Thanks, Robin -- glad you enjoyed.

Hi Lori. I appreciate your time and suggestions. Hmm, could be regional differences in pronunciation, but "in all" flows better to my ear. I'll ponder "above the ranges" but right now I'm not seeing a way to get a descriptor in there. It would have to be a very insignificant word to avoid a meter bump, and I don't want a spondee at that point.

I'll post again if and when I can write something new. Meanwhile, I'll just check back periodically to read.

Mary

Less is definitely more, Lori. I like the changes you've made and very much appreciate the time and energy you put into MM, year in/year out.

Mary

Hello all,

I'm awfully rusty but hoping to light a fire under my balky muse through frequent exposure to good poetry here at MM. Meanwhile, Robin's "Breathe in Me" brought to mind something I was working on a couple of years ago, which I haven't posted here before. I am *always* open to critique.

-------------------

"Be a feather on the breath of God." -Hildegard of Bingen

Feather

Breathed into being by God's unbound
imagination,
I am the essence of everything
in all creation,
destined to soar on an eagle's wing
above the ranges,
gracefully drifting beyond the sound
of seasons' changes.

I am a thread in the downy quilt,
beside my brothers,
sheltering nestlings from biting cold
when darkness hovers.
Pivotal, temporal tides may fold
but not destroy me,
borne on an aerodynamic lilt
to guide and buoy me.

I am the spirit of east to west
in acquiescence,
trusting the flow of the breeze that fanned
my holy presence.
Once I am given to understand
the art of sailing,
I will return to the place of rest
through God's inhaling.

Hi Merle ... er, Robin?

We met briefly last year and I recall being very impressed with your style. I'm glad I returned to find you still here, because reading this lovely poem reminds me that my soul needs regular interaction with gifted poets. Thank you!

Would you consider "entwined" ILO "laced" for meter's sake? Either way, it's a three-thumbs-upper.

Mary

Great to see you back here, Sue!

This lovely sonnet has metamorphed into a real keeper since I first saw it. Not to suggest that the first draft wasn't, but as Merlin says, "a little polish never hurts -- look what it does for shoes." Congrats on an excellent job of accepting input and applying tweaks without sacrificing its original raw appeal. I like the effect of the enjambment in the octave -- it kinda lurches along hesitantly as someone with a wounded body and spirit might do -- then smoothes out in the sestet, reflecting a hard-won resolution, and culminating with that beautifully poetic title phrase. The dusk of day's remains evokes an image as far removed from conflict as east from west.

Enjoy that grandbaby's visit, and then let's meet here often, OK? I have really missed you.

Mary

Alan, I first wrote "this royal mess" but changed it to be more all-inclusive.

Steve, that's lots of nines. Yep, we've come a long way. In fact, no one has mentioned the obvious flaw in my premise, as it's highly unlikely an old granny would have plowed into a cattle trailer on a scooter 100 years ago. :) Thanks for reading.

Mary

Merle (or may I call you by your real name?)

You've got the rhyme and meter, not to mention metaphor. down pat. The only thing I can find wrong with this poem is that there's not enough of it!

I'm thoroughly wowed by "bury seeds beyond the rake of therapy." Ah, that is the stuff of poetry -- rich and memorable. I agree with Alan's assessment of the dubious benefits of therapy, but as for graze, I say it's precisely the right word to complement the aura of mystery here.

I'm not buying that third stanza, though, assuming this is autobiographical. You're far too self-aware to exhibit a pasted-on smile for your child. Either way (i.e., whether or not the "I" is you), what would you think about "my smile is wide and she can see it doesn't glaze my eyes" for a snap-shut conclusion to catapult our heroine out of that endless loop? Yeah, I know, that totally changes the meaning, but I'm just a cockeyed optimist and a sucker for wordplay.

Mary

Thanks, Alan. Good calls, all. I've edited to eliminate the double would, which had escaped me, and will continue to rethink months and days. I do see what you mean about that excessively sibilant conclusion. Normally it would bother me too. Hmm, I'll keep it for now and see if it begins to.

Peggy, I'm glad to know your feelings on this. Thanks for the encouraging words. Actually, as little as 20 years ago there would have been little chance of full recovery. A sobering thought, for sure. Better be careful what we wish for, huh?

Mary

I hesitate to post another poem with two still on the board, but since things are kinda slow I hope it will be OK to start workshopping this one while those slide on down. On this day of Thanksgiving, I'm counting my blessings (including new friends here at MM), and near the top of the page is ...

