Rachel F. Spinoza's E-Mail Address: vytas_@prodigy.net

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Poem Title	Poet Name	Critique Given by Rachel F. Spinoza	Critique Date
On the Round Road	Mark Steven Scheffer	Powerful images and metaphoric splendor. Up to markshefferian standards of excellence. Fine construction, assonance, thought provoking substance in this piece One suggestion I have is to to change that harsh flow-stopping word "itinerary" to perhaps "design?"	2012-12-29 09:13:39
She was shaking	Michael Bird	And the poem is shaking! Nice use of language. I can almost see her and hear the music Great energy. I would love to hear this one read aloud.	2012-11-17 09:52:54
In Hac Spe Vivere Et Mori Statuo	Mark Steven Scheffer	The world rolls on even in the event of such catastrophe as this! Yes, MOBLEME is closed - but does this rise to the height of Virtutes Theologicae? I love your ironic hyperbole. Do not despair dear Mark. We still have Babel-fish! And Poetic link still has you. How delicious.	2012-11-17 09:50:47
To Reach the Shore	Thomas H. Smihula	Nice to see your work again Thomas. I hope you and your family have been well. I like this near sonnet, especially the idea of fog resting heavenly and the trip down the River Styx,	2012-11-17 09:38:52
The Dance	Joe Gustin	I like this Joe. Nice use of alliteration. I wonder about the grammar of third stanza: "...and everything you believe in" but I know it would be awkward to say, "and everything in which you believe." Perhaps something like, and everything you know - which would be assonic with the next line's "wholly" Nice use of metaphor. Thanks for pointing my back to TPL	2012-11-17 09:34:47
Communion	Mark Andrew Hislop	"...makes me leap to: From dust to undifferentiated dust" Love it. My only suggestion is that it might be stronger without "upon two legs" Good to see your work again, Best to you.	2012-03-07 12:20:18
Time Travel	Mark Steven Scheffer	Remembered snows, virginal innocence, gentle falling regret, time present and time future; as fine a poem as I have ever read. Bravo	2012-02-20 10:16:13
Crappy days are here again	Howard D. Palmer	Crappy days are here again conservatives who still pretend to care about their fellow men and women, rally round the bend, Broken teapots, short and stout clueless, without any doubt Sing us back to earlier ages no women's rights, dishonest wages Crappy days are here it seems except for banks and corporate dreams	2012-02-20 10:01:46
...And You're Invited	Steve A Van Allen	And i am certain she was delighted	2012-01-26 15:25:25
Visiting the Old Blog	Mark Steven Scheffer	Give her my love.	2012-01-26 15:24:31
Tenured	Thomas Edward Wright	Yes. this is the "banality of evil. Every day details and shared histories coupled with an inexplicable jolt from of a shadowy madness. Carry on then Thomas. Amen (short a). Great piece.	2010-02-22 10:24:57
Planting	cheyenne smyth	Nice homage to the seasons - did you mean to say "preparation" drops? If intentional, it is very clever.	2010-02-19 12:38:42
Life's Sentence	Thomas Edward Wright	I saw it on the corner of Tenth and Lemon. It asked for you. There was a dog too.	2010-02-18 20:57:55
Point Road Snow	Thomas Edward Wright	I'm making fry bread. People are coming. We tell stories. We listen. You come too.	2010-02-15 16:51:14
Once Upon His Desuetude Rode He Into Town	Thomas Edward Wright	i rage rage rage at the carpet and the light/ and envy of the talent of t e wright. i found the dwarf asleep in my arbor, the mink is tattered from being pierced with the white tusk. we played password.	2010-02-05 13:10:23
A Gracious Good Year	Gene Dixon	A gracious new year to you too (how dear)	2010-01-02 10:00:22
Fairy Spring	marilyn terwilleger	Lovely high-spirited poem, Marilyn, "The fairies beckon spring with soprano voice" (one beat too long on "sopranos I think) "with golden hands they mold the sun with rays, and wake the breeze that sweeps the mist away." (good images) ....Their silver threads delight the rose and fern then weave the lilac tints that color spring. (beautiful and melodic!) un-ruffles forest’s plume and spreads her gown of silk, that mends the winter’s worsted gray. {love that worsted image) Great homage to spring in this poem which mirrors psing in its bright word choices and sprighty rhythm. Good to see your work.	2008-06-04 12:07:53
