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Poem Title	Poet Name	Critique Given by Mark Andrew Hislop	Critique Date
Can I Borrow Your Legs?	laura j dean	Dear Laura Here: take my legs. I must advise you to be on guard, though, of the memories they contain. Memories of traps walked into, memories of forbidden places where no-one should ever have set foot. Their memory does have its uses, though. They can carry back to me the memory, now imprinted on them by close association, of how precious they would be to a poet I recently met... ... even for one day. Warm regards, Mark.	2005-11-10 02:32:10
Somewhere	marilyn terwilleger	Mazza I can relate to that. Bless you for refraining from self-pity. Let me know if you find the happy medium "between ruin and rapture". I'll take a dozen. Mark.	2005-11-09 18:40:45
At Her Grave, and After	Thomas Edward Wright	TEW Some people just won't stay buried. That's what happens when you take shortcuts with standing on the lid. Haunting. MAH	2005-11-09 18:19:33
In The Presence	Kenneth R. Patton	Dear Kenneth I pondered over what seemed to be obvious "Christ the personal Redeemer" implications of this piece for a while, and then scrolled down to your notes, previously hidden by my browser window. At first that threw me off. But then I though, "Nah, that's just a red herring, thrown in by a wily writer, that would only throw off the less committed." Which probably means I am over-commtted to my first reading! I found it quite visceral in effect. Your clean, unembellished language made me re-feel my own moments of having one of the veils lifted. Raw and effective, and with a very approachable spirituality to it. With or without Jesus H's presence. Regards Mark	2005-11-07 07:10:33
haiku (first light)	Joanne M Uppendahl	Hi Jo The 5/7/5 haiku format works very nicely here used across four stanzas. There's an energy to the rhythm that keeps moving steadily forward though the images, roughly at about the speed of real-time human experience. I felt myself throughout wanting to stick my head through the window of the poem and get a better look at the landscape... ...but I got an eye-ful of feather dust, and banged my head on the window sash. Apart from that ... ... I loved it. Mark.	2005-11-05 04:28:51
Until Next Year	marilyn terwilleger	Mazza Halloween, for an Aussie like me, remains an inscrutable pagan festival that has somehow crept into unusual prominence in such a bible-belt-dominated country as the US. I fear it has latched irremediably onto the Australian psyche, too. Heavens, what is an Aussie to do? First we follow you guys to Iraq, then we start to celebrate Halloween. What next? Install the son of an ex-actor-cum-president's vice president as Prime Minister? This has GOT to stop! Marco.	2005-11-05 03:41:11
Tuscany	Medard Louis Lefevre Jr.	Dear Medard I half-expected this to be a little maudlin, but it's not. I mean, all the feelings, memories, images, etc that could move one to the "misery" you briefly refer to don't actually do that. The feeling this poem evokes in me, when I try to imagine myself as the speaker, is more a kind of amazed wonder at the intensity of the experience, rather than "Poor me". Your unaware mistress has left a powerful trace which far from leaving you bereft has heightened your senses. Reading again, I'm going to stick my neck out further and say that it is a poem of barely contained joy. Lesser poets would have used this as an occasion to contemplate suicide. Kudos to you for holding passionately, and appropriately stylishly, to life. Mark.	2005-11-05 03:22:13
Fishing for Marks, and an Herb	Thomas Edward Wright	TEW What a can of worms. Pity. Apparently worms don't eat thyme. "Tale of two witties": you don't buy their garbage, do you? You deserve better friends. MAH	2005-11-03 06:00:17
I Think of You	Medard Louis Lefevre Jr.	Dear Medard This feels like you have written the last word on unrequited love. No amount of booze or fags is going to lift you out of this living grave. Your structure is smooth and elegant, the repeated references to your drugs of choice effective and absolutely unobtrusive. You kind of make me want to grab you by the shoulders and give you a good shaking ... if your life had no meaning for this person, you can be sure your death will be, as you suggest, something that will not ruffle their senses in the slightest. Nor will they appreciate your poetry. Until, of course, it's far too late. Best wishes Mark	2005-10-02 01:34:48
With Grace	marilyn terwilleger	Dear Marilyn The smile of someone you love, called from this life? Touching, without being sentimental. God bless the short poem. Warmest regards Mark	2005-10-02 01:25:07
