Critiquer of the Month for March Nominations, now through Apr 5th Options Track this topic Email this topic Print this topic Download this topic Subscribe to this forum Display Modes Outline Switch to: Standard Switch to: Linear+

[Cleo_Serapis]

Calling all writers of the Mosaic!

The time has come to nominate a member who you feel best demonstrated the CRITIQUE in MARCH.



Nominate a member here by replying to this tile.

The award:
*Laurel Wreath

*Graphic provided by
Celtic Castle Designs

The details:

• Choose at least TWO posts critiqued by the member you'd like to nominate from the month of MARCH. *You can do this by utilizing our 'sort by topic started' OR last post date' and 'descending sort' functions located at the bottom of each forum's page display and then look to make sure the critiques were posted in March as well.
• Post the two examples in this thread.
• Post only the CRITIQUES.
• Make sure your example critiques are from the month of MARCH.
• State the tile's name, author and forum the critique was replied to.
• Eligible forums:
  Herme's Homilies and Seren's Synapse for poetry COM nominations
  Stonehenge and Loch Ness for Prose COM nominations

Nominations will be taken through April 5th, 2007.

Additional note: If more than one member is nominated for the COM award, this tile will serve as a balloting process. We will create a POLL and the members will vote the winner.

Good luck all!
Thank you for helping to build the Mosaic!

~ Mosaic Musings Staff

[Guest_Cathy_*]

Oooops! I'm sorry this is a bit late but if it still counts...

I would like to nominate Eisa (Snow) for COM. Two examples...

Dinner's Served by Kathy in Seren's ~

Hi Kathy

This one has me rolling about laughing -- what a sense of humour you have!




QUOTE(Kathy @ Mar 21 07, 06:30 )
Dinner's Served.

We sit around the table. Mother serves
the meal, and we begin to eat, as clouds
of moths arrive to wing in spirals; fling
their bodies at the light, where they collide
to flutter stunned on to the table-cloth.

You have described the scene so well, this reader is intrigued and is drawn straight in. Clouds of moths is such a good description

A moth has landed in the gravy, where
it struggles desperately before it drowns
and spreads a milky stain of sodden scales.
The youngest child lets out a wail, "Oh no!
A moth is in my food. How can I eat!"

I wonder if �I cannot eat!� at the end of this line might give just a little more emphasis.

But Father scoffs; says "Moths won't kill you son,
for they're a staple meal for some, look here."
He snatches rapidly and captures one
fat bodied, flapping, dazed unfortunate,
and stuffs it in his mouth. We watch, amazed.

Tee hee! � I am amazed too!

The moment's led the man and moth into
a trap, and in a trice it dawns on him;
the trap is his big silly gob. A blob
of mothy-stuff is on his tongue, his eyes
go wide; he feels that wriggle there inside.

L1 -- I think 'The moment ....' might sound better

I wonder if you could think of another description other than 'mothy stuff' -- mothy dust? (oh yuk!)


And then we laugh. He has to swallow now
and when he does we lean back in our chairs
to gasp for air, collapse in helpless mirth,
and brush our tears away with shaking hands.
But Travis ate his meal, and now, though years

have gone, when moths fly round that time of year
we smile and call, "Hey Peter! Dinner's here."

You have described so well the laughter that I love to feel -- wish it would happen more often.
.
I�m so glad I�m not the only person who writes about eating insects. I wrote one (The Leopard�s Den) about crickets being fed to leopard geckos.

This is hilarious Kathy and I loved the squeamish enjoyment I got from it.



This is written in such a realistic way, I have to ask -- did it actually happen?

Snow


Lost to Altzheimers by Kathy in Herme's~

Hi Kathy

Your title immediately drew me in to this as my mother had Alzheimer's and as I read this (with tears in my eyes) I could see her spinning down into the fog as in your poem.

This is so beautiful in its poignancy, it's metaphor is subtle and your meter is superb. You curtsied to my Candy Clouds -- I return the curtsey here.

This is difficult to nit, but I'll try


QUOTE(Kathy @ Mar 19 07, 06:54 )
Lost to Alzheimers.


It's cold. I wake alone and crawl to blow
these embers into life. The mist is damp,
diffusing sunset mystically. A glow
extends across the lake where, from my camp,
I see a vee-shaped flight of ducks appear
at vision's end. They beat, beat, beat in line
becoming slowly clearer as they near
the shore. I count them. There are nine aligned

Perhaps 'It's cold' is passive as NDG suggests, but I can understand it. Perhaps 'I'm cold and wake ...'
personally I like the 'beat beat beat' as it makes me feel the rhythm of their wings.

I can see why NDG has mentioned 'at vision's end' (though I don't thinkI would have thought of it myself) as it leaves the question 'whose vision end?' perhpas rearranging words a little you could use distant instaed of visions end ~

I see a distant flight of ducks appear
vee-shaped and hear them beat, beat, beat in line

but one is falling, spinning down to crash
in frantic thrashes; suddenly its gone,
adrift in ashen fog. No ripples splash,
and all the other ducks keep flying on.

Perhaps

and all the rest continue flying on

I'm so afraid. I've tried in vain to spark
your memory to life. It's cold and dark.

This change at the end hits very hard (especially to me and others who've been there) and conveys the helplessness and loneliness that's felt.

You've done a wonderful job with this Kathy

Snow