An End	Dellena Rovito	Hi Dellena! I like this work - agree with it in all counts and think it is nicely executed. A few suggestions: An End Rome fell, [as] America’s falling Our world domination is gone The dollar days are almost done Our television and press sell us lies [it feels like this line should rhyme as there are slant rhymes and rhymes throughout most of the poem Doesn’t anyone realize? Torture is now legalized {nice use of rhyme here} Freedom of speech closes down More police patrol our town Separated from our constitution We have corrupt elections And more corrupt politicians We must rally before [being]dismissed [As] is done [by] the Dixie Chicks {not sure about this line} We must fight for democracy Let['s] quit funding [more war] [good slogan for a picket sign!) Let[']s stand up and protest! We’ve almost blown it; not many know it! It[']s coming close to an end[,] my friend -------------------------------------------- Keep fighting the good fight Dellena. Your in peace and freedom Rachel	2008-04-12 11:42:18
The Grasping Cacoon	James C. Horak	The Grasping Cacoon (Is that anything like a cocoon?) A silk cord tying love tying it to possession Close ones left asunder for aught but new direction. {quaint, archaic and yet utterly meaningless) Of your choice, to grow to grow to places they cannot come. And who might "they" be? The close ones?)Do you mean cannot "go?" Do rhymes frighten you? Do I? Best Rachel	2008-03-31 12:30:34
First Light	Mary J Coffman	Ah....lovely from the first couplet to the last amber rays mottle tawny heavens with glorious gamboges Indeed! (lovely alliteration, fresh language and assonance here} and saffron smiles lemon flavour{British spelling... are you Canadian like me? Or a Brit?] of dayspring dew sprinkle their pearls of Eden (wonderful!} on balmy colchine breezes a comradely crocus shepherds its chatoyant silk salutation skyward {a little too alliterative} as daybreak’s birth bares its aureate blush ----------------------------------------- and a very good morning to you! best, R	2007-10-10 12:07:02
To Sign...	Mary J Coffman	To Sign... voices trapped in yearning like captured fireflies we tongue in silent winks no spoken word to censor hastening heartbeats (lovely) hands speak in circles on my breast in rose petal rhymes sliding along my edge to palm paragraphs down my stem leaves unfurling opening welcoming drinking your dew as fingertips stroke slight sentences up touch~me~not thighs [great feeling and sensual description and the allusion to the plant is wonderful] until pollination raptures sending its seeds to drift upon jasmine breezes I [lie] I know the word "lay" would make give it a double meaning but it just served to confuse me and perhaps you did mean to lay the paper - perhaps a comma after lay/lie? a crumpled love letter waiting to be spread-out and written again and again .....and again really nice work - R.	2007-10-08 11:46:00
Manhood	Mark Andrew Hislop	The strength of the consonants match the strength of the message in this amazing and evocative poem. Sorry I saw it too late for the contest. The last line is chilling. Great Poem Rach The cyclone fencing of Sunshine's gardens ends at the steel-green of thistles that troop in from the north. A railway line overrides, superior to this conflict in its indifference. Deep behind thistle lines we infiltrate following the train line, our rifle newly gun-metal-blued, its bolt slick with precision. One bullet loaded, I train it on the trestle of the Quarter Mile Bridge. My big moment: the bridge rings like my father, laughing it off.	2007-07-29 10:57:03
Severance	Mary J Coffman	Severance Interesting title that maks us want to know more. In contradiction you exist a dismal victim virtuoso [wonderful alliteration] performing in compliant concordance with the demon’s golden voice ["the demon" is a seems a litle too telling - is there a more subtle way to suggest this specific evil?] hiding frailty with force [great] you serve subterfuge as fodder and love becomes lies [ah, yes] In frantic fragments [could these two lines be reversed so it would read more naturally without losing intent and so the f alliteration would not be so very close? ] I subsist vulnerable I fall prey to your pretext [really nice line] as white-washed words and pale promises [a little ordinary] adroitly pilfer my happiness ... methodically one heartache at a time [GREAT} a surreptitious strategy to sodomize my soul [wow!] fury finds an ally in your