one awestruck and the entire dream is enticing. I remember the owl, that was stirring with the willow wand and I can’t for the life of me remember what metaphoric state I felt it was. All I know is you have the most intensely way to formulate a beautiful poem, to make me have goose bumps as I read, and this entire poem did this to me. I see one in space visualizing globes, colors, sparking lights, which the normal person will never stop and take time to view. It is pure magic and glory to see all of this and take it in. Possibly this is what the fetus can view from the inside of the womb, not to see the awful things of this world, but to see the glory of being held so close wrapped in such warmth. At times I wonder what that “trip” was truly like and you describe it so well, as I marvel at the way “you” are able to see. I loved this poem and always will. I believe I asked you last time to describe what you, in actuality found on each stanza or in a sentence of what it meant to you and I can’t remember. Beautiful work, as you did then and as you do now! I miss you, my friend. Write me sometime, I am at email@example.com now and my website is ptsdhealing.com. You take good care of yourself and thanks for allowing me to re-read this beautiful poem! With love, Debbie||2004-10-17 21:05:52|
|Congress This Morning||Mell W. Morris||Dear Mel, I feel inadequate to critique your wonderful work and I have read so many of your poems. Jo Mo and I speak of you often and wonder how the gifts were placed upon you to write as you do. I love the title, as if you would have to get up, do the same routine you have completed all your life, yet now it has changed. You have “retired” from this and now go on anew with a freshness and excitement one can feel from the poem. The way you can utilize your verbiage amazes me and though I would never be able to find ways to walk in your steps, it entraps me to want to be more like you. You will never forget the demands, which were once yours on a very strong basis but this poem speaks that it is time you rested allowing others to take the place of that stressful yet fulfilling time. I maybe all wet but I had to give it a try. A beautifully written poem, as usual, and one, if I read into it correctly, to be exactly where I am in life. Great job! Love, Debbie||2004-10-17 19:04:43|
|Your Rainbow||Primrose Maclean||Dear Primrose, This poem is so full of ‘lightness” yet there is a depth that I see and possibly I see it because I tend to dig into a poem and find what it means “to me”. It may be totally different than what the author wrote it about, but it speaks and I will tell you how it reflects to me. It seems you are inspecting someone else’s rainbow, yet this someone is very close to you in heart. You desire to follow the steps to their rainbow but you want to enjoy the course on your way. Oh the delight you find in plodding into the water puddles, much as the delight of when we were small, and the description of the gum boots, being yellow, bring vivid pictures to my mind. The freedom of being face up to the rain, allowing it to soak your face and hair without care, is liberating and brings back the excitement of not caring what others think, at least to me. As you look up directly into the path of the rain, you can see the blue sky to each side of the gray cloud, thus you know there is a promise of sun and warmth again. The blue color may also show you or assure you this person is not far away, yet close to your heart and there is promise of something once again. The drops of water that bounce off your lips are the liberating agents, which allow you this great peace. Oh, I can see the entire picture in my mind. Since the rainbow means so much and can mean many things to each person, I take it for myself as a “promise” of love. This is my take and it is a very good poem, full of metaphors for myself, and I will have to say I love it. Great job! My very best, Debbie||2004-10-17 12:57:39|
|Ashes||Rick Barnes||Dear Rick, Hi stranger! What a deep, complex yet authentic subject. I don’t believe I have ever given thought to ashes, even though I have spread many in the ocean, and cleaned many from a fire. This poem possibly could have been about a one-time love. (I am taking some guesses here) that was such an important aspect in your life. The somber need for embracing came only after the light and warmth left you alone. Being isolated is debilitating in of itself. It is the residue that remains after loss. No color and no warmth are anguish of its own. Difficult to arrive to this time of night only knowing it will be colorless. (Why do I always go with the factors of love and loss or love and completeness? Guess it is just my way! ) In the next stanza you mention “the spark”. This might encompass so many aspects of life. The relationship could be in progress, but the sparkle of that excitement of new love could have vanished. The gratification are the memories of once was. Without fire, the color is gone. Without fire, the warmth is gone. Without light, we stumble to wonder how we can go on. The intimate passion we once beheld is now without intensity, brilliance, and sharpness. The ashes will remain, the memories will not evanesce, but the wondrous circumstances of all of this is that is occurred. The experiences happened and even though colorless ashes remain, memories will persevere. Now, as you know, this could be only one interpretation of you’re deep, awesome poem, but it is mine and even if wrong, the poem is full of metaphoric meanings and I loved it, (as usual for I admire your poetry immensely.) Thank you for sharing you deep and praiseworthy heart. My very best, Debbie||2004-05-17 13:17:26|
