[Critique Group 2] leonard's critiques of group 2 submissions
Tuchyner5 at aol.com
Tuchyner5 at aol.com
Wed Oct 26 14:07:54 EDT 2016
# 1 Val
The language and imagery are exquisite.
In line 1: I love the word surfaces as used here with line 2, because it
plays with the unspoken word surf. The poem leaves options as to whose voice
is being referred to. Is it the minstrel? Is it a lost lover? Is it
something in the poet which has been lost like sight? Is it home? Is it all of
the above plus more? All of these possibilities speak to me and within the
context of this poem, they play with my emotions.
Line 3: This is a gentle expression of sorrow. As I walk along that shore
with you, I am also aware of the surf crashing, which is not so gentle.
Somehow the poem allows me the freedom of that violent feeling, while also
feeling the gentler experience of the writer.
Line 4: Great line.
Line 5: The s sounds here are Beautiful in their alliteration, and they
hold the sound of the gentle, sad, touch of earth and water in an ebb and
flow. I find myself wondering who and what is the minstrel. My heart knows
the answer to these questions but I can’t describe the answer. It is an
ineffable quality that is always there singing to us, as a companion and,
somehow, a guide.
2nd verse. Again the question of what was lost comes up. By leaving it
open, everyone can identify with that verse and that poem.
Line 2: the last 3 words, “Never wanted to take,” is a staccato beat of
the ‘T’s. The poem is not. so gentle here. In line 3, the smooth sands and
craggy rocks, speaks of smooth times and hard rocky times. In the last
line of that verse, the lack of clarity of the minstrel is emphasized. If the
minstrel is a guide, than the path she leads us down is always vague. He
hides in shadow, seen and not seen.
It occurs to me that the minstrel, or singer, ends each verse. This makes
this poem a lot, if not mostly, about what the singer stands for. Yet the
title is about love. Is the minstrel the path of love? We know love is a
path of beauty and wonder, as well as heart break and loss. Yet, it is love,
I believe, that leads the way. Love is also the quest. The poet is willing
to walk barefooted on pebbles. Barefooted on pebbles is often very painful.
They are hard on the soul. They are broken rock that may have smoothed in
their life times or remain sharp and cracked.
This is an absolutely marvelous poem. I whish I had written it.
Love Notes
10-8-16
Your voice surfaces in my mind
like ocean touching shore,
flowing, then subsiding as my
heart answers
and the minstrel sings of sorrow.
On this journey of loss
I never wanted to take,
I walk along grief's shoreline,
smooth sands and craggy rocks
and the minstrel stays in shadow.
Waves break in and out,
heart tide often deep, then shallow--
I move ahead, pebbles underfoot
as the singer leads me toward tomorrow.
---------
#2 Abbi e
There are two stories here. One is about an encounter with a fox; the
other is about the relationship between the couple which, in this story,
centers around the conflict between Scott and Brenda. Brenda can’t have children,
and Scott won’t adopt, so Snowflake is the surrogate child for Brenda.
Scott can’t relate to that. So the conflict is unresolved.
You say the fox was wary of people, and that is usually the case. They can
also sometimes be brazen, when they are confident about their superior
ability to evade an enemy. So I can buy that he got very close to the couple.
But he would be exceedingly alert. At the first sign of movement on Scott’s
part, he would have been a black streak. No chance that a thrown rock
would have hit him, unless Scott is a professional baseball pitcher. Even if he
were, he couldn’t have gotten off a really good shot sitting on his duff.
I thought the relational aspect of the piece was well done, but had some
questions about some story technicalities regarding the encounter with the
fox. One is the description of the fox as large. I can accept that it was
large for a fox, but even small terriers would not be that much smaller.
Terriers are a feisty lot and not cowed easily. There are exceptions to the
rule, I realize. The description of the fox crashing into the woods stopped
me, because they are very graceful creatures and the word crash, though I
know what you mean, doesn’t seem to me to fit in describing their movements.
The description of Brenda comforting Snowflake was well done and true to
life, as were all the relational descriptions.
Scott acts like he doesn’t have a clue. He must know how Brenda feels
about wanting to be a parent, yet he throws out a stupid quip about Snowflake
being a baby to Brenda. The guy is pretty stupid or maybe just mean and
rubbing it in for some reason. Great job in describing him through action
rather than adjectives.
Scott shows his warmer, more loving side in other interactions between him
and Brenda. Again, you have taken a show-me approach and it is expertly
done.
Scott’s reticence to respond further to the relationship between Brenda
and Snowflake leads me to consider some possibilities of what was going on in
him. Maybe he is rethinking his position on the baby issue. Maybe he is
jealous of the relationship his wife has with their pet. Maybe he doesn’t
want to share her with an adopted child.