nature acrimony strangles rational arrogance of insolence intensifies - perilously - a poisonous plague transforming rapport to reprobate [love it!] an opprobrious testament to temperance displaying degrees of perverse pleasure like a desperate enemy my love for you has turned against me within churning currents of raw emotion [don't think you nead "raw" here - it weakens the line] - feathers in a storm - [great] it’s suddenly sucked away forsaken agonizingly empty lost powerless a casualty of callousness hollow and deadened ....stars you once hung in my eyes have turned to heavy rain [great ending for a marvelous piece. Good to see your work again - forgive me my suggestions if they seem too didactic. Best Rachel	2007-07-27 10:37:38
Embracing Glory	marilyn terwilleger	Hi, Marilyn - good to see your work again Glorious title for a lovely feast of a poem. some suggestions: She felt tethered to a life of scorn like trees rooted in deepest sod. Seeds of misdeeds planted but not re-born in greenest vales now too down-trod. ["trod" seems like a word placed for the sake of rhyme as the usual usage would be "trodden" She knew the ague of her morrow’s[this is archaic] toll, searched a vestige to outlast. Winds of sin echoed a vacant soul [powerful!And nice internal rhyme with winds of sin] as she swept dry bark from her past. 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. [nice] With grace she prayed all sins to confess, dusted ashes to purify death [can one "dust ashes?"] and wore her rue like a sullied dress, embraced glory with her last breath. [wonderful ending-for her and the poem] Copyright ? July 2007 marilyn terwilleger	2007-07-25 11:32:34
Russell Means-American (hero)	Mark D. Kilburn	I did note the casual news reporting of the situation. This is a really good poem noting the discrimination of the system in a dramatic way. It is ironic when the current government turns against this Lakota hero who, when he runs for office, oddly does so, when not as a Libertarian - as a Republican. We hear so much about the rights of the unborn, [ suggest a line break here] must not include the unborn Native American. Excellent point! Just as a side note, Means himself prefers "Indian" and suggests that the word derives from the Italian word "indios," meaning "in God" and that it is a mistake to think that it comes from some confusion with India.	2007-07-24 12:28:51
Western wall	Mark Andrew Hislop	Hello, Mark, I am delighted that you are not calling that place "The Wailing Wall," as some are wont to do. I do think that there is pretty good evidence that there was a Temple [or two] there. In my opinion, the poem begins in a cadence that is a little too mannered - you might simply say, "I think there may have been a temple here" - or - "..there was, some say, a temple here" without losing metric integrity. The poem builds in power with each line. Is there in the subtle suggestion of ghost impregnating moments a foreshadowing of a Christian theology? As is my wont, I was going to nit - pick about the gender specificity of "...May have stood here wondering, too, If his chance would stand, as I do." but of course there is still the partition in place so it would have been a man that stood there so I stopped myself. [but not entirely as it led me along another path]. There is a lot to think about along with the narrator standing there. Brilliant work. Best to you. Rachel.	2007-04-22 12:50:27
It looks like a potato	Mark Andrew Hislop	if it looks like a potato and it walks and talks like a potato it must be Cheney.	2007-03-07 17:29:03
The Métier of Sleeping	Thomas Edward Wright	you did empty the trash - everything is clean and shining -- bravo. just this note left on the wall { } signed St.Ophelia anyway, Herb borrowed kitchen sissors a long time ago but it was you who you took the wisk - and won great stuff R	2007-01-11 11:06:40
WASP	James C. Horak	This would make a lovely marching anthem for the KKK. That "destiny" crap is what murdered our native peoples. You are unclear on the concept of equality, James. Luckily your ideas will never be noted by more than a few people.	2007-01-10 10:45:06
