Thomas Edward Wright's E-Mail Address: thomas@tomwrightmd.com
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Displaying Critiques 1 to 50 out of 354 Total Critiques.| Poem Title | Poet Name | Critique Given by Thomas Edward Wright | Critique Date |
| Questioning | Nancy Ann Hemsworth | Nice - Sensuous. Watch out for Hislop. He's an antipodean lecher. Welcome to TPL. Arnie? Is that you. No. Can't be. | 2010-03-11 20:38:05 |
| One Eve | Dellena Rovito | I think you could expand this into a beautiful sonnet. I've started it. Across the summer sky twilight drew; The lustrous air a silken gown Hues of all those missing eons; Yet no dusk's a dwindling palace And this a Sistine sky, this Louvre whose Blessed souls renewed with grace These heavens splashed up to warn and join Those whose exploits and whose wars destroy. So, upon this latent hour - Aye, Tis nigh - beyond demise for now we are. Across the gloaming twilight drew; And all of TPL dreams of you. You finish it. We need 4 more lines. A good start. | 2010-03-11 19:18:25 |
| Enter Out | James C. Horak | I would use some punctuation inside the poem just to help guide the thought-flow. Is a beginning [or] an end required? some bottom line sum[] [means? is?] nothing To make [] travel some [] sublime idea; Where nothing can stand in the sun; when a man bent with time wants The rest bent in mind to be no better; A stone owl [] disavows kindness shattering hope [??] lusts for the few [is lust the derivative of the shattered hope?] Where maidens are torn by dogs for sport Secrets to be [b]orn inside out, worlds alike in living death to propel a lie; Thought to manifest [as] horror. I'm struggling with the ending: "[Secrets to be torn inside out,] [worlds/alike in living death to propel a lie]/ Thought to manifest with horror." vs. ...propel a lie;/ Thought (as compared and in contrast to, Secrets?) to manifest with [as?] horror." Perhaps a comment would clear it up. If not, a re-work may be needed to get the jello to gel. | 2010-03-11 18:26:42 |
| Sun Shines Through Cracks | DeniMari Z. | Just catching up on some of January's work that I missed. I found a reference to this in Mark's January Voting and since he has "the eye, the ear" I figured I'd better check this out. Well worth the trip! It's a bit underpunctuated for my taste and there's a couple of minor word-work changes I'd suggest, but that doesn't (shouldn't) detract from the high quality of this work. Whatever you're smoking, keep inhaling. :) Tom | 2010-02-21 21:07:46 |
| Strands | James C. Horak | Words are but broken[] hitches[,] strands of meaning that won't reach[,] can't be taught, Prettied [], [stretched] What? Just modifiers [] that prolong [] the agony. Too little effort, not enough blood[;] the inks strain, [run] to pastel Torment: try, [yet] fail tagging uncertainty to crosses and stars[,] And always [this] to deny, lies to deny That your love is whispered in a kiss ...but fallen as the snow In the moment that [slips the knot] tight against the throat of doubt A somber denial loses dignity A hand falls from the lap A goddess simply wa[i]ls Play[er]s play at death in a game of obduration Will comes not from intent but reflection Words...{and finish the thought} | 2010-02-21 14:25:09 |
| Remember Tomorrow | cheyenne smyth | Life is a long dark corridor mating fireflies may light its brass sconces hold candles whose wicks [ ] whisper of doorways the cold stone floor the damp wet walls the vermin scratching the dripping water the etc. There's no sun in here. Until you forget yesterday. tomorrow | 2010-02-21 14:13:37 |
| The lucky stars | Mark Andrew Hislop | Clearly, I am going to have to take up a new hobby. I am coming up with faceless hands, old broomsticks, a broken harp. Even the uniform shows its age: the knees are worn, the booties showing toes: this old suit does not me. Perhaps you could recommend a constellation, a night, a figment...rent her out to a mate? The title does not kindle me fire, however much the poem and the conceit do. Perhaps "That One Night I Looked Into Your Eyes And Saw How Old I Really Am" would do? Or something. You're on a roll. Keep spinning. tew | 2010-02-21 13:36:52 |
