[Critique Group 2] Leonard's comments re: group 2

[Tuchyner5 at aol.com]

I have Val's piece in here twice. It was too much  trouble to isolate and 
delete. forgive my Laziness. 
Alice Sub 
I enjoyed this piece  very much. It’s sprinkled with humor, excellent 
descriptions, good poetic  devices and certainly easy for someone like me to 
relate personally to. Don’t  feel guilty about your pretender flower pots. Mine 
are made of discarded tires.  Just because you didn’t make your own soil, 
doesn’t mean it’s not organic.   
Good qualities of  alliteration 

The Gift of  summer? 

by Alice Jane-Marie  Massa 
Oh, Summer, sweet  Summer— 
at last, you are  here! 
I have waited one long Wisconsin winter   
for your short  visit-- 
each day of you like a  vacation 
Leave out ‘like’ 
to be relished and  revered. 
(Second Stanza) 
Through your lush, warm  days, 
I need not bedeck myself in   
polar bear coats, doubled  hats, 
I would prefer ‘in’ to be the first, rather than the last  word in these 
last 2 lines. But I understand your  reasoning. 
scarves, gloves, and fake-fur-lined  boots 
each time my guide dog and I venture  outside. 
Instead of ‘outside’, simply say ‘out’. It sounds better  to me, and it 
is obvious that ‘out’ means  ‘outside’. 
Thank you!  Thank you! 
I like the double  emphasis. 
(Third Stanza) 
Through the tender days of  Summer, 
I need not shovel my Snow Garden: 
I prefer ‘garden snow’ rather than ‘snow garden. It’s a  matter of rhythm 
and beat.  Hard to  explain. Maybe our musicians here would like to weigh 
in on  this. 
I shovel soil 
into my flower and herb  garden 
which soothes my soul 
All summer long. 
I love the subtle rhyme scheme on these last 4  lines. 
(Fourth Stanza) 
Okay, okay, the soil  is 
a concoction 
from a plastic bag; 
and the containers are  plastic, 
painted to look like clay  pots. 
Good use of the hard ‘c’ and ‘k’ sounds. It reflects the  mood of the 
lines. 
You see, I live in the heart  of 
a sidewalk city. 
My precious garden may not be   
organic; 
but daily, 
during this season of  growth, 
I am energized and  enriched 
by my pink and white  geraniums, 
Gerbera daisies,  lavender, 
rosemary, mint, and  basil. 
The names of plants are in themselves poetic. You’ve done  a good job in 
lining them up in a musical sounding order.   
I have no purple sage yet this  summer; 
nevertheless, in my summer  garden, 
I feel wise and  wonderful. 
(Fifth Stanza) 
On these beautifully bright days   
Or caressing velvet nights of  Summer, 
walks with Willow, 
my fourth Leader Dog, 
wipe away frozen  thoughts 
of salt-covered sidewalks and  streets, 
snow stacked at curbs, and surprising  ice. 
(I do prefer my ice 
in other forms, 
such as iced tea and ice  cream.) 
Carefree, Willow and I  walk 
as if we are at a state  park 
and enjoy the melodious sounds of  songbirds, 
occasional whiffs  
of lavish lilacs and other fragrant  flowers. 
Thank you for taking me on your walk. It was  delightful.  
(Sixth Stanza) 
Oh, Mother Nature,  
you could take this  season 
of Summer-- 
this superb gift-- 
and tie it with a  bow. 
Oh, NO!  No,  you can't! 
Someone from the  city-- 
please blame the  mayor-- 
tied up the season 
not with a bow, 
but with 
CONSTRUCTION! 
Humorous, sadness and anger provoking.   
Delightful poem. 
Val's  Sub 
VThis piece has  Love, hate, forgiveness, and pain, a fall from grace, 
pleasure, sorrow, and  grief. What more could you ask for?  The poem 
encapsulates a whole lifetime in a tiny space, in the best  poetic way.  All thumbs up. 
  


Father



I  remember 

sitting on your lap

at five and six years old

as  you sang songs to me--

Let Me Call You Sweetheart,

A Tree In A  Hole 
An ideal, or  idealized, relationship with a wonderful Dad. 


I remember  

walking to the park 

as the sun began to set, happy until 
you  threw a softball, telling me to find it... 
If the reader did not  know that the writer was blind, they might miss the 
full import of why this was  so bad. I’m glad you did comment about your 
limited  vision.

