[Critique Group 2] Pieces for 11-29-2018 Pasted and Attached

[Abbie Taylor]

Thanks to Alice for sending me Valerie's piece. Sorry for the delay.

***

###1. Poetry from Leonard Tuchyner

30 lines  minus title and stanza spaces

Hindsight or Foresight

By

Leonard Tuchyner

I long have wished for better vision,

not just by eyes fronting my visage,

that let me know where I could go,

but also for eyes behind my head,

that I might fathom whence I’d come.

Hindsight, they say, is twenty/twenty.

Then one day my wish was realized.

I looked back to the paths of my past

and thought I could see forever.

All flashed before those eyes at my will,

the roadways flowing backward in time.

History must surely show what is truth,

as honest as twenty/twenty eyes.

This postulate I took by faith,

but clarity faded in despair,

as I learned history often dares.

Truth goes awry like some stories may.

I learned that twenty/twenty is

a fable as false as old wives’ tales.

Alas, I discovered hindsight to be

catchable as a serpent’s tongue

that flickers in cloudy moonlight,

with lesser credibility

than tarot cards’ or tea leaf grounds’

claims to discern the future clearly.


###2. Poetry from Valerie Moreno

Stages

Child,

growing, yet knowing

she is the reason parents fight--

her eyes don't work like theirs.

She feels guilty.

Teen

doesn't fit the unspoken rules...

silently, she takes in the

mockery and being left out...

nothing new, just an extention of

home.

Married,

she tends house, cherishes husband,

baby girl is a miracle--

a sparkling light full of

laughter, goodness and questions.

A beautiful darling who tugs at her soul,

soul aching when she's hurt or unhappy.

Mom,

suddenly, child grows distant,

pulling away and confronting--

battling for independence from mom,

who cries while doing laundry;

dish water hides the hurt and termoil

that flows down sink hole with agony.

Widow--

Who am I now that two becomes one

with"our" and "we" vanish in to

"I" and "me"

jagged loss turns loneliness

brilliant and flaming,

heart is engulfed, shattered to ashes.

Later,

grief there on slow burn, life pieces

spread and looked at carefully.

The Child accepted her difference.

Teen now knows difference is a gift.

Wife and mom watch her baby grow up,

leave home,

become a woman.

Husband, beloved, lives in her deepest heart.

She writes,

has insatiable love for

books, music, cats, dolls,

dreams.

Stages

weave a life tapestry

bright, dark, always changing

as time, tears and prayers

become her coloring.


###3. Poetry from Abbie Taylor

A VISIT TO AN ELDERLY MATH 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,

struggled with equations, fractions.

He was patient.

I was never famous.

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?


###4. Creative Nonfiction from Brad Corallo

Hi Group Two,

No matter which position one holds on the immigration issue as it impacts

the United States, I believe we all should be outraged over thehatred and

dehumanization heaped upon refugees by many seeking to divert focus from the

actual problem. Displaced, poor people are not the enemy. They're just doing

what anyone else would do in their situation.

***

The Vast Unwanted

Creative nonfiction by 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 species lost?

jamesstarfire at gmail.com


###5. Poetry from Alice Masa

EXTRA PRELIMINARY NOTE FOR GROUP TWO:  At the November 4 critique 
session of BOE, the following acrostic trilogy received from the larger 
group only a critique from Leonard and a little from a second person.  
Since I know Leonard had a couple of questions about this piece and 
since none of the rest of you offered a critique of this three-part poem 
of only 27 lines and 61 words, I am submitting the piece for our 
critique session of November 29.

If you want some hints concerning one interpretation of each of the 
three acrostics, refer to the note after the trilogy (after the second 
set of four asterisks of my placement).  If you wish, you may ask me a 
question via e-mail to facilitate your preparing a critique.  Having 
written this offer, I do understand that if a poem or a joke has to be 
explained, the poem or joke is not really well done.  Nevertheless, the 
following lines are meaningful to me:  I have even used the first 
acrostic as a prayer.  In general, I suggest that you do not try to 
focus too heavily on the word "humanity" in initial readings.  
Additionally, I recommend that in early readings of the very short 
piece, you do not try to find the connection among the three parts.  
These two points may come later.

After the first set of four asterisks is what I sent to the WPL for the 
critique session of BOE on November 4.

* * * *

NOTE: The following poem consists of three acrostics, each of which 
spells out "Humanity."  The initial letter of each of the 24 poetic 
lines is bolded.  After the title of the piece, each acrostic (or part) 
has a subtitle.

Trilogy: An Acrostic Trinity of Humanity

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 of Humanity

How can we

understand

microbursts

against

negativity

if

tenderness

yields to other choices?

Part 3.  Untangling Humanity

Hope

untangles

miracles--

addresses

nightfall,

icicles,

torn pages from

yearbooks.

number of words: 61

number of lines:  27

ajm321kh at wi.rr.com

copyright 2018, ajm (October 30, 2018, Tuesday)

* * * *

POST-SCRIPT: If you want some hints of explanation about the above 
acrostics, please read on.  If you prefer no explanation or hint, stop 
reading this section.

Part 1.  This acrostic prayer is a plea to someone who is losing 
significant physical, emotional, and/or spiritual strength to hang on to 
life until "his time" or "her time" comes as predestined.  How do the 
angels come for a lost soul?  The angels do finally come with the 
sadness of teardrops and into the tiredness of yawns.

Part 2.  If we are too soft--too tender--how can we comprehend people 
who are trying to show us how to avoid negativity, negative people?  At 
the "crossroads" of negative and positive attitudes, we cannot bolster 
humanity if we ignore the negativity and take another easier, yet less 
admirable  path.

Part 3.  Hope allows miracles; hope helps us to deal with the hard times 
of life.  "Yearbook" can refer to a high school yearbook or the yearbook 
of each year of a person's life.

# # # #

Talk with you all on next Thursday evening, the 29th!

Hoping that all of you enjoyed a very happy Thanksgiving,

Alice and Willow



-- 
Abbie Johnson Taylor, Author https://abbiescorner.wordpress.com 
http://www.abbiejohnsontaylor.com abbietaylor945 at gmail.com
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