[Critique Group 2] Leonard's comments for May critiques

[Tuchyner5 at aol.com]

For Alice 
Often, when I critique a  poem, it is as if I’m reading two separate 
pieces. On the one hand, I don’t  really care about details. I’m only dialed into 
the gestalt of the reading  experience. Does it talk to me? Do I enjoy it?  
Is my imagination stimulated?  Does it sing to me? , Does it touch my  
emotions? 
On the other hand,  details are very important when I read the poem in an 
analytical way. Does  everything make sense?  What are the  layers of 
meaning?  What is its  message?  Are there ambivalences?  What words are 
superfluous?  What questions are left unanswered?  Etc. 
When looking at this  poem in the first way, it makes perfect sense. It is 
beautiful. I love the  humor.  It is heart warming.  I love it. 
When I read it in the  second way, I have questions. There are areas that 
are not clear. But that is  not the way I believe this piece is meant to be 
read. Nevertheless, I’ve read it  that way as well, because. Well, just 
because...  
Could this poem be classified as a poem of the  romance-writing genre?   
It could definitely be in the romance writing  category. 

The Romance Tale of Old Poem and Old Soul 

Romancing the Old Sole,  definitely. 

Romancing the Old Soul 

Old Poem's Romancing the Old Soul 

By Alice Jane-Marie  Massa 
I am Old Poem. 
My lines mark my age: 
my rhymes are wrinkling at the ends. 
My feet that once were stressed and unstressed 
I’m having trouble with the meaning of feet being  stressed and unstressed 
in a poem. What are the poem’s feet? I have a feeling  that this is a 
technical term. Is it? 
now just amble along 
in whatever free verse  
that fits with orthotics. 
I like ambling along with what fits with free verse.  I like the idea of 
the poem going where  ever it is going in what ever way it gets there without 
worrying too much about  form, pattern, syllables, and  the like. 
Now, I know I am old 
because I am afraid of falling-- 
terrified of a line break. 
I’m having a little trouble distinguishing between  metaphor and 
literalism, but I get the general  idea. 
** Second Stanza 
However, Old Soul is holding me tenderly: 
in his warm, arthritic hands,  
I relax. 
This is a lovely, cozy  feeling. 
I rejuvenate in his caress 
until his right hand's fingers 
gently and artfully turn 
my dog-eared page— 
Old sole reads Old Poem seeing her as beautiful as when  she was first 
written. 
once a cute puppy-eared page-- 
languidly to the left 
of where I am duty-bound. 
I’m assuming, duty bound refers to where the page must be  when it is 
turned. It’s a feeling of reliability and faithfulness. Indeed a  romantic theme 
when it comes to an old couple. I love this  verse. 
** Third Stanza 
A-a-ah, the light from the gooseneck lamp 
warms and invigorates two more tattered pages 
which the Old Soul reads aloud 
It’s like old sole is reading out loud to the poem. It is  a way of making 
love and it doesn’t matter how tattered Old Poem is. Perhaps her  age is 
part of her beauty to him. Those pages have been turned by Old Sole  probably 
for a life time. 
in his full baritone voice, 
as he once read before his class 
of English majors mired in verse. 
the word mired is interesting.  Is it meant as a positive here?  It means 
bogged down.  Does it mean that the students are  having difficulty with the 
verses? I want further clarification on that word  application. 
Each metaphor he mandates 
makes me feel like  
the Old Poem I am 
is once again a virgin verse. 
`Nevertheless,  whatever mired means, the way Old Sole  reads it brings Old 
poem back to her youth and she feels young when he reads  her. 
** Fourth Stanza 
The evening sails into midnight's mooring. 
Great line. 
The Old Soul's baritone is now barely a  whisper, 
yet he reads on. 
Once again, he turns a page: 
this time, somewhat clumsily, with less care. 
Instead of caressing the margins of me, 
Old Soul is holding onto me 
too tightly 
as if by this stronghold 
his hands will stop trembling. 
Nevertheless, his actions are making me  shutter. 
Absolutely beautiful  verse.  
** Fifth Stanza 
Oh, sweet Old Soul, 
he is dozing off. 
He is falling asleep-- 
falling ... 
Old Soul is losing his grip on me! 
Perhaps, I will glide gracefully to his lap. 
Oh, no!  I am  falling, falling ... 
falling over his lap, 
tumbling, tumbling, 
tumbling over his knees, 
down his corduroy slacks, 
sliding off his plaid slippers, 
rolling onto the hardwood floor. 
What has Old Soul done to me? 
I think Old Sole is losing his grip.  To me, it seems as though his age has 
 caught up with him and his life is slipping away. He tries to hold on to 
the  things he loves. There really is no break between them.   Their mutual 
dependency on each  other is tender, scary, and romantic. Maybe a meaning for 
line break can mean  the ultimate break between old poem and Old  Soul. 
Oh, my Muse, I have a line break! 
** Sixth Stanza 
9-1-1.  I  need a Poetry Ambulance right away. 
I am at Old Soul's Cottage Lane. 
I am Old Poem; 
and in a most unromantic fall, 
I sustained a terrible stanza break. 
I don’t know whether to take this last verse as humor, or  a metaphor 
concerning the final break between sole and Poem. It’s probably both.  I think 
the whole piece has these two stories going on.  I guess it is up to the 
reader to  resolve this inner conflict. 
---- 
For Abbie 