Penetrated	Dellena Rovito	Dear Dellena Considering I have a tendency towards opacity, this caught my attention. You don't give any clues that I am bright enough to pick up as to what exactly is "incoming", but its menace seems clear enough. Or perhaps I should say, its menace seems apparent enough. "Confirmation resides in the discard" ... are you saying that the judgement we discard (true vs. not true, seen vs. unseen) gives us an insight into the particular object under consideration that the judgement we accept is not giving a complete picture of? I guess my question tells you how I am reading the poem, that it is deliberately non-specific about what is incoming because, potentially, everything is incoming ... disease, a sunset, luck, ideas. How do accurately, fully, perceive/judge anything that comes to us unless we also accept and incorporate what we naturally want to reject about it? This one strikes me as a poetic equivalent of the point-of-view gun in "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy." I hope it was meant to be as deeply philosophical as I am reading it to be. Otherwise I'm gonna feel a right berk. Mark.	2005-09-30 09:14:48
If I Could Fly	marilyn terwilleger	Dear Marilyn Hoping to fly, to weave a way, I think you achieve lift-off by the last line. Or perhaps to put a finer point on it, the last line makes me realise that you had actually taken me along for one of your flights. But I wonder if you give yourself proper credit for the trip? Stanza 4's dissidence, frustration, struggle seem to hint that you may not. Maybe this will be one of those works you look back on in time and think, "Gee, I did achieve lift-off after all." I imagine you'd look rather fetching in a sand-white sari, standing on the bow of a sampan sailing beneath London Bridge, as you sway to the strains of Puccini. Fly baby. Fly. Mark.	2005-05-16 04:37:25
Cursed	Dellena Rovito	Dear Dellena The poet is not cursed, the poet is simply a human mouse trying to stare down the cobra of an intellect that knows too much for its own good. Or thinks it does. Unfortunately God built us so that the total psyche is infinitely larger than the ego ... as Jung puts it, with respect to the psyche "we are not the masters of our own house"... And you have captured the dilemma very nicely: the weightiness of the decisions to be made and the tenuous shape-shifting basis on which to make them, all rolled up with a good dollop of angst and discomfort. I'm glad you didn't run away ... would never have gotten to read this if you had! Mark.	2005-05-16 00:42:55
Early May, the Motherless	Thomas Edward Wright	TEW Henry's a greedy SOB. He deserves to be blue. Of course, that doesn't mean that I don't sympathise. MAH	2005-05-15 14:13:38
Around the Block	Mell W. Morris	Mell-O Um ... yeah. I gather you write poetry? How else are you so au fait with that problematic god who is forever offering Tantalus handfuls of grapes, whisking them away at the crucial moment, whether you're writing it or reading it? Okay, I snatched a grape from you this time. But it tastes disturbingly familiar. Mark.	2005-05-15 14:11:39
Chains of Command	Latorial D. Faison	Dear Latorial I'm sure you've noticed that it's a white man's Bible, misappropriated from the Semites the white man now despises and bombs. It's a white man's world, misappropriated from those who could not afford to prevent the theft, most of whom could not afford to refuse the white man's bribe, most of whom are not ... ... white. Could you believe otherwise on the day you see a black Pope or POTUS? Only if you could believe his mind was not bleached white in order to accept the post. Mark.	2005-05-15 13:19:43
Love Tide	marilyn terwilleger	Dear Marilyn Dunno who this Mark H. character is, but he seems to be heavily endowed with taste, style and an infallible Don Juan-sense for vulnerable maidens, preferably in distress. I like him already. What can I say but that I'm glad you posted it? Warmest regards as always, Mark.	2004-12-09 09:54:38
Father's Time	Mark D. Kilburn	Dear Mark Spoken like an "insider". Would I be wrong, or just over-psychologising, to assume you've been on the receiving end a less than nurturing childhood? That would explain your frequent nuances on the result of it. Brave work. And if you ARE talking about you to any degree, know that what was undernourished may yet be restored to health. Best wishes Mark	2004-11-05 00:41:06
Digital Poetry	Rick Barnes	Dear Rick Hmmm ... let's see now ... ... 00011011 ... Nup, I count twenty-seven. But then I'm a geek! Best wishes Mark.	2004-11-05 00:26:16
Willwind	Regis L Chapman	Dear Reeg Temple life is a wonderful thing. Do do it full time is even wonderfuller. No need to wish you peace ... you're gonna find it. Best wishes Mark.	2004-11-04 14:21:30
Between Now And Then	DeniMari Z.	Dear DeniMari Nice structure maintained throughout. Reflects the tension matined throughout, the tension of ... what? Awaiting your lover's next embrace? Wondering whether you still exist for him? Both seem to apply. Being forced to put yourself on hold you put us on hold, because who knows what happens next? One query: did you actually mean "devil steel the dream" rather than "steal" it? If he did "steel" it, it strikes me he might actually be doing you a favour. Not bad if you can co-opt the devil to your plan. Regards Mark.	2004-10-31 22:22:32