|By the Pond||Joanne M Uppendahl||Hi Joanne, I haven’t critiqued very much since my “three” surgeries of last July. I have always been a fan of yours and always will. You inspire me to go on, to write poetry even if I am not a natural gifted poet, and possibly write my book someday. You write with such eloquence and poise and I must say your poetry always touches my heart. How do you do it? Stalks of wild iris like green-dressed sentries greet wandering geese. Ducks glide on water cupped in pond’s upturned palms as late arriving gulls wheel and dip to receive air offerings of flung bread. I can view the stalks of iris with their watchmen holding them safe. I see it as I look at our own pond, yet we only have daffodils coming up, but if I ever get the pond cleaned out and the area free from leaves, there will be more. I see the geese fly over, as they are returning right now to the new warmth of spring and then summer. The ducks are here and swim close by, quacking as they get disturbed. The two lines I just love are “Ducks glide on water cupped in pond’s upturned palms, as I wrote a poem and posted it to night with a similar notion. (of course when I read yours after I posted mine, I was wishing more and more I had your heart and brain. Ha) The gulls I can only pretend to see when they come once in a while to ponds of Bend. Yes, they are fed very well and in fact, I am keeping my granddaughter four days next week (it will be a tired but happy grandma) and we are going to the pond in Bend to feed the ducks. Nascent yellow buds snuggle in spring’s pale womb-- a cradle full of summer with velvet sighs to come. The beginning of new buds (I truly love the word nascent) do snuggle as close to the earth (the yellow buds womb) as they can, for it is not quite time and the earth keeps them warm. The line “a cradle full of summer”, well lets say it made me cry. That is absolutely beautiful!!!! And in the second stanza, we all well up with the knowledge that spring is so close, the sighs of a warm day are so welcome, and I attribute the velvet sighs to be the pussy willows. (I don’t know why, but that came to me.) An absolutely wonderful poem to welcome a new spring. As usual, if you don’t mind, I would like to print and frame this, along with the rest of your poetry. I wish you lived closer… Thank you for another view of you!!! With love, Debbie||2004-03-30 02:11:24|
|Haunted Hunt||Andrea M. Taylor||Dear Andrea, Oh, I was so taken with this poem. It seems the real culprit is out of the news, possibly dead, but it seems no one is still looking for him. Is he the devil of this earth? Where you been, Bin? In caves with your sin Why don’t you hide in plain sight? Not behind your follower’s fight. How safe is your skin? In your first stanza, how clever you use the been, Bin. Since he lives or lived in caves carrying his sins, I wonder how he can live with himself no matter how he was brought up, how his god instructed him, he was the helper and owner of killing thousands of innocent people. I wouldn't feel safe in his skin or may I say, I wowould never want to be in his skin. Your rhythm and rhymes are seducing to the reader as I, at first, didn't put "Bin" in the poem. I caught on quickly. Taping tales laced with a holy curse Fattening the calf as well as the purse Lying in wait with a price on your head Millions of reasons to make you quite dead Oh, this stanza is amazing for that is just what he did. Why don't we hear about him and what they are doing to find them is untolerable for me. The tapes that once came to us are no more, it seems. Each and every word are intense and the entire stanza meets with each line "wanting" to bring another. The rhyme is perfect. Allies and enemies can be all the same Be watchful of those who utter your name We are out there, seeking to find Rest in peace for peace of mind He had better know, as I am sure he does if her is alive. We should be out there looking in each cave and under each rock. You just don't hear about it in the news anymore. As with the last stanzas, where oh where do you get your perfect rhyming? Waged your war called holiness Man, you’re in a hell of a mess. Headlines readied without a date Fill-in blanks for your ultimate fate This is rich, deep material, Andrea. Killing in the name of their God, it reminds me of when I was 18. I get so angry inside, I can hardly stand it. Oh, he will pay for all he did in hell, there is no doubt in my mind. Where you been, Bin? In caves with your sin Too many souls earned angel’s