As the reader, I am certain this issue is not going to go away. You’ve
described in Brenda’s dialogue that she feels inadequate due to her vision
lack and her inability to have children. Her only weapon is to be unresponsive
to Scott. She is too dependent to do much with that at this point, but as
resentment grows, if it does, there is no telling what level of discord
will develop in their relationship.
ADVENTURE (714 words)
The big black fox stood and gazed with a curious expression at the
little white Terrier who lay snoozing in the grass in a sunny meadow
next to a babbling brook. The pooch, sensing a presence, opened her
eyes with a start and stared, horrified, into the fox's green, glinting
eyes. Giving a yelp of terror, she leapt to her feet and dashed,
barking, across the field to the couple on the blanket, her white back
and tail becoming a blur. The fox turned and scurried in the opposite
direction, crashing into the adjacent woods.
After a three-mile hike, Scott and Brenda were exhausted. They ate a
picnic lunch, and then dozed, entwined on their blanket, surrounded by
empty Subway sandwich wrappers and water bottles. Awakened by the dog's
shrill barks, they sat up and rubbed their eyes. Brenda extended her
arms, and the little dog jumped into them, apparently not giving the
remnants of their meal any thought.
"Snowflake, what is it, sweetie?" said Brenda, holding and rocking the
little dog. "You're shaking like a leaf!"
Scott surveyed the landscape. "I don't see anything," he said. "The
last time I looked, she was sleeping in the sun, drying off after
playing in the creek. Maybe she just had a bad doggy dream or something."
"You're okay," said Brenda, cuddling Snowflake against her. “You’re
safe with Mommy now.” The dog licked her face.
"Jesus," said Scott. "You'd think she was your baby."
Brenda turned to her husband, her eyes filling with tears. "Well, you
know we can't have children because of my stupid body, not to mention
my vision loss, and you don’t want to adopt. Snowflake is all we have."
Scott sighed, shrugged, and lay down. Brenda could hold the tears back
no longer. She buried her face in Snowflake’s fur, and the dog
delivered wet, slobbery, comforting kisses. Eventually, Brenda lay down
on the blanket next to Scott, without touching him. Soon, the couple
and their dog were asleep.
In the woods, the fox cowered; fearing the humans on the blanket would
come after him at any moment. When they didn't, and after an
interminable amount of time passed, the fox was distracted by a
tantalizing aroma born to his nostrils by a cool mountain summer
breeze. Curious, he snuck out and stood in the open field for a moment.
In the distance, he glimpsed the figures on the blanket, lying
motionless. The breeze grew stronger and so did the aroma. He inched
closer.
Snowflake sensed the fox's approach first. She whined and started
shaking. Alert, Brenda held the dog close to her and said, "its okay,
sweetie. You're just having another bad dream."
In answer, Snowflake barked once. The fox stopped. Brenda opened her
eyes, sat up, and spotted the creature in the distance. With her
limited eyesight, she couldn't tell what it was but sensed it was a
predator by the way it just stood there. "Scott!” she cried.
He sat bolt upright. "What the hell!" He flung a nearby rock at the
fox. It hit the animal’s nose and thudded to the ground. The fox
yelped, turned, and dashed into the woods.
Now Brenda and Snowflake were shaking. Scott put an arm around Brenda’s
shoulders and said, "It's okay, babe. It was just a fox. He won't come
back."
Brenda rested on her husband's shoulder for a moment, feeling his
comforting warmth. Then, remembering their earlier conversation, she
looked at her watch and said, "It's getting late. We probably should
head back."
"Whatever," said Scott with a sigh.
As they packed the remains of their lunch, Snowflake whined constantly
and stayed by Brenda's side. As she stuffed items into her back pack,
she murmured soothing endearments to the dog. Scott ignored them both.
As they trudged along the rocky trail, Brenda holding Scott's arm so he
could guide her, they said nothing except for the occasional moment
Scott pointed out logs or other obstacles. Snowflake scampered ahead,
then turned and rushed back to see if they were coming. She
occasionally barked at squirrels and birds in trees, and Brenda
laughed, but Scott said nothing. When they finally reached the car, the
pooch was only too happy to collapse onto her blanket on the back seat
and fall fast asleep.
-- -------
#4 Alice
It is no surprise that I find this poem superb. It touched me deeply. The
courtroom setup is enticingly interesting, and I wonder how and why you
chose that milieu. How and why is it questioned that she feels deep emotion?
Why does she need proof of it? I clearly relate to the need to know one has
heart felt tears. When my eyes burn with the spilling of tears, for a
sundry of reasons, I feel I am affirming my humanity and am grateful for that
connection even though it is often painful. But why the need for glasses to
give that proof? Did your eyes lose the feeling of tears spilling over when
they were damaged?
