[Critique Group 2] Leonard's comments for November 2018

[tuchyner5 at aol.com]

Abbie




 


I love this  poem.  It is full of pathos and sweetness. Itdefinitely pulls at my heart strings. 




 



 


A VISIT TO AN ELDERLYMATH TEACHER


 



 



 


In the seventh grade,

a teen-ager with dreams

of making it big in the music scene,

I couldn’t have cared less about mathematics, 

Consider ‘for’instead of ‘about.’




 


struggled with equations, fractions.

He was patient.


 


I was never famous.

I wonder why youincluded this line. Whyy is it relevant?




 


Almost fifty years later, 

after performing at a retirement home,

I approached the old man, 

shook his frail hand, 

gazed into his tired eyes.


 


“Do you remember me?” I asked. 

“I was one of your worst students.”


 


“No, I don’t believe that,” 

he answered in a halting tone.


 


Did he not recall, 

or was he being kind?


 


Alice

This many layered piece is profound. My comments were made without reading your hints. I thought that wouldbe cheating.  I read your hints after Imade my comments, and left the comments as they were. 



 



 



 



This first stanza has many differentpossible interpretations, and that is a wonderful  quality. There is a play betrween tension and resolution.   Some possible interpretations might include:The resolution of life in the peacefulness of death. It might be saying  that our path is to become a as childrenwhere hurt is resolved in healing tears and sleep at the end of a hardday.  It is possibly a message of hope.Hold on because all will end well.




 


Trilogy:  An Acrostic Trinity ofHumanity



 



by Alice Jane-Marie Massa



 



 



Part 1.  The Clockwork of Humanity



 



Hold on, hold on--



until



majestic



angels



nestle



into



teardrops and



yawns.



 



Part 2.  Acrostic Crossroads ofHumanity



 A microburst against negativity  may be like a brief flash of light  that turns darkness into something beautiful.A micro burst may have insignificant effect, or it can be powerful enough tocreate a universe. It depends on the condition of the heart.  An open heart or a loving heart  must be part ofthe equasion  to change the world intosomething possitive.  Without thatquality, we cannot understand what a brief opening in consciousness is showingus.  This tenderness must manifest inaction.



How can we



understand



microbursts



against



negativity



if



tenderness



yields to other choices?



 



Part 3.  Untangling Humanity



 Hope untangling miracles  can mean that with an attitude of hope, wecan see miracles. Without hope, we do not see and cannot understand miracles. It might also mean that possitivity  facilitates miracles. So miracles are bothcreated by our point of view, and they are seen through the lense of hope.  Probably both.



Hope



untangles



miracles--



addresses



nightfall,



icicles,



torn pages from



yearbooks.




 


These examples are beautiful. I especiallylike the torn pages.  They are parts ofour life that we have left behind. Either we experience them as things we havelost,. Or we experience them as things we hold in our hearts.   Nightfall is the darkness. Icicles  are the cold knives that cut into our hearts  and minds. 



 



numberof words: 61



------

Brad




 


I think this pieceneeds a publisher.  When you ask, “Whoare these people?” you are saying, “They are us.” In the Passover  dinner, at one point in the ceremonial meal,the door to the abode is opened to invite anyone who is there to come in andpartake of the food. The question is formally asked, “Why do we do this.” Theanswer is, “Because we were strangers in the land of Egypt.”  How is it that we forget this simple truthand obligation?




 


I can find nochanges to recommend. Cudos.




 


The Vast Unwanted

Creative nonfictionby Brad Corallo

Word count 283


 


After Nine days on the road,

almost all of their supplies had been exhausted.

The water skins and food bags were empty. 

Wearily they trudged, covered by the dust of the road.

Their exposed skin sun burnt and insect ravaged. 

The man carried a long knife and

a meter long heavy cudgel hung from his belt.

On her right hand the woman wore a ring

with a concealed spring loaded razor blade 

to seriously discourage wood-be rapists.

Their two children with distended bellies combed the roadsides

Seeking for anything edible or useful. 

The animals, a goat and a dog;

ribs showing through dry mangy pelts,

trailed behind looking for unconsumed crumbs. 


 


Bombs had devastated their last temporary home,

a squalid transit camp belonging to no country.

They had no definite destination;

just anywhere with a chance to work,

find water and buy some food. 

They were part of the vast unwanted.

Ever increasing populations scattered Around the world.

They had no homes, no countries,

few friends still living

and no definite prospects.

Once, they had hope.

But, like the food and water, none remained.

In spite of this, they continued to move forward doggedly.

Because, you never know,

around the next turn, their might be 

a fellow traveler with 

a crust of bread and a kind word to spare. 


 


Who are these people?

They are everyone and no one.

They are fathers, mothers, sons and daughters

swept aside, rootless and wandering.

They are members of the human race,

hated by many 

and shown compassion by shockingly few,

other than some of their own. 


 


Where and when was the kindness and decency of our specieslost? 


 


jamesstarfire at gmail.com


 


Val


 



 
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Date:
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Fri, Nov 16, 2018 11:11 pm
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Stages




 


Child,



growing, yetknowing



she is the reason



parents fight--



her eyes don'twork like theirs.



She feels guilty.




 


Powerful verse. A jolt to the heart. Sccinct.




 


Teen



doesn't fit theunspoken rules...



silently, shetakes in the



mockery and beingleft out...



nothing new, justan extention of



home.



This says so much in such a tiny space.   The lastline is particularly whamo.




 


Married,



she tends house,cherishes husband,



baby girl is amiracle--



a sparkling lightfull of



laughter,goodness and questions.



A beautifuldarling who 



tugs at her soul,



soul aching whenshe's hurt or unhappy.



Of course that is going to change. These are thewonder years.




 


Mom,



suddenly, childgrows distant,



pulling away andconfronting--



battling forindependence from mom,



who cries whiledoing laundry;



dish water hidesthe hurt and turmoil



Clever and sneaky. It took a while to understand how dishwater could do that.




 


that flows downsink hole with agony.



Mom has found her place in the early childyears, after having felt out of place until she became a mom. But now that identity and belongingness is beingtorn away by the natural inclinationss of her child  fighting to find her place as an adult.Beautiful verse.




 


Widow--



Who am I now thattwo becomes one



with"our"and "we" vanish in to



"I" and"me"



jagged loss turnsloneliness



brilliant andflaming,



heart is engulfed,shattered to ashes.



Now she isn’t even a wife.  She is more alone than she has ever been inher life.  This is a well trod path, butno less gut wrenching.  Of course, liferequires continual re-definition. An oasis is just a stop in a journey.




 


Later,



grief there onslow burn, life pieces



spread and lookedat carefully.



The Childaccepted her difference.



Teen now knowsdifference is a gift.



Wife and momwatch her baby grow up,



leave home,



become a woman.



Husband, beloved,lives in her deepest heart.



The years of integration.  The internalized child, teen, wife, motherand widow  goes through grief, lifeevaluation, acceptance and becomes whole, having been processed in life’s ovens. Unfortunately, not everyone doeslife as well as the writer’s subject.   Bravo to the heroine. (The Heroe’s Journey)




 


She writes,



has insatiablelove for



books, music,cats, dolls,



dreams.



Although not perfect, life is mostly , as the songgoes, “So Good.”




 


Stages



weave a lifetapestry



bright, dark,always changing



as time, tearsand prayers



become hercoloring. Book.



Take a boe.




 



 


Valerie Moreno



11-16-18



______



Place your mindin the softness of life's eternal flow...



  -SaintClare of Assisi,1194-1253




 


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