wings Won’t be over til’ the fat lady sings How safe is your skin? I love how this poem ends. It is a essence of your first stanza, but it deeply and purposefully powerful. There were so many who earned honest angel's wings, but they left many behind for a time, sad, empty, confused. And the the line "Won't be over til' the fat lady sings - outstanding. This poem is rich, powerful, and so true about an evil, ruthless man who can kill without shame. You hit everything to the tee, and I don't know how you do it, but you continue to amaze me with your poetry. Keep on woman! I will see you in less than a month, now and I am getting so excited. A bit scared of driving through Boston in a rental, maybe you can come find me? I arive on a Sunday at 5P. Hee Hee. Wonderful and deeply touching my heart and soul. With love, Debbie||2004-03-30 01:35:36|
|Haiku||Andrea M. Taylor||Dear Andrea, What a wonderful way to welcome Spring. I don't believe I have seen it displayed this way before and it gives me goose bumps. The way the " red breasted branch blooms" as I see the little buds forming on some of our bushes and trees.... It give me hope that Spring will come. The crocus cheek ( what a unique and marvelous way of using a crocus) plays peek-a-boo. There again, it is like the little flower buds are peaking there heads out to see, "is is really spring. We don't want to come out if we are going to be frozen again." Awesome! And the adieu of winter is what most all of us are looking forward to. More light, more sun, flowers and trees full of luster, yes, I love it when it we can say good-bye to Winter. Yes, it serves its purpose, but I love the warmth and the fresh air of spring. And excellent Haiku, bringing out a picture and new hopes for the warmth we will soon have! Love, Debbie||2004-03-25 09:44:31|
|Between the Wind and the Song of Calling Geese||Joanne M Uppendahl||Dear Joanne, I have a difficult time passing up any of your poetry for each piece inspires me immensely. You have that “unknown” knowledge that many don’t now know as of yet, to be able to feel the “wind” and hear the “song” calling to us, as if “with us”. You have been through the realm of searching and the subtle delight and yes, the intense pain, of hearing the song and wanting to follow the geese at times. Yet you stay and as each fall approaches, you sit still, listening, watching, and knowing you’re God is there with you. This poem, in the eloquent way you have displayed, gives me some of you’re thoughts shares apart of you’re heart. Tell me yes, there is the real and yet there is the indisputable, and you have found the reality of heaven and earth in the blending of summer and fall. The presence we all call upon is even more real to you and you speak it as though it flows from your essence. The nights get chillier but this means to you that you grow closer to the dependence on God and the wonder of what you will find someday, something you have been waiting for and is held within your heart dearly. Now, I realize this poem has many elements and metaphors, so I may be reading something into this, but for some reason this one touched my heart, possibly it was that flock of geese that just flew over and I thought of you. As night draws to deeper degrees of cold, things seem to settle down to conserve all energy. But you can look up at the heavens and see clearer than ever this time of year. I will sit by you on that wooden bench, as I am sure Jo Mo would as well, and we can watch the weightless leaves fly by, drifting as our thoughts and hearts drift with them. Thank goodness we have a God, a faith, and a reason to go on, for there is much more and even though we do not know our time, we can only view goodness and mercy. Your poem has especially inspired me at this particular time in my life when I was but a “thread” from death and life. I wasn’t sure and am still not, at that particular time, if I was able to make a choice. It must have been God’s choice to keep me here a while longer, and then the we will find the glory we seek. I think you know my underlying essence here. A beautiful, peaceful, tranquil, and inspiring panorama that touches the core of my being. Thank you for sharing with us. With love, Debbie||2003-09-22 22:59:41|
|Untitled||Andrea M. Taylor||Dear Andrea, This is so cute and it looks just like me, crawling along! Where do you come up with these wonderful Hauka's or type of, and they are disjointed and they do ripple (something I am doing well too, and all they want to do is "get somewhere". You are so talented, you need to started, if you haven't already, putting together your book of poetry as you have many, many out there that are so worthy. No suggestions except keep writing! Have a fun day at work and love ya, Debbie||2003-09-22 00:42:14|