A Hand Up

A cattle trailer stops, my scooter swerves ...
but not enough. Within a blink, my wrist
is shattered, zapping tendons, muscles, nerves
and vital ligaments. They're sorely missed.

A hundred years ago, there would have been
two choices: cut it off or let it dangle,
a shriveled, lifeless paw. Now, skillful men
and women have the know-how to untangle
a royal mess. Through microsurgery,
the bones are reconstructed. Months and days
of exercise, massage and therapy
work wonders, proving optimism pays.

They gave a hand. I'll raise it as a sign
of readiness to serve. It's God's, not mine.

----------
Original L4
----------

and ligaments. They would be sorely missed.

Oh my, Wally, this is absolutely divine. You write with wisdom born of pain, for which there is no shortcut or substitute. I really don't see how this could be any better.

At first I wasn't too keen on the title, but it grew on me. I take it you give "pale" two syllables, in which case your meter is impeccable. If I had any nit at all, it would be to wonder if the heartstrings could be something besides tender. It's the right word, of course, but the expected one, and repeated a couple of lines down. Fragile, maybe? I'm pretty sure thistledown is one word.

The interesting metrical pattern you've devised suits the subject perfectly. That second-line caesura makes me catch my breath in just the right place, and then slowly relax into the dreamy drawn-out line below with a wiggle in the tail before the axe falls in the fourth. Well done!

Hmmm ... what would it look like with those heptametric lines unbroken? I'm assuming you tried it both ways and made the better choice, but I still want to see for myself.

A mountain gladiola, like the sunrise,
held me in her passion years ago.
Her fiery kisses scorched my tender heartstrings till I cried.
Eventually I broke and let her go,

I found a Celtic lily lost and wilted,
nursed her back to joy with tender play
then lost my soul within her mystic eyes of north-sea cloud,
and died the day she took her love away.

A pale rose more lucid than the moonlight
found my heart beneath the desert sky,
she fetched my soul and pointed me to life beyond tomorrow
but vanished when I turned to ask her why.

In evening light I see my battered life on barren ground
with thistle down and nettles scattered round.

Beaucoup merci, Mr. Dittier. You sure do write nice critiques!

Thanks much for looking in on this, Lori -- I know how little time your admin duties leave you for commenting. I'm glad you enjoyed the poem. And you've done me a service in sending me off to consult my grammar, where I learned that these are called serial commas. (optional)

http://grammar.ccc.commnet.edu/grammar/commas.htm

Thanks again for the nudge, Merle. Ha! Best to be wary of those lights at the end of the tunnel, huh?

You've got me pegged, Wally -- a shameless meter freak. Takes one to know one. Thanks for watching with interest.

Mary

Thank you, Ron. Here's a link to the words for you: Clickety-Click

Inserting an edit of those first two lines to soften my insensitivity toward the real victims, for which I apologize. There is a better word than predicament flitting around my periphery, but this will serve as a placeholder until I get a net over it.

Feast of St. Salesman You tickle me, Leo. Thanks for the vote of approval on this. I have unbolded those words the treasure hunt in perpetuity.

Brent! You darling man, I am so glad to see you here. C'mon and play now.

Mary

Ha! Okay, sweetie, let me just fasten your bib and then I will tell you a tale of Yoda-speak. Love I you.

Inverted speech is simply backwards-talking. It is common in ye olde verse because people actually talked thataway, but today it generally signals a lazy poet twisting syntax to achieve a convenient rhyme. That is clearly not the case here, because you could just as easily have said, "We'll give Iraq democracy" without disturbing your rhyme scheme, so I'm guessing you were aiming for a loftier tone with it. I have seen instances where inversion is used to good effect, but this is not one of them. It is a specialized tool that should come out of the box only rarely into the hands of a highly trained technician.

Quoting Judie Peet, a dearly beloved departed poet friend known to some here for her passion and unfailing patience in mentoring budding poets, "There is always another way to say a thing." There is much to be gleaned from her archived challenge threads, even yet.

You found another way in S1 to the improvement of the poem. I suggest you move S1/L3's "that" and the couplet's "of" to the lines below, and rethink all those hyphens. I'm a little bothered by the image of them hiding beneath the wreaths -- behind, maybe, but then you must choose whether to sacrifice sense for sound. Would you consider "blood-soaked blooms" for alliteration as well as meter?