THE WOODEN  FRONT PORCH 
I like the title.  It’s picturesque and tells the reader immediately what 
the piece is all  about.


With  cobblestone steps and walkway, 
I like this line,  but there is a slight confusion. I don’t know if the 
steps are cobblestoned or  just the walkway. It could be read either way. 

bare of  furnishings, this is where
I stood with a wood chip for a microphone
while  younger brother Andy accompanied me
on an old paint  can, 
Again, a minor  issue. I assume that the microphone was for you to sing 
into. I think Andy was  using the paint can for a drum, but you might have 
meant he was sitting on it  while accompanying you with his own voice or 
imaginary  instrument

also  where rehearsals were conducted
for a puppet show Mother directed
in which  I played Winnie the Poo. 
Mom really got  into it.

>From  here, Andy aimed his urine stream,
leaving Mother to wonder
how the grass  got so yellow, 
I love this  little verse. It’s bawdy, funny, got a healthy chuckle 

then  collected morning newspapers
to be folded and delivered.
When Andy  overslept, Dad found the papers.
His cry of “Ah Hell! Andy!”
roused the  entire household.
I love this verse as well. It’s real. It got me into the  scene.

Andy spent many  happy hours with friends
playing miniature basketball
with a small hoop  above the front door.
I hated the thuds and clatters
that resounded  through the house.
Again, it got me right in. It would have riled me up if  I were in your 
place. But I could have easily have been with the perpetrators of  bedlam. 

One hot  summer day,
we tried selling comic books,
but no one was  interested,
especially since the girl across the street
was selling  lemonade.
I’m very curious as to whether the neighbor girl initiated the  free 
enterprise competition, or whether you did. Or was it done at the same time  by 
chance. anyway, the lemonade won. Must have been a hot day. If it’s any  
consolation, I would have gone for the comics. 

For years, we  traversed the porch
while coming and going
to and from school, the park,  downtown

until the house was eventually sold.
Now, a new family graces  the porch 
I wonder how old  you were when you had to leave your home. I would like to 
know how you  experienced it. 

with a couple  of rocking chairs,
will make their own memories here.
So you have seen  how they decorated the porch. Were you told about the 
rocking chairs, or were  you there?  
It ends on a  positive note. There is not a sense of loss, just nostalgia. 
I enjoyed this very  much. I remember my old porch as well.
--  --- 
For  Brad 
The strength of  this piece is rhythm and   rhyme, the sounds are 
excellent.  I think meaning is compromised to some degree in order to maintain the  
beauty of the sounds.  Nevertheless,  taken as a whole, the message is very 
clear, and I could listen to it over and  over again in enjoyment. 

Prayer To The  Ancient One
By Brad Corallo
Word count 177

Let us join hands  all
on his carpet of grass. 
This is really  knit picking; but carpet reminds me of something 
artificial.  Perhaps ‘sward’ of grass should be  considered.  