|Straight At It||Rick Barnes||Dear Rick, Right on! I have been trying for so long to find the deep, dark demons within me, which are mine and no others, and I have to go straight at it! I can’t depend on someone to figure out the why’s, the what’s, the if’s, the shame, the trauma, just for my life, as we have all lived our own. You face life, you don’t turn from it, regardless of what it appears to look like ahead. The way you have emphasized “straight at it”, it makes me wish I had someone who had there face in my face telling me this in no uncertain terms over 3 years ago when my memory returned. The demons can’t hurt me, I will aim straight at them and go for it, just as you have said. No therapist could say it better, God says it perfectly, if we would only listen, we need to go for it and not be afraid of it. The past choices may have been righteous or corrupt, and even if we had thought we made a good choice and it turned out for evil’s sake, we have to walk on. Whether someone things I am a bad person because these men long ago did what they did, well, it is not my problem any longer. I know that I did the best I could, made the most worthy choice I could, and yes, I paid dearly, but now it is time to get with it, go forward, go straight at it and them. The vision of others should never blind ourselves, for we all come out with versions that seem to fit what we want. Just in this poem, you maybe speaking of many different aspects of life, but to me, you speak with power, wisdom, command, and tell “me” to go straight at it, go for it, it is my decision and no others, and I can drive the demons away. You told me that many years ago, but I couldn’t hear you and now I can hear you loud and clear, at least for my version of what I hear from this poem. Our lives were planned before time and now I can use bad for good, and as I continue to grow in wisdom, I will realize that it was you that said these cherished and forcefully written words to give me the power to go forth. It is all in our OWN DECISION! RIGHT? GO STRAIGHT AT IT, BRO! Thank you for your mighty voice, and I chose this poem to be mine, even if someone else does as well, for it is MY DECISION! Right? Love ya, Debbie||2003-09-22 00:38:56|
|God is in His Glory||Claire H. Currier||Dear Claire, A poem is many times a gift and this one is for me. In my weakened state, I find the glowing miracle in your poetry. God has become closer and closer to me in my walk of healing and what would I have done without you, and those to encourage me to hold His hand. He wakes us and we need to stop….LISTEN…to the glory of His world and all His works. You wrote this first stanza to get our attention, to stop of us just roaming on, to help set up the stage. Then you go on to tell us to “take it easy, stop in the moment, and listen, smell, breathe…” oh what more could we ask for each day as we rise. We forget so easily and run amuck in our ways, and forget to take in the glory of the moment. That one huge cleansing breathe can take our day to one of fury or one of peace. And even if fury should come our way, we have peace through it because we took the time to look unto Him, to guide our way. In the next stanza, you don’t actually have to be in a “meadow” to be in a Meadow, for we can be in the meadow of God’s mind. The birds fly in, singing songs of joy, the deer, the moose, the rabbits, and chip monks, the butterflies, and on and on. I can see it clearly, if we would only sit back and allow it to sink in before we start our busy days. Oh, it feels so good! I wonder why we take these things for granted? Do we love to torture ourselves? Ha! I loved the way you portrayed the entire story with all the animals you used in this beautiful story. Then you come from the East, where the sun does rise! The shimmer and glimmer we can view, if only we take that moment to stop and look. The stanza “Now as the sun rises in the East Angels descend to the West Bringing forth the harmony we hear And each little voice Joins the chorus Singing Praise and Glory to God” Is a treasure in of itself! To speak these words of joy brings me to know that you know the true God, the one that we know and He surpasses all understanding. This little story is really a huge reality of what God wants for us, the angels are here for us, and it makes me stop and listen, look, and breathe. What a wonderful poem you have here. Treasure it, as I certainly do. Wonderful! With much love, Debbie||2003-09-21 18:45:24|
|Home Town||marilyn terwilleger||Dear Marilyn, Oh, how this poem brought forth the tears, which I attempt to hold back these days. This is an absolutely beautiful story of a boy, who grew up in a small hometown, to go out to war and lose his life. But in it, all was not lost and I see more hope than I see loss. You write as I only hoped I could but know I never would be able to express something this touching and intimate as this. You write of his time, growing up with rivers and stores, breathless landscapes of rock mounds, sheltered from the evils of this world. He knew the love of family and friends and the gentleness of having a close knit town an one that holds him up with love. All knew all and everyone supported each other. One line that jumps out at me is “sheltered from snags of the world, carefree, peaceful, devoid of fear.” I don’t believe I ever knew that, even though I lived in one town for most all of my life. It brings