I'm reassured by your return to this, as I was wondering if my critique was too blunt.

Mary

Thanks very much for the kind words, Merle. I'm here to learn too.

Mary

Hello Merle. Pleased to meet you. I'm glad you learned something new here, and I especially appreciate knowing how the poem struck you. Hmmm, I see your point. It's directed at the love end of your spectrum, of course. I'm not seeing a ready fix for the other end, but will be giving some serious thought to clarification. Looking forward to seeing more from you.

Mary

Promiscuity? I think you're searching in the wrong place, oh whiskered one.

As for the widespread acceptance, you've got. You can't outkid a kidder, y'know.

No doubt your royalty check's in the mail.

Thanks much, Alan. Pleased to meet you. Heh, those words weren't so emboldened when I first posted, but I just couldn't leave it alone. After revising before anyone commented, I could have just deleted the original and any reference to the X10, but I wanted to leave it as a reminder to self to exercise regularly.

Merlin, I found that weekly challenge forum here. I guess we're about due for another one, so I'll be watching, and hoping you'll show up for it.

Yes, this jaunty little rhyme scheme and metrical pattern would probably be better suited to frivolity, but sometimes "think pieces" (jgd's term) go down easier disguised as light.

Mary

Okay, I won't wait for someone else to say it -- those challenge words stuck out like sore thumbs in the original. I think I was trying too hard to not to let them lead me into a poem about Christmas. But at least the X10 shook something loose. The AABBC rhyme scheme was inspired (somewhat) by Leo & Steve's AABBA experiment. Revision posted.

Mary

"We are human beings, not human doings." -Neale Donald Walsch

The Present

I questioned life at every turn,
compelled by acts and deeds to earn
a starring role
in mine. Control
tenaciously eluded me.

In time I found a stepping stone
beyond the ego's comfort zone.
It marks the way
from yesterday
into the realm of now, to be.

No longer tossed by whims of fate,
I join the will to co-create
a vibrant here
devoid of fear
that thrives on peace and unity.

The present is a lavish gift.
It comes with hands to gently sift
the wheat from chaff.
Surrender, laugh,
forgive, and live abundantly.

---------------------------------------------
Original version w/ x10 challenge words in bold.
---------------------------------------------

I questioned Life at every turn
and wondered if I'd ever earn
a starring role.
Then, bless my soul,
elucidation dawned on me.

Beyond the ego's comfort zone,
there lies a polished stepping stone
that quells disputes,
connecting roots
within the human family tree.

No longer tossed by whims of fate,
I claim the power to co-create
my twilight years,
dissolving fears
and memories. No do, just be.

Accept the Present as a gift
to free us from the past, to sift
the wheat from chaff.
Divide by half
and share this winning recipe.

Better.

S2/L2, would you consider "meant to be" for meter's sake?

Mary (that's me, Leo -- she's Peggy)

Sorry for the shorthand. Thanks for stepping in there, Leo.

M

Lori and all,

This is not a suggestion for improvement, but I don't see another place to post a note of appreciation.

Having posted and hosted at a variety of poetry communities since 1996, I've witnessed the best and worst of site design. The software that powers MM is by far the most secure and configurable in my experience, presenting a professional appearance with well organized behind-the-curtain cubbyholes. I especially like the skins option. (Mosaic is my choice -- it's the first one I saw here, and remains the most aesthetically pleasing to my taste.)

So, thanks.

Mary

Well, I slept too long. Now everyone has come and gone and you've done your thank you note, so you may not be hoping for further comment. I know it's an off-the-cuff thing done for fun, which succeeds as such, but I'm going to critique it as if I think you're serious about workshopping because I need the practice.

Even light verse deserves polish, Merlin. You've hit the nail on a topic that everyone can warm to, but missed a lot of opportunities to apply your word wizardry in a way that could make it truly memorable. Even if you are trying to underscore your flippancy leading up to the trees/breeze joke with other statements that scream novice (such as lackluster title, dull little marching words, bland rhymes, elision, first-letter capping, etc.), I would like to see some assurance that you really do know your stuff.

Obnoxious doesn't seem like quite the right word for meter or meaning. Petulant comes to mind as a suitable replacement. Lines 8 & 13 are both a beat short in the middle.

C'mon, let's see what you can do with this.

Mary