Desperate, I ran through grass,

tripping on rocks,  wondering why 

you expected so much from me

and my very limited  vision.

"She's lazy!" You yelled later to my mother. "She has to exercize  that
eye to see better." 
This boils my blood. Did  he think you were faking it? It’s possible he had 
good intensions, but that kind  of denial and ignorance is hard to stomach.

In bed, not asleep, I hid  under 

my blanket, wishing I would disappear, then, you  wouldn't

be mad. 
The dynamic of having  established such a warm and trusting relationship, 
to have it turn around to the  opposite is heart-breaking. You were in an 
extremely vulnerable emotional  setup.


Sickness, pressure and calamity

drove you to the  bottle, beligerence 

and the belt--it never hurt as much
as the raging  words 
that cut my spirit--ragged declarations 
pouring in to my  soul... 
Consider putting in more  detail here.


When you died, I had no tears,

numbing,  coarse sadness for a dad

I lost years before.



Now, I see  your illness,

alcoholism and feeling lost.

Twenty years on, grief  came in

looming, unyielding waves,

crashing through rocks of  fury,

heartbreak and sorrow, leaving a clean

place for you in my  heart. 
Terrific verse.  It is very accurate in describing the  process you were 
going through.


Rest there  comfortably,

shadows move away

as I now sing to  you. 
Strong  finish. 


Valerie  Moreno
______

I love this  piece. 
Brad's sub 
This is an  archetypical tale of renewal or the banishment of darkness.  
Your descriptions of the perilous  terrain the heroes had to traverse were 
particularly well done, as were the  descriptions of the characters themselves. 
The story is rich in symbolism. It  would be fun to explore them. 

The Long Awaited  Quest
C By Brad Corallo
Word count 600

After traversing the be  fowled swamp and bog land; where they encountered
dangerous, sucking  entrapping muck. Where constant swarms of loathsome
buzzing, flying biting  insectsdrove them nearly to distraction.  
“Nearly to distraction  is too pedestrian.  They were  probably driven 
nearly or beyond insanity. I would be. 
And they
moved  among putrid smelling expanses of stagnant water which emitted a fog
like  effluence that made eyes run and stomachs heave:  
Wonderfully disgusting  descriptions.  
they arrived at  a
grey, stony waist land with mounds of old bones scattered about. Though  a
cold damp wind swirled dust about their steps, the God forsaken place  was
almost a relief after the bogs. They pulled scarves over their noses  and
mouths and went on doggedly. 

They were an unlikely band of four.  At the rear of the party trudged an old
woman. Though her hair hung in wisps  and she bore many wrinkles her 
features
were set in an expression of  determination and resolution. 

Before her strode a beautiful young woman  with long flowing auburn tresses.
Though she was attired in only a robe of  many colors and sandals she seemed
unaffected by the wind and dust which  swirled about constantly. Her
expression of immeasurable kindness never  wavered. 

Their apparent leader was a thin, dark skinned boy dressed in  beggars' 
rags.
Though he possessed only one arm, a sword and an ornate copper  hunting horn
hung on a sturdy leather belt about his waste. At his side a  young wolf 
with
startlingly intelligent blue eyes paced. He seemed to be  finding their path
forward and the young man would lean upon him when the  terrain became
difficult. 

And so, our rather unusual band of pilgrims  came to the final desert. 
Though
each carried two large water skins on cords  across their shoulders, there
were many leagues of burning sands before them.  During the day the
relentless sun burned their bodies so that the icy cold  nights were almost 
a
relief. They would huddle together in a tight group for  warmth until the 
sun
rose and they had to go on.
The times when they made  their best progress were just before sunrise and
just after sunset.

It  took five days to cross the desert and they arrived at the mouth of a
lush  green valley with crystal streams and small water falls flowing into
cool,  clear, sparkling pools. When they beheld this vista of almost
inexpressible  beauty, they stood as if turned to stone. Time seemed to  
stand
still!