You use the term ‘holding emotion;. I wondered whether hold, in this case,
meant holding in emotion as opposed to showing emotion. A dam doesn’t just
old water. It regulates the water it holds. Either the water flows over
the top and the dam has little control as to when the water flows. Or the dam
has vents that allow the water to flow when the decision is made to lower
the pressure or to use the pressure. The poem answers these questions in
verse 5. She does have a regulating system, but is constantly checking as to
whether she is achieving the right balance. Poetry itself is a way she
sublimates and creatively expresses her feelings as this piece so deeply and
convincingly .does. The poet courageously bares her heart, including her
doubts. The poem seems to be pointing out that she is constantly judging
herself, or does she feel judged? I love the last lines of that verse that
describe how the poet uses poetry.
That leads my thoughts back to the glasses. They are their in part, the
poet testifies, to protect her from hurt. They are a shield from harm. Do
they hide the emotion from others, while also proving to the wearer that there
is emotion?
The judge is unqualified. Can the verdict be then trusted? Is she
unqualified for lack of understanding because he cannot stand in the poet’s shoes.
Who is the judge? Is he or she people who don’t have a clue? Is she an
extension of the poet who asks the questions? Can her verdict be trusted? Does
the poet need to convince somebody?
Verse 5 makes a clear and surprising statement of how much the glasses
have become part of the poet.
“Congenitally impaired vanity,” is a wow statement or description. I
wonder if all handicaps which makes a person stand out in a negative way or
impairs their ability to function with their peers have a deprecating effect.
Is the author saying that, or just that it applied to her circumstances and
psyche. To give it a positive twist, does it provide an early lesson in
humility? Of course to be humiliated is not so good, and unfortunately we
know that victims are often wont to feel shame and even guilt for being a
victim. So much is in that little phrase.
The word enjambment gave me a merry chase through two dictionaries. The
spelling here is the closest I came to the word in the fifth verse at the
end. Am I the only one who has never heard that word before?
I enjoyed the humor of the last verse. It was a great way to end the
piece. Of course, no verdict is rendered. I think this is a court of in
perpetuity.
All thumbs up on this one.
Evidence of Emotion
by Alice Jane-Marie Massa
In the courtroom of the heart,
I offer you Exhibit A--
clear lenses of glasses
stained with teardrops.
Stanza 1 and 2 blend. They could be merged, but I like it the way it is.
The question is asked whether wiping away the signs of deep emotional
experience in anyway mitigates their reality lasting effect. Since I, the
reader, is so sure of the answer, I wonder about the motive for this question.
Doesn’t the poet know the answer? At this point I’m only to verse 2.
Washing these unnecessarily prescription lenses
on this nearly frosted morning,
I think of the evidence of emotion,
the tear stains,
disappearing beneath
a cascade of water
and the touch of my finger.
Is the sadness of yesterday
now erased, forgotten,
evaluated, or forestalled?
Back in the courtroom of the heart,
an unqualified judge asked,
"Why do you wear these glasses
if you have no vision?"
My testimony began:
"Since I was seven,
I have been wearing glasses:
they seem as much a part of me
as my right hand
and my left leg,
as the clothes
I don each day.
Exhibit A has protected me
from hurt
or from greater injury
when I fell off my bike,
when a door was accidentally slung into my face,
when I encountered a piece of construction equipment
on the Kilbourn Drawbridge.
Wearing these glasses
calms my concerns
about being poked
by a low-hanging branch.
Through so many seasons of walking,
these glasses have shielded my broken eyes
from raindrops, snowflakes,
stinging sleet, and drying winds.
Believe me, I do not wear them for vanity:
I let my congenitally impaired vanity
dissolve decades ago.
Most of all,
I wear these glasses
to catch the tears
of emotions
so that I have proof
that I did not squelch
nor hide
all that I felt
on any yesterday.
I will admit
that I am not
an amateur holder of emotions:
I ascend from Italian descent;
I am
a professional holder of emotions--
a poet
who translates
tear stains
into the adversities of verse,
the joy of injamment,
and the strides of stanzas."
Midst the murmurs
magnifying in the courtroom,
the judge,
with unknown poetic license,
tapped his gavel and bellowed,
"Poetic order in the court!"
October 14, 2016, Friday
number of words: 318
number of lines: 70
***
Evidence of Emotion
by Alice Jane-Marie Massa
(Verse 1)
In the courtroom of the heart,
I offer you Exhibit A--
clear lenses of glasses
stained with teardrops.
(Verse 2)
Washing these unnecessarily prescription lenses
on this nearly frosted morning,
I think of the evidence of emotion,
the tear stains,
disappearing beneath
a cascade of water
and the touch of my finger.