Shine On Star Of Hope	Ellen K Lewis	Hi Ellen. It is so good to see your work again. This is a lovely poem, meaningful and deeply felt. I would like to make suggestions for trivial changes. Shine On Star Of Hope The air is thick with death and burns the nostrils [good beginning] fresh air is an illusion [and] fails to penetrate the lung [as an illusion cannot penetrate anything in any case] though around me it [is] there no need for the archaic “be” in the line above blackened as a dungeon [find a fresher analogy than black/dungeon] I know I am not alone [-for] I can hear the cries [-and ]the coughing [and] the vomiting of those around me. I can not bear the burden here [-my heart breaks within me [not fresh allusion] my soul finds no respite in a faith that [defies [sp] me. Yet there is one voice I listen for her always dream of hugging her as if I might one day have the chance. "[H]ope! hope! faith and love" never quieting her voice she sings of things we can not know do not dare to hope for. [This is ambiguous it sounds like we want to hope for these terrible things of which we do not know] She strokes the hair of a child nearby "shhh" she softly comforts she offers vivid images for them that they might never forget the moon, the earth and sky. tiny stories of joyous times she brings and renews life. hope, faith and love. She believes in them tells [those with ears?”]that there is hope [that] the [-people’s] persecution is [nearly] over and mankind is basically good and will return to a higher place in the heavens. [ gradations of heaven would not have been in her religious lexicon.] where the generals and the m[arshals] the German and the Jew will walk freely amidst the gentiles [Germans are already gentiles] amongst the moon, the earth and the sky. Death by starvation and stench [can stench cause death?] it mourned her [odd verb] to see them die they lay huddled within the others the only warmth the dead could offer were the garments they had on them tattered and torn they rent them. [who rent them? The dead can’t rent things] And still her voice would not be quieted for love is the greatest of these. It is odd to end with that evocative-of- Christian - Testament quotation if this is a tribute to Ann Frank. LOts of good images and tender moments in this piece. Best Rachel	2006-12-03 14:18:50
Falls Are Bronze and Gray	Thomas Edward Wright	and some poems are gold. This is what poetry can be - like dice - like rice. and if i fall, i fall - there is a grave [wow] bravo R	2006-11-29 14:42:50
Meet me in Jerusalem	Mark Andrew Hislop	this is not a real critique - just stopped by to tell you tht I think this is lovely - image rich and filled with captivating illusion. Best Rachel	2006-06-19 08:05:24
For All That Lives And Calls Earth Home	Joanne M Uppendahl	Lovely poen, Joanne - a few suggestionse For All That Lives And Calls Earth Home Mother raccoon rises from her den and senses that her kits are hungry but her [own]hunger calls her to the pond. Last night in the thrumming reeds frogs performed long love songs. Their moist rumblings, her hungry stomach bind one to another-- [ as any pair of lovers.] I think of her and her shiny fingers, separating the bits of flesh [who does this - the raccoon?} she touches lightly in her hurry. The gleam in her eyes [now a white fire] warming the milk rising in her like yeast, like sun. In this morning’s light she stands silently her body speaks [of nursing , of tender need.]	2006-04-19 12:31:32
For All That Lives And Calls Earth Home	Joanne M Uppendahl	Lovely poen, Joanne - a few suggestionse For All That Lives And Calls Earth Home Mother raccoon rises from her den and senses that her kits are hungry but her [own]hunger calls her to the pond. Last night in the thrumming reeds frogs performed long love songs. Their moist rumblings, her hungry stomach bind one to another-- [ as any pair of lovers.] I think of her and her shiny fingers, separating the bits of flesh [who does this - the raccoon?} she touches lightly in her hurry. The gleam in her eyes [now a white fire] warming the milk rising in her like yeast, like sun. In this morning’s light she stands silently her body speaks [of nursing , of tender need.]	2006-04-19 12:31:32
A Vanishing at the Shore	Thomas Edward Wright	"...let the tide take you out to see" === damn, unlike Mark, there are tons of lines that when I read them, I wish I had written them - but that goes inthe toop ten - that and: that and:L How long you were gone we shall never know. Long and gone are but tempos, nuance. nuance yep, natch lend me your muse damn-it	2006-01-16 13:40:56