Your Rainbow	Primrose Maclean	Dear Primrose I get a sense of certainty that the rainbow will be there waiting for you to arrive. I was going to wish you happy travelling, but with your wet lips and gumboots, obviously you're already happy. Regards Mark	2004-10-31 22:17:16
Marriage	Caitlin T Moreno	Dear Caitlin Sad story of love gone wrong. You could have been telling the story of my recent separation ... and millions of others no doubt. Thanks for helping me cry a little more. Tears are precious, too. Regards Mark.	2004-10-29 11:31:35
First Visit	Edwin John Krizek	Dear Edwin I am such a lazy reader, I don't always persist past the first couple of lines if they haven't grabbed me. But this did. In fact, it carried me along all to "I am happy now/All those bong hits" I can tell you the precise word where you lost me: "doc". Your narrative all the way is cleverly deceptive, considering the end you have in mind. But the stark imagery and nonchalant tone underlying the first few stanzas -- the world you very effectively create -- is I believe frittered away by the sudden desperately rising paranoia of "Don't you?/Don't You?/DON'T YOU?" I don't think it is consistent with the character that has brought us this far, he has far too much self-control, after all the years of doing his thing, to just unload all that "talking in code" and virtually "break down" on his first visit. No. I think that you have set up the poem for a much more powerful ending by keeping the tone more sedate, and the facts of his thinking people talk in code kept more subtle. Do you know what I mean? I mean, it is like those little stories about elves and fairies and travelling on a moonbeam that suddenly end "But they woke up and found it was only a dream!" ... that kind of ending always makes me feel ripped off. Why does it have to be a dream? Cant you leave me to decide whether it could or couldnt be real? I think the same thing applies with your piece here. It is like "And suddenly he told everyone 'I'm crazy'" It is too easy a way out. Let him be crazy, by all means, but let us draw that conclusion ourselves (with clear sign posts that we should), because it is more shocking to discover "Boy, that guy is crazy ... he seemed so normal..." than to just face the bald statement. Sorry for waffling on so much but I wanted to make sure I was being clear. I'd rather not give you just a one or two word platitude. Seriously, I liked this very much mostly because I found it very engaging, up to the points mentioned above. And engaging your audience is probably 90% of the battle. Best wishes Mark.	2004-08-18 00:32:30
Tolerance	Andrea M. Taylor	Dear Andrea I have this thing about logic (poems need it as much as computers do), so I am substituting the terms of your poem as you hint at. Sorry to do this to you but your poem begs for it: First pass: Ignorance is blind blind faith Wisdom is learned blind faith Tolerance is blind God's wisdom and our ignorance Faith is God's wisdom and our blind blind faith. Second pass (and I am taking shortcuts here): Ignorance is blind blind God's learned tolerance and our blind faith Wisdom is learned blind blind God's learned tolerance and our blind faith Tolerance is blind God's wisdom and our blind tolerance Faith is God's learned blind blind God's learned tolerance and our blind faith and our blind blind God's learned tolerance and our blind faith" Andrea I hate to say it but you make no sense whatsoever! The only term which is not explained directly by another is tolerance but even then: Tolerance is blind God's wisdom and our tolerance (I stop myself to avoid exchanging terms endlessly ...) Never been a great fan of circular argument ... it tends to leave people where they start ... which is nowhere! Not even the slightest bit sure of what you are getting at here. I am certain you're getting at something but it is not clear at all. My suggestion (obviously none too humble) ... ...revise for clarity! Best wishes Mark.	2004-08-16 14:16:45
Winona, from the High Cliff	Thomas Edward Wright	TEW Insatiable appetite, and says "I do"? Where does one find women like this? Lord, make me a brave worthy of such a squaw. MAH	2004-07-21 03:24:22
Tree	marilyn terwilleger	Marilyn Nice. "it is as undone as a tree can be". Yep. Nice. Mark	2004-06-20 02:53:00
For Whom The Young Bird Sings	Thomas Edward Wright	Of course, with my glove on the ground as I stand in rapt attention, I can never stop myself wondering... ...why on earth can't this wretched god speak English? I think he just likes playing games. Monk.	2004-05-27 18:41:53