| Base camp | Mark Andrew Hislop | MSS: Re: Hisplop Writes with Reality looking in through the greasy window. Works words into a frenzy. Reminds lazy minds to keep matches dry. Would recommend for promotion to farmer or herder. Has an element of independence that bears watching. Motivations appear to be grounded in fantasy. TEW | 2010-02-21 13:17:46 |
| Scream - Repost From Year - 2001 | DeniMari Z. | This will touch many, as it did me. My family is full of them. I hope you and your son find some way to deal with the pain. Tom | 2010-02-18 15:27:38 |
| The Gloved One | Dellena Rovito | Sounds like my ex-wife. This is well-constructed and full of chocolate chips. I like the "W's" "warm, weathered, wonderful" Gradually...guh. Take care, D. Tom | 2010-02-10 22:08:43 |
| To Write Like Poe | cheyenne smyth | Write like cheyenne. You're better. | 2010-02-10 22:04:25 |
| I Want to See Their Face Before... | James C. Horak | There's some peanut butter in this samwich, JC. One of your finer efforts, IMHO. I was looking deeper into the history of religiosity than the recent incarnation of idiocy you described in your post-it note. Like into the entanglements of Popes, pederasts and poets. Like into the hearts of men lured by Hubris' seductive song. The sub-class of suicide bombers fits this billing, but the catalog is certainly heavier than an old family Bible. Thanks. Tom | 2010-02-10 21:47:07 |
| Planting | cheyenne smyth | There is tremendous power in language, especially when condensed down to the essentials. You tread between tenderness and seduction on feet slippered in see-through silk pajamas. Thank you for the dream meme. Tom | 2010-02-10 21:10:44 |
| My January Vote, first in the 3 month-long contest | James C. Horak | The first shall be last? ;-) | 2010-02-10 20:32:59 |
| Reflections | Dellena Rovito | Stay out of your poems, Dellena. Good poetry is not about you. It's about us. Tom | 2010-01-18 01:06:19 |
| A Gracious Good Year | Gene Dixon | Top five. Maybe higher. Tom | 2010-01-18 01:04:29 |
| At Critical Mass | Mark Andrew Hislop | Ah, you drama queen, you. I like the repetition of "I am" near the explosive end. I can hear her begging for more. ;) | 2010-01-18 00:58:08 |
| From beyond | Mark Andrew Hislop | MAH: While they dig out the Haitians that they might reinvent themselves as Western Bankers or Conquistadors or Carib bean exporters or Poets of the Realm I bid thee a hardy "hello" from the frozen land of frozen lakes, of hockey heads, of Lutherans, of - As a dog returns to its own vomit, so I. A bride can stand at the altar only so long, you know. The initial intervention is a subtle debasement of the currency. From this all else follows. A man with head will stand up in the back of the room and they will take notice when from his mouth answers flow. You dabble in the dry pool whose dust settles heavy upon your lashes. Between your toes squirms the last warm worm, whose cold world you blow into a small gale. But meters away, whose feet are remembered there but yours? Baked into the cake a constant: the rate of decay; the speed of night; the misery of company. Count your cards and bid accordingly. Waste not the opportunity to wait. Eventually wins every time. | 2010-01-17 10:17:59 |
| Sparrow Tears | marilyn terwilleger | M When is bird not a bird? When it's Marilyn's. That's what I've heard. Some great imagery here. tom | 2007-11-12 11:14:20 |
| Tattered Prayer | marilyn terwilleger | That's a compound fracture, that bone protruding through your religious skin. An interesting and well-described trip. But all that gas! Are you Green? Does that thing get good mileage? Does it have four-wheel drive? :) T | 2007-11-12 10:59:37 |
| Pastel | Mary J Coffman | Well. I'll be a lily in this garden any day. Mary, Mary: quite contrary To the average TPL poetess, I confess I lack suffiicient - shall we say - innocence to be a critic of such candor. Once, when I was younger, and less jaded, and less risk averse, and younger, and impulsive, and a Democrat, and male as a post, and dumber than that, I would take this poem to bed with me. Now, older and wiser and tart (not tartar, I floss), I swim in it nakedly, alone with my harem, which is not alone with me. | 2007-11-12 10:55:15 |