A Woman Combing	Thomas Edward Wright	As this poem could have been inspired by god - or an angel. So tense and luscious with nectar, verse, meaning. Perfect, lovely Rachel	2006-01-15 21:43:13
Second, First.	Mark Andrew Hislop	Second, First. The title gives this moment’s game away Second World War? “Second" Biblical testament – The title hardly gives anything away in a meaningful and evident manner. but only the poetic mind knows this at once, while the non-poetic mind becomes poetic the moment it grasps this title’s simple fact.† Or what – the reader is no poet or is an idiot? (Poets know they need read no further, for all that follows is, like the bulk of the Talmud apropos of the perennial exhortation to love your neighbour, merely commentary.) The summary of the Talmud – given by Hillel the Second when challenged to do so - while standing on one foot is “Do not do unto others that which is hateful unto you – all the rest is commentary." Any “love” stuff is extraneous to that story. s] In much the same way, it does not take a Schindler to know where the sympathies of a Nazi Jew must lie, “Nazi Jew” is an oxymoron – a Jew who is a nazi is no Jew - In fact, the perfect Nazi Jew is, by that post-modern-concentration-camp word “definition”, a poet. Like it or not, Herr Schillerberg. (Irony, here, makes the digestion a little easier.) No, not really This is where godlikeness comes into it. He was/is smart, that God guy, knowing that the best place to hide His mysteries is inside a man’s heart: the access is easier! And I know you don’t understand. But, you see, understanding is your department. Oops, echoes of the concentration camp, again. If this is ironic it eludes me. But if you didn’t love the sense of community here in this “Why me?” literary ghetto then why, I ask you, Frau Schwartzmann, why are you so pleased to see your name come up in that awful blue-purple light that, permanently etched like the gene sequence for death, stains all your children? [???] Point? Point? Point? Every prick with a pen wants to know what the point is. But pricks with pens aren’t poets. actually, some are They’re tattooists, and the words ‘prick with a pen’ also define a fascist. Did you know fascists are invisible, but only to themselves? Unfortunately some are pretty huge and concrete to themselves Or that every morning, a fascist will look in [his/her] mirror and comfort [him/her]self with the fantasy that they gaze upon the face of democracy, yet be haunted by the ineluctable sense that the mirror is, actually, empty? Then off they go to Arbeit. I don’t think that the caps on the word "Arbeit" work if you are trying To evoke Auschwitz with that word To encapsulate: the mistake Schindler didn’t make, and nor do I (and the fact that you can’t see that means that, unfortunately, I'll need, for a second, to refer you back to schtanza number EH00002), was that he accepted the excruciating existential necessity to align himself with the way of a very ugly world. Why? Because he knew that in order to put the [*chosen people- If this is ironic it is certainly not working for me] first, he had to seem to collaborate, for a second. [ends] †Really, you’re still here? / Imagine for a second That to my purpose I harness the German Word for heaven, and follow it with an Exclamation mark. / Now what does that tell you? Nothing - are you trying to make a himmel/Hitler connection? It should tell you something about fascism. Yes, oh yes, meine Leiberkinder, it’s true: If I can read and understand John Forbes’s ‘Four Heads & how to do them,’ then so, goddamn it, can you. Well, like most poets, Forbes is certainly susceptible to reductive interpretations –	2005-12-11 13:12:09
Therapy	Mark Andrew Hislop	what a remarkable and powerful poem! ...to side-step because it’s genuine pain, not its simulacrum in a bunker all gaudied up for a May Day parade [great!} of arid diorama and cupidity's [I think just "cupid's" would be fine here, "Cupidity is more clever of course - but the whole phrase is wildy alive and the word "cupidity " made me stop for a second and took me out of the action. blind arrows flying wildly at eye-level. the closing image is amazing. best Rach	2005-11-16 08:57:57
At Her Grave, and After	Thomas Edward Wright	Ah, yes lovely. I knew her, Thomas [or someone very much like her]. Thank you.	2005-11-07 08:40:49