Until, their leader took from his belt   
How about, “He took  the copper, bejewled horn from is belt.” 
the copper, be jeweled  horn and sent
forth a resounding blast. After he did so three times; a dark  prominence
began to push upward out of the sward of green grass before them.  With it
came a dark whirlwind and an aura of paralyzing terror. The three  joined
hands and the young wolf pressed himself against the armless side of  the
boy. In unison they proclaimed in loud ringing voices: "We have  come!
Together we stand and deny the power of your evil forever. You are  nothing!
You cannot stand against us! Be gone, and trouble this world no  more; until
time itself comes to an end."This sounds reminiscent of  Christians casting 
out the Devil. 

There was a flash and an almost  inaudible wail, followed by a deafening
silence. Then softly at first,  birdsong which seemed to come from
everywhere, slowly waxing filled the  silence with a joyful music of 
serenity
and renewal!


This piece is  dedicated to the memory of William Cates perhaps the greatest
English teacher  ever. It was inspired by the many legends and tales of The
Dark Tower to which he introduced me. May the  fall of The Dark Tower come
soon!

Ah Men to  that. 
This piece has Love,  hate, forgiveness, and pain, a fall from grace, 
pleasure, sorrow, and grief.  What more could you ask for?  The  poem 
encapsulates a whole lifetime in a tiny space, in the best poetic way.  All thumbs up.  
 


Father



I  remember 

sitting on your lap

at five and six years old

as  you sang songs to me--

Let Me Call You Sweetheart,

A Tree In A  Hole 
An ideal, or  idealized, relationship with a wonderful Dad. 


I remember  

walking to the park 

as the sun began to set, happy until 
you  threw a softball, telling me to find it... 
If the reader did not  know that the writer was blind, they might miss the 
full import of why this was  so bad. I’m glad you did comment about your 
limited vision.

Desperate, I  ran through grass,

tripping on rocks, wondering why 

you expected  so much from me

and my very limited vision.

"She's lazy!" You  yelled later to my mother. "She has to exercize that
eye to see  better." 
This boils my blood.  Did he think you were faking it? It’s possible he had 
good intensions, but that  kind of denial and ignorance is hard to stomach.

In bed, not  asleep, I hid under 

my blanket, wishing I would disappear, then, you  wouldn't

be mad. 
The dynamic of having  established such a warm and trusting relationship, 
to have it turn around to the  opposite is heart-breaking. You were in an 
extremely vulnerable emotional  setup.


Sickness,  pressure and calamity

drove you to the bottle, beligerence 

and  the belt--it never hurt as much
as the raging words 
that cut my  spirit--ragged declarations 
pouring in to my soul... 
Consider putting in  more detail here.


When you  died, I had no tears,

numbing, coarse sadness for a dad

I lost  years before.



Now, I see your illness,

alcoholism and  feeling lost.

Twenty years on, grief came in

looming, unyielding  waves,

crashing through rocks of fury,

heartbreak and sorrow,  leaving a clean

place for you in my heart. 
Terrific verse.  It is very accurate in describing the  process you were 
going through.


Rest there  comfortably,

shadows move away

as I now sing to  you. 
Strong  finish. 


Valerie  Moreno
______

Abbie's  Sub 
I love this  piece. 
I love this  over-the-top approach. Everything that could go wrong will go 
wrong. It reminds  me of what a sage old man once told me. “If your back 
wheels ever catch up to  your front wheels, you’ll know you’re in trouble.

STAY AWAY FROM  My TREEHOUSE 
I love the title.  It’s in your face.

Little one, it  looks inviting, doesn't it, A house nestled in an old oak 
tree? 
It's far  from homey.


I don't know how  long it's been there. 
The wooden ladder is no doubt rickety, perhaps  unstable.

If you manage to get to the top,
who knows if the structure  will bear weight?  
Like the cradled baby in the treetop, 
you and  the house could tumble down, down, down, 
land on the ground all  broken. 

The ambulance  would come and take you away.  
I think they are  coming to take you away, Abby. 

You'd spend weeks,  months in the hospital, 
wearing a body cast from head to toe. 
All you'd  be able to do 
is lie there and watch television. 
Dora the Explorer would  get old after a while.
You'd long to be outside with your  friends. 
Are you going to  torture these poor little kids before you let them die?

Your parents  would sue me.
I'd have to sell my house
in order to pay your hospital  bill,
move to a senior apartment complex,
no longer enjoy my own back  yard,
With Trumcare, you might not be able to do that.

so you'd better not  climb into my treehouse
if you know what's good for both of  us. 
I love this.  This would make a great standup comedy  routine. 


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