| The Real Me | Rene L Bennett | I think this is a common sentiment, that we're capable of hiding our inner selves, or, conversely, incapable of allowing others to see what really needs to be seen to actually "know someone." The poetic question is, it seems to me, what is in there worth knowing? So, poetically, can you tell us? Crying at night: why? What historical sequence of events has led to this fact? Is there a metaphor in that/those event/s? Can you use it to write more effectively about your "reality"? I'd like to see some of that stuff. What you've done here is piqued our interest; now you've got to deliver the goods, or you're just another observant writer. We've got plenty of them. Tom | 2007-11-04 16:53:16 |
| Halloween Ogres | marilyn terwilleger | playful use of the holiday. thanks, M t | 2007-11-04 16:44:37 |
| Life's Window | Naome James | These sestinas get kind of crazy. I've attempted several, and find them interesting. There's some famous ones, and those are fabulous. Perhaps you've seen them. The trick seems to be choosing words that don't allow you to keep saying the same thing. In other words, end-words that allow you to have multiple meanings. And that's not easy. I find yours a bit tedious. I think the form is difficult to do well, and easy to get wrong, or at least not "right." Nothing against this effort, it's honest, it's heartfelt, and as its circularity recommends the form, I hope you, and others here, will experiment with it. The form requires tremendous skill to come off well. I appreciate the effort. Tom | 2007-11-04 16:43:29 |
| Healing Prayer | DeniMari Z. | I can't imagine what you're going through. I hope that you find some peace knowing that sometimes life is unfair, unexplainable. I wish you well, and thank you for sharing your loss with us. best wishes, tom | 2007-11-04 16:28:43 |
| Just Another Halloween | Monica ONeill | Hi Moni, Looks like you had Hallowed Fun. We had a few kids on a quiet night. Are you in Vancouver, BC? Somewhere up there? Hope all's well. Nice to read you again. Tom | 2007-11-04 16:19:55 |
| Duchess of the Sea | Paul H. Roefs | wow. what a trip. pass the pipe. Tom | 2007-11-04 16:13:22 |
| Forget Me Not | Rene L Bennett | You COULD HAVE end this poem in a much more interesting and fun way - thought you were going to stab him in the back - instead you provide the Hallmark ending and we're back to thinking about cleaning the kitchen and making Thanksgiving lists. Play with it. I like the way it sort of sing-song rhymes, lulls us - Add a punchline. Change the entire meaning and give us something to smile about. This is too "real." We want something "un-real." Think about it. tom | 2007-11-04 16:09:07 |
| Tangle | James C. Horak | A puzzle probably worth solving, but I'm not in the mood. TEW | 2007-11-04 16:03:12 |
| Moving Time | Dellena Rovito | Seems a bit wordy and with misspellings loses its impact. I also think that it's okay to end with a question, but it's a cop-out. We don't want to answer questions. We want you to give us answers. Tom | 2007-11-04 16:00:55 |
| Autumn Voices in the Breeze | James C. Horak | Your lawn, your life. Thank God for Springs, eh. TEW | 2007-11-04 15:57:17 |
| Mélange | Mary J Coffman | I'm drenched. & I need a cigarette. Tom | 2007-11-04 15:56:02 |
| Winter's Magic | Jana Buck Hanks | JBH- I think I missed something. But, that's not unusual. Moon clouds the eyes of man. That's unusual. A statement I'm trying to get my arms around. Like twilight: the garments enfolded in ecstacy (sp?)... Winter magic. Help . Hanging around, wondering, TEW | 2007-11-04 15:54:29 |
| In My Thoughts | James C. Horak | We own it all. That's why we've got garage sales. Some of this stuff ain't worth keeping. :) TEW | 2007-11-04 15:47:37 |