Trust	Karen Cribs	Hello Karen! Lovely in language and profound in its message this is a poem that I will not soon forget. I am the most pedantic person here, yet there are few suggestions that I can make for this arvelous piece. Trust that there is a tiger, muscular sabre-toothed, and sly, which has never/ been [line break for better enjambment} seen and never will be seen by any human eye. Trust that thirty-thousand sword- fish will never near a ship, that far from cameras or cars elephant herds live long elephant lives. Believe that bees by the billions find unidentified flowers [lovely!] on unmapped marshes and mountains. Safe in caves of contentment,[great use of language bears sleep. [Through vast canyons, horses run Why the reversal here - perhaps simply Horses run through vast canyons - which will lead more naturally to the incredible next line: while slowly snakes stretch beyond their skins in the sun. [wow!] I must trust all this to be true, though the few birds at my feeder watch the window with small flutters of fear, so like my own. wonderful rich conclusion and good slant rhyme of though/own This is what poetry can be Rachel	2005-11-06 14:52:08
Trust	Karen Cribs	Hello Karen! Lovely in language and profound in its message this is a poem that I will not soon forget. I am the most pedantic person here, yet there are few suggestions that I can make for this arvelous piece. Trust that there is a tiger, muscular sabre-toothed, and sly, which has never/ been [line break for better enjambment} seen and never will be seen by any human eye. Trust that thirty-thousand sword- fish will never near a ship, that far from cameras or cars elephant herds live long elephant lives. Believe that bees by the billions find unidentified flowers [lovely!] on unmapped marshes and mountains. Safe in caves of contentment,[great use of language bears sleep. [Through vast canyons, horses run Why the reversal here - perhaps simply Horses run through vast canyons - which will lead more naturally to the incredible next line: while slowly snakes stretch beyond their skins in the sun. [wow!] I must trust all this to be true, though the few birds at my feeder watch the window with small flutters of fear, so like my own. wonderful rich conclusion and good slant rhyme of though/own This is what poetry can be Rachel	2005-11-06 14:51:54
It Is Not Their Place	Medard Louis Lefevre Jr.	Powerful poem - but the dichotomy, as presented, is frightening to me. Are people really damned forever, "unrighteous" who do not follow a particular path? Is it possible for a person to be good and to be righteous and not be a believer?	2005-10-22 10:13:20
Fishing for Marks, and an Herb	Thomas Edward Wright	parsley rosemary and worms - love it - will love it to the end of thyme - the moon rang even though its off the hook anyway, its always for you	2005-10-18 09:18:53
Senyru 818	Michael J. Cluff	Ah, the colors! This senyru tells a whole story in just a glance across an office. Fascinating study. Really fine piece Rachel	2005-09-09 09:27:34
Retrieval	Jason S. Moore	So good to see you back Jason Within the bowels of the underworld I pass a lonely shade - Transparent, tired, yet still a man As his light begins to fade. good mysterious opening that draws us in Suddenly earthen walls resound Throughout the chasms here. Within my heart the chambers pound, Swept in an instant with fear. reminds me of Plato's cave - good rhythm, rhyme As the apparition turns his face Revealing sockets without eyes, I look away to wander deeper Not to run but to survive. a calm walking away from the fear - excellent image The shadows follow at my speed… No footsteps but my own - Farther still into the caverns - Alert and not alone, I come across a glistening stream That feeds a tempting pool - Fighting thirst for Lethe lays here Forgotten to weary fools. sudenly the image becomes transcendent - a hallmark of your work Struggling for strength, I find a map Lay hidden within my mind. Slowly the maze unravels itself [wonderful image! That maze "unraveling!} With foreboding darkness divine. My torchlight rises to guide the way. Then silhouettes appear Dancing wicked along the walls Around a massive throne austere. a throne that massive - yet austere really intersting contradicion in step with the suble sustained metaphor No crown upon the Accuser's head. Demeter's daughter sits silent - congealed [congealed? - or concealed?