The Green Man  returns
and we feel winter pass! 
Leave out  ‘and’.

A wise  being that emboldens
and quickens the corn. 
The rhythm and  word sounds are really good. 

He pipes the  unfolding
the Earth is reborn! 
I don’t think you  need ‘The’ here.

Great  Horned semblance 
I assume this  means he looks like a great horned sheep. 

who's  glimpsed in the leaves.
He kindles our hearts
green magic he  weaves. 
For a people who  live to gather and hunt, the imagined game almost seen in 
the rough would be  quite stimulating.  I thin k their  blood would 
quicken.  It’s also  symbolic of the mating season. 


More than  ever we need him
to be strong like a stone 
I’m not sure I  like ‘stone ‘here.  
It rhymes with  bone, and I know what you mean. But a stone has no power 
unless wielded by  something conscious. Something with blood or sap.  ‘Bone’ 
may be too specific. I think you  are talking about flesh and blood which is 
being blighted by the unnatural  powers. Unleashed by Silicon  Valley.
Against the  silicon chip
and the blight in the bone.

>From Australia to britten
he's known  far and wide.
He lived for the day
for tomorrow he died.
I really  like this verse. Its like, “Gather ye Rosebuds while ye may.” 
This is the spirit  of spring. It’s living in the moment. 
May he always return
to gather  young life.
Let us join in his wisdom
and cast away strife. 
Since  when is spring without strife? Spring brings competition. A life 
without strife  is what we hope for in old age. Spring is not that.

The dice have  been rolled,
there's less joy than sadness.
Before it's too late
let's  end all the madness. 
In this verse,  the true meaning of the poem fully unfolds. The madness is 
how we are destroying  Earth.

For the  Earth is our trust
good stewards are we 
But we are not  good Stewarts. Good Stuarts should we be.
to love her  and tend her
and all life will be free! 
How will it be  free? What does ‘free’ mean in this context?

---- 
For  Val 
This piece is  powerful. I’m not sure, but I think it is addressing the 
issue of how the public  often reacts to blind people. But it would apply to 
any handicap or even of how  some segments of the general population react to 
minority  groups. 
I know, as a  blind person, I’m more likely to encounter over solicitude on 
the part of  others. I tend to shy away from such people, because I believe 
they are not  seeing me as a regular person, but rather a ‘blind’ person. 
It’s very  uncomfortable, and even though their intensions are good, it is 
unreal and  therefore untrustworthy.  
I also notice  people talking to somebody else, who can see, rather than 
me, even though the  subject is about me. It’s another kind of  
depersonalization. 
On the other  hand, this piece may not have anything to do with handicap. 
It might be someone  who is interested in her. A male, a girl friend, a 
social worker or  teacher. 
I Don't  Know

Can I trust you?

More and more, I  waver,
unsure of your honesty,
motives 
Obviously, the  writer has interacted with this person and has reason to 
doubt their  authenticity. The poem starts out strongly, getting to the point. 
Excellent  economy of words.

You call  me "friend",
say you understand me,
then, you attempt to control--"fix" me  as if I am 
broken 
Here it becomes  clear that the relationship has history. Blindness may 
have absolutely nothing  to do with this piece. Anybody in a close relationship 
can face this situation.  The other person is making it more obvious that 
they don’t love or like us, but  rather what they think we should be. They 
want to fix us by changing  us..

Please,  ask before you assume,
listen before you judge,
understand I am able
to  live, love,
share in an accurate
appreciation of thought
These lines  bring me back to believing that the blindness issue is 
important in this  relationship.

I will let you  in
happily, confidently, 
if you see me as
an  equal 
The jury is still  out on whether the writer will be able to lower her 
defenses. She has and open  mind, but she has learned to trust her inner voice. 


Until  then, I'll bide  
my time and  patience,
hoping to be let in
your inner world 
The meaning is;  If you will let down your facades, the face you want me to 
see, and have the  courage and caring to be honest, I might let you in.  I’
ll try to be  patient. 
Boy, I love this  piece. There is nothing about it I would change. 
Absolutely get this  published.


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