Skylark	marilyn terwilleger	Dear Marilyn You deserve good reviews for this. It is light and upbeat and airy throughout. I have a suggestion for tweaking is your last line. I understand the poem is more or less on big set up for the moment when you tell the down-hearted reader to soar with skylark. "Soar with Skylark" obviously addresses the reader directly. It says "soar with the creature which has all this good stuff, it'll make you feel better". But I have a hunch that there may be a touch more clout in replacing that with "Soar, Skylark" (or possibly "embossed and/Soar, Skylark"). First, you don't notice the missing 's' dropped from "soars", so phonically you stay consistent throughout the poem. Personally, I would see that as a gain ... "Soar with Skylark" jolted me a little. But secondly this now says/implies (unless I am indulging in a masturbatory fantasy!) to the reader "Soar, you Skylark. Don't you realise you have these thing in you yourself?" Obviously a slightly different message ... which means it is entirely your call. Just an idea from your friendly big-mouth. Mark.	2004-05-23 19:18:04
My Mom's Motherhood	Thomas Edward Wright	Thanks a lot Oedipus. Love, Electra and the pets.	2004-05-20 06:09:55
The Defining Moment	Thomas Edward Wright	How come hacks like you get access to strange women's rumps? Fat, emblazoned, or otherwise. Lacrymoso? Just cry like normal people! Your truly Frustrated Male.	2004-05-20 05:56:44
I Wish I Could Write A Sonnet	marilyn terwilleger	Dear Marilyn First a little praise: you've got the right number of lines, 14. Now some gentle nits: First: a sonnet (generally) requires iambic pentameter. The only line here that (almost!) does it is "I wish to rhyme of frolics on winsome", but even then (and here's a REAL nit!) the rhythm still stumbles around "frolics on winsome". Second: rhyming scheme. There are several available, the choice of which one though comes down to how much of a purist you are. Though you do have your moments, you haven't used one!! Fundamentally, no line should remain unrhymed, but you have several. For instance... One possible rhyming scheme is ABAB CDCD EFEF GG, another ABBA CDDC EFFE GG. I'm sure you get the idea. What you have, however, is: ABAX XCCD DXEX EE, where X denotes an unrhymed line. You gotta change that!! Okay, now that a couple of technical bits are out of the way ... A final burst of praise... All your ideas and images here are delightful, and read as though they would only be intensified by reworking into a more formal sonnet scheme. It is nice stuff!! The question you pose is one I'm sure all of us ask: "How can I, sad hack that I am, put what I feel about you into words that match and convey the beauty of it all?" A beautiful theme for a sonnet. Now ... Go to it!!!! With very best wishes Mark.	2004-05-10 19:40:13
By The Seat Of My Pants	Marcia McCaslin	Dear Marcia Unless with hubris I have lost my mind A more sincere critique I'll never find Warm regards, Mark.	2004-05-10 00:02:25
untitled - from Nov 2003	Cara-Mae D. Hackett	Dear Cara You probably won't like this crit and I therefore expect to be rated low for it. But since you seem to have a penchant for honesty, I won't pull my punches either, even though as this is my first critique of your work (and though I am obviously by no means a master of the poetic art myself) I should perhaps be a touch more gentle. The title, though insisting on being "untitled", seems as overworked, and yet as underworked, as much of the poem. Does it matter when it is untitled from? It's either untitled or it's not. And yet you go to so much trouble in the body of the poem that I think you lessen what you HAVE achieved by not titling it. I say that because the poem is sometimes obscure (not that that is necessarily a bad thing) e.g. "Pink elephants to lighten the dark soul" and a title ... sometimes ... can help readers find their way through the obscurity. I say this with reservations, however, because I do believe that a poem should leave the reader with something to do ... reading ultimately completes the writing. Regarding how you would like us to bear in mind that the text should be centred, even if this site enabled you to centre the work, I doubt if that would improve it. Again, either the meaning is there or it is not. Physical arrangement of words can accentuate ideas, but centering the text would be as impact-less on your delivery of meaning as having it all left-justified. The only stanza in which achieves what to this critiquer is a poetic cadence is "False idols ..." through to "... more light". In particular, "so that the days are less empty/and the nights have more light" is quite poignant in the context of holding a teddy bear ... we all have them! The rest, though, is generally "too much" in the telling. The best example of what I mean is: "By others who need to believe in something more than themselves to feel safe existing, or by themselves requiring our faith in them to maintain their own bramd of tangible intangibility/and even by the non-believers who pander to both sides of the court, striving for the best alliance". The poem is also hampered by spelling errors: "bramd" which should be "brand", "persistance" which should be "persistence", and "spiders webs" which should be either "spider's webs" or, which I think you most likely meant, "spiders' webs". I think there is, despite my criticisms, a clear intent and meaning here. However, I just don't think you have done your idea the justice it deserves. With (believe it or not!!) best wishes Mark.	2004-05-09 03:13:45