me peace and well being to read these lines. Yes, he had to go off to war, to that unknown place filled with impediments, lies, and obstacles. How could this young man get all of this off of his mind as he lay down, dying on foreign soil. What a beautiful picture this young man had, even though the worst happened to him. He could view in his inner being the peace and love, the beauty and calm, of his own hometown. He wasn’t lost in the hell any longer, but found the peace that passes all understanding. Marilyn, you captured a wonderful dream and known entity of one who has had the love and support, the hopes and dreams, and even though so very sad he wasn’t able to fulfill them on this earth, he did everything he was suppose to and died in peace. I had better quit writing or I will keep crying, but you amaze me with your poetry and your heart. It feels good to get back to TPL and I hope I can stick around for a time. I love your poetry and always will. I have a binder named “MARILYN”. I hope that is fine with you. I have missed you! With love, Debbie||2003-08-21 01:47:08|
|An Immodest Request||Rick Barnes||Dear Rick, You are so talented and amazing with your poetry, as with your life. I know how well liked you and your poetry are and one only has to read it to know the depth of your soul. Oh, to see the concealed places while displaying that one wants to reveal. What a beautiful way to want to know someone from the inside out, as well as the outside in. All of us have hidden territories and to reveal these is almost the epitome of self. As well, the rhythm is excellent, not labored or forced, but flowing. You ask for something and yet you want to give. (At least this is what I feel by reading your words.) The places don’t have to be that of the physical, but a new opportunity to see the special places of the heart. While pondering there, you will find new truths and revelations of this one. We can always “wonder”, but to actually wander to places not revealed often, would be and is a divine manifestation. Again, your rhythm continues to flow as the warm waters of fall. In your quest and while you ask, you are actually ready to bestow and I feel it deep within. Each of us have our enigmas and they are not easily released to just anyone. And to close this beautiful, inspiring, and enticing poem, you take the ultimate with the quest of asking for both hearts to be side by side where desire lays, and for the ultimate gift, in that of you. Rick, another extraordinary poem, which gives me chills from head to toe. You are truly a remarkable person and poet. I hope all is well with you and hope you know how inspiring your poetry and friendship are. My best, Debbie||2003-08-21 01:30:51|
|After The Rain||Nancy Ann Hemsworth||Dear Nancy, As you well know, you’re poetry always impresses me beyond belief. These are not just words to make you “feel good”, but I know you put more of “you” into your poetry, your brilliance, and your style, which lends to a wonderful piece. I am not sure I will even do this poem justice as it is so intriguing, but I am going to give it a good shot. You just amaze me, so let me try! The rain brings on so much to so many! It brings water to the thirsty earth, green to the brown lands, and life to all of us. As rain can bring so much good, it also can bring hardship and a saddened spirit. We can view rain in so many aspects and many times it depends on our mood, but at times it depends on what it leaves. Is the air freshened? Is there tranquility after the rain? Or did the rain destroy and terrorize the land and the living? I see in your poem it didn’t leave the earth with kindness and it caused even the crows to cry and fly in furry! (I love that line!) fly, fevered, furry – WOW! The lands are now left with gloom, so tattered and nothing looks peaceful, yet that is the nature of it all. The metaphoric value of this entire poem may not be totally discovered by me, but it has a depth that I am attempting to find the exact meaning you had in mind, and I am not sure I know. I know what it means to me, and that is the wonder of poetry. Each puddle had it’s own ambiguous feature, and they could leave one puzzled. This rain was one that makes me shiver for there is so much it caused, creates, and reminds us of, and it can come back to find the wounds of our soul. At times, we just can’t control our fears and thoughts, and in this poem, I feel it is one of those times. The demons can lie in wait but they can’t stay if we don’t allow them too. Reality can be so contorted but thank goodness we have a God that brings peace to the soul. An amazing poem and one I am not sure I have grasped entirely, but I love it and it touches places in me I can’t even explain. Wonderful trine poem, and I didn’t even know there was such a poem before. You keep teaching me and I keep learning. I will add this one to the book of poetry I have from you. Write soon and I will write you a long e-mail and tell you what is going on. I sure do miss you! With love and respect, Debbie||2003-08-13 01:45:22|
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