} As if chance had granted her this day And Pandora's "hope" is revealed. I like the way your throw in a specific mythology which opens up whole new doors of meaning within the poem I do not bow but greet his gaze With poise and guided hand As counsel to another cause And mother to every man. [interesting gender choice here] No cloak or dagger for Hades - Just a message with a simple request. He reads the words and laughs aloud Not in defiance or in jest. "It cannot be," he thunders quickly, "It is not already time. The sun and moon still seek the chills Of winter's bitter clime." "Not so," I answer, boldly now, "The buds cry out to breathe. [excellent image!}] Artemis is dressed for battle With arrows and no reprieve." He waves a hand, "And so it goes… May time at once stand still So I may kiss my wife good-bye And man may plant and till." the last line is inspired and neatly ends the epic poem, Great work Jason	2005-09-07 08:14:15
Tomorrow's Forecast	Rick Barnes	Hi Rick Love it - the light lilting tone - the wonderul punny ending the perfect cadence and rhyme the assonic wonder of confronting/fronts I hope the chart indicates blue skies ahead best to you and yours in these terrible times hugs, Roni	2005-09-06 07:28:37
The Dirt Farmer	Jordan Brendez Bandojo	Hi Jason! Good to see your work again., I adore this tale of love for a father. early morn, he ambled to the grange The word "morn" sound a little archaic here and is the only sound in the poem that feels a little out of place Equipped with farming tools His mind directed merely to a sole purpose To till the soil for his family to survive.\ [We can already see him - determined and strong] His arms are stalwart enough To scythe the grasses along the paddies His eyes are keen enough To watch the pesky rats[,] [to proect] the rice [otherwise it is the rats protecting he rice] As if it is his dear child. as indeed such sustance becomes for a loving parent [No matter] how much heat is given off by the noonday sun His back never retires, Though his skin is tanned with sunburns Still proud to cuddle his beloved sons. the pleasure of holding them outweighing the pain of the sunburns- wonderful testimony to his love. In the farmhouse he never [longs?] for music Yet bluebirds glide in liquid notes [lovely scene!} Serving melody in the paddies, The trees dance gaily Witnessing him from a distance {I adore the way this poem suddenly becomes mystical] Through the mountain in its mantle of green. My father is a dirt farmer He has uplifted the dignity of labor [or has been uplifted in the dignity of labor?} Through his untiring hands That cultivate the farm to be rife with good harvest Making our place a breadbasket. [wonderful!} I love my father More than I love farming. Yes, that is evident in this loving tribute. Thak you for this lovely piece best, Rachel-	2005-09-06 07:25:27
Pole in Hand	Claire H. Currier	What a delightful tale of a child's excited adventures with her dad and the discomfort of the actual day which somehow does not allay the wonder of the moment in time. A good antidote to the sorrow of these times. wouldn't change a "line." best, Rachel	2005-09-06 07:16:17
Self-portrait of someone else	Mark Andrew Hislop	Indeed - you have captured the terror and the power of creativity in this rich. powerful, poem. " ...To expand into who You are?" Never has a capital letter served so wonderouly to expand the meaning of a poem. Marvelous piece, Mark peace to you and yours in these terrible times, Rachel	2005-09-06 07:09:53
Wow poet this is powerful	Mark Andrew Hislop	Wow poet this is powerful [really it is! ] Wow poet this is powerful I have read it Over and over and I come Away with different feelings Each time. [As we approach everything - newly over and over as our emotions, vulnerabilities change from moment to moment - things take on subtly different meanings - what a spectacular point to make - f i am not off base about this interpretation] Good structure, word flow, images, You never fail to project So much poet. a lot and yet so little to say about a poem - which is after all the reflection and offering of one's deepest feelings. And so is the world Some of us live in poet. A world of dreams, hopes, despair, Truth or fiction Sometimes it is hard And most difficult to tell good structure word flow images thanks for Posting Once more poet. Indeed! Thanks for this amazing poem Rachel	2005-09-02 10:06:57
Poem Title	Poet Name	Critique Given by Rachel F. Spinoza	Critique Date

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