(Verse 3)
Is the sadness of yesterday
now erased, forgotten,
evaluated, or forestalled?
(Verse 4)
Back in the courtroom of the heart,
an unqualified judge asked,
"Why do you wear these glasses
if you have no vision?"
(Verse 5)
My testimony began:
"Since I was seven,
I have been wearing glasses:
they seem as much a part of me
as my right hand
and my left leg,
as the clothes
I don each day.
Exhibit A has protected me
from hurt
or from greater injury
when I fell off my bike,
when a door was accidentally slung into my face,
when I encountered a piece of construction equipment
on the Kilbourn Drawbridge.
Wearing these glasses
calms my concerns
about being poked
by a low-hanging branch.
Through so many seasons of walking,
these glasses have shielded my broken eyes
from raindrops, snowflakes,
stinging sleet, and drying winds.
Believe me, I do not wear them for vanity:
I let my congenitally impaired vanity
dissolve decades ago.
Most of all,
I wear these glasses
to catch the tears
of emotions
so that I have proof
that I did not squelch
nor hide
all that I felt
on any yesterday.
I will admit
that I am not
an amateur holder of emotions:
I ascend from Italian descent;
I am
a professional holder of emotions--
a poet
who translates
tear stains
into the adversities of verse,
the joy of injamment,
and the strides of stanzas."
(Verse 6)
Midst the murmurs
magnifying in the courtroom,
the judge,
with unknown poetic license,
tapped his gavel and bellowed,
"Poetic order in the court!"
# 5 Brad
Beautiful in line and end of lines rhyming. It’s sprinkled around like
garnishing.
Wonderful imagery
The first part of the poem is reminiscent of the song, “Morning Has
Broken, Like the First Morning.” I wonder if you had that song in mind when you
wrote this.
It is a spiritual story that teaches a spiritual lesson.
Lines 1 and 2: Beautiful lines. Beautiful beginning.
Line 4 It sounds great. It has lovely L alliteration.
Line 5: Good b, b and p alliteration.
Line 7: Good r sounds.
Line 10: “Bright triumphant stand.” I had to think a lot about what that
might mean. There are so many different meanings of the word ‘stand’. For
me it slowed the flow. Upon second reading, I had no problem.
Lines 14 and 15: good rhyme of morning and dawning. There might be a
little overuse of those two words. After all, if this is a poem about
firstness, it might not be consistent to use the same words too many times. On the
other hand, every time I read it, it did not seem old. If this were a song,
the repetition would be a good thing.
Line 19: “Will be as light in the eyes of the children.”
Eliminate the second ‘the’.
Line 22: great g alliteration.
Line 23: Doesn’t need the ‘the’. Likewise with line 25.
Line 29: “At Forever Plains they fell upon her.”
I love the concept of ‘forever plains’. Likewise the use of ‘shattered
dreams in the next line.
Line 38: I question whether you need ‘so’ to start this line. Likewise in
the next line starting with ‘And’. You don’t need them.
These last two lines are a powerful ending. More powerful without the
two antecedents.
The promise of the Guardian
C by Brad Corallo
Word count 301
1. With water diamonds sparkling in her eyes
2. fell Guardian of Morning, through twilight autumn skies.
3. In skewed formation, birds around her flew
4. their gold eluminated by light no longer true.
5. From her hair were scattered brilliant blazing sparks
6. bits of Morning love which
7. all did reach their marks.
8. At the point where crystal blue caressed the land
9. her Light touch down ,
10. morphed, to bright triumphant stand.
11. "I am Guardian of Morning returned
12. and I bring renewal of the days.
13. I decree this is once again
14. the First Morning
15. where all is washed clean with freshness dawning.
16. Love will rein as Lord of
17. all emotion and sensation.
18. and the wonder of creation
19. will be as light in the eyes of the children.
20. These things all, I clearly see
21. and nothing will prevent them, I decree!"
22. But far off in grumbling grayish growling gremlin gloom
23. loathsome chattering time demons from the mists began to loom.
24. They would not see their Confining work undone.
25. They were committed to the dimming of the sun.
26. Among their tools were tedium, repetition and routine.
27. They worked to bind free spirits
28. with chains of time unseen.
29. At Forever Plains they fell upon her.
30. She swept them from her path like shattered dreams.
31. And strode forward undeterred, resolute with her renewal quest
redeemed .
32. In multitudes, they once again fell upon her like a hand.
33. Their sheer increasing quantity her burdon to withstand.
34. Their waxing mass eventually bore her to the ground.
35. The light of the renewal no longer could be found.
36. But the bits of love that earlier showered from her hair
37. sowed seeds of hope and will to joy which ever fought despair.
38. So down the yawning ages her legacy remains
39. and whenever spirit hearts give freely, demon power wanes.
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