| First Light | Mary J Coffman | Gut morgen. Color me pink. All this love - it makes me blush. It needs something, though, a twist, or a turn. It's Hallmark-y. We want decadence. Tom | 2007-11-04 15:43:43 |
| Enchanted Morn | marilyn terwilleger | glory? (pirouette - glory... ettes - glories?) I would stop at line 3 with a period "...eaves." Then start the last line with "Heather..." It gets a little run-onny without a break. Hope you're well. Tom | 2007-11-04 15:40:32 |
| The Nights Before Christmas | Joan M Whiteman | Here, here! or is it Hear, hear! ? Marry Christmas. | 2006-12-13 00:52:44 |
| Colors | marilyn terwilleger | Some thoughts: Colors kaleidoscope (we know there are loose shards of glass inside, so don't say it) Their hot inflections Interns of my beige confusion Who besiege my laggard head Startle my constellations Lap at the shades of my soul. Even simply removing the word "like" works. I like the start. Play. t | 2006-12-11 09:56:13 |
| A "Prayer" for My Brothers and Sisters in Light | Mary J Coffman | Thanks for your thoughts. I wish you the best of luck and hope you attain a long-lasting pain-free and full recovery. Happy Holidays. tom | 2006-12-11 02:45:56 |
| Lila | DeniMari Z. | It's really prose, and I guess I'd lay it out that way. If it's in an illustrated kids book, all bets are off, and my comment is irrelevant. As to the story, seems a bit thin on plot. tom | 2006-12-11 02:43:05 |
| A Christmas Card | marilyn terwilleger | Thanks M t | 2006-12-11 02:40:16 |
| Widow Walk Time | James C. Horak | I love this, but I'm not thrilled with your rhythm. I'm playing with 8 strong beats: It's not so much this night to come, A pleasant walk; await the sun To sweep stars away, to blue the sky; Upward turning one face as I - Feel the dew set upon the weathered rail - Overlook a tired soldier's trail. One vacant house remains on this hill, Morning mists lift as if warmth would fill The air releasing the least accepted Round the corner where he's expected. ? tew | 2006-12-11 02:34:59 |
| Leaving the abbey | Mark Andrew Hislop | Who? Who left? Scheffer? That ink-blot. I'll ... dC | 2006-12-05 21:20:35 |
| Sunday Morning Scene | Teresa Green | You've worked this into a fine march. The six strong beats in each line pace us through your scene. We've a chocolate and a yellow, and the same windows! The pots, the wine, the whatever - spilled every day it seems. When I read this one I started tearing it apart. But its message is clear: you've a warm heart. Happy Holidays. tom | 2006-12-05 21:15:11 |
| Olfactory and Memory | Mark D. Kilburn | I would end it at "dollar bill." The jeep scene reminds of the WWII poem about the Turret Gunner. Some wars are meant to be lost. Hopefully, you're winning another one. tew | 2006-11-28 15:47:50 |
| Scourge Kill | James C. Horak | This is raw and from within. As all poetry should be. | 2006-11-28 15:43:54 |
| All Hallows Eve | Paul R Lindenmeyer | My only gripe here is with the last line: "Howl" = a long cry as from a wolf or hound. "BOO!" seems blurted or spat. Funny. Daughters do this to fathers. Thanks. tom | 2006-11-28 15:19:44 |
| Quill | Mark Andrew Hislop | Venturing out on a limb, I'll even bring a rope, and there I'll hang Or slide quietly down its hempy braid, or tie two ends and swing. I have found your writing to be more focused. And therefore more readable, pleasurable. Perhaps I am missing the middle chapters, The part where the boat sank and all the survivors died. And this is the denouement, with the pretty music, And the sheet in the pew with the pretty printing. Or not. TEW | 2006-11-27 11:25:58 |
| a fire of yes | Joanne M Uppendahl | Hi. The lower the sun gets to the lake The colder the wind on my face. | 2006-11-05 06:37:21 |
| Pollen | Mark Andrew Hislop | Mine? Well it swells on a diet of else. Which grew poorly this year, what with the heat. tew | 2006-11-05 06:34:26 |
| Poem Title | Poet Name | Critique Given by Thomas Edward Wright | Critique Date |
Displaying Critiques 1 to 50 out of 354 Total Critiques.
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If you would like to view all of Thomas Edward Wright's Poetry just Click Here.