"I Don't Know"	DeniMari Z.	Dear Deni You found the answer but have not given yourself credit for it. Have you not read all the words of instruction for writers saying "write from where you are"? You have done just that. Like a blind man asking for a description of colour, you are asking to see the unseeable. Are you then surprised that you can't see it? Any sense of what you don't or cannot know is almost by definition an ineffable unseeable-ness. And you have captured the question that must burn in all our hearts as well as you can ... ...given that you can't see it. Best wishes Mark	2004-05-05 10:24:18
Afterthought	Michael J. Cluff	Dear Michael What a shock to Mao's system! Nicely and neatly captured. Best wishes Mark	2004-05-05 04:43:01
White, Fallow Worlds	C Arrownut	C What an insightful theme: a common problem faces us and our solution to it is only to reinforce the distances that a common problem could have been the catalyst to dissolve. I'm not sure I can offer suggestions for improvement, not because I think it is perfect but because you may be looking at a more major rewrite that really needs to come from you. Again, this is not because it is intrinsically lacking --- you have chosen a brilliant theme -- but you need to feel more satisfied with it, by the sounds of it. Personally, however, think you have done a fine job so far. "angels of white" seemed a touch out of place ... but everything else seemed real and concrete ... ... and suitably melancholic for the modern malaise of human community. Best wishes Mark	2004-05-03 08:18:44
An Atheistic Affermation of Faith	Paul R Lindenmeyer	Dear Paul I checked your original (Atheistic Faith ... yes?) and personally believe that that was better than this. My usual pedantry compels me to correct your title "Affirmation" not "Affermation". And the "void" somehow gets lost here. Rate me low if you must (and probably should) but this appears to skate to the surface of affirmation. A voice resounding through the void ... but if there is God, can there be void? Or is that that your faith doesn't let you affirm God that strongly, or is your faith in atheism so complete that there can only be void? Is void the only God an atheist knows? Why then cry out at all? I love poems that dig these questions out. You've done it again. I feel certain though that this goobledegook of mine does no justice to your intention. Best wishes, Mark	2004-05-03 08:11:56
What is Rooted We Revisit in Sleep	G. Donald Cribbs	Dear Don Maybe I am just a an old pervert, but it sounds like more happened beneath the oak than a proposal ... perhaps a proposal made flesh ... But it is a romantic and elegiac remembrance of that time, and hope for what will grow from it. I have nothing to add except an acknowledgment of the deep and rugged detail of that night you describe. Peace Mark	2004-05-03 07:56:17
Haiku:Glory	Valene L Johnson	(I am re-submitting the critique I gave your other version of this, to cleat it from the top of my voting list. I dont really expect two bites of the critiquer rating cherry, so don't be too generous ... or too harsh!!) Hi Valene Nice how you've caught a moment where a minor occurence, "a whisper of light", ignites your heart into tumultuous adoration. A small step from the simple to the sublime. Alliteration works well here. I stumbled a little on "strike heart with trumpets blaring" only because my grammatical sense seemed to want to hear "strikes heart". But this is of course your call. Overall, you've captured a lovely moment of ephiphany. Warm regards, Mark	2004-05-03 01:43:48
Rock a Bide Woman	Lynda G Smith	Lynda What ever is being born is taking its toll ... on you. Your stanzas and the pounding that puntuates them are as relentless as birth contractions that seem never to end, and one wonders whether the borning thing will ever ultimately see the light of day. Call it laziness, but I will take William Carlos Williams' advice with this poem ... ... and just let it explode in my face. Which it did ... and I loved it. Score my critique as lowly as "I loved it" deserves. Best wishes Mark.	2004-05-03 01:30:19
As Circles Close	C Arrownut	Monsieur Arrownut The universe: the eternal perennial. What a striking concept. What a view of history, ancient and ours. Reminds me of Oswald Spengler's "The decline of the west", his view of the perennial rise and decline of civilisations and cultures following morphologically analogous and hence predictable trajectories. And all our worries about the primacy of religion or science being little more than sophistry in the face of the decline that is always just around the corner, but heading right towards us. Personal notes: You have combined what reads as modern word flow with a visually traditional structure, where my eye/ear seemed to clamour for more traditional tricks of the trade. You win: my reading is not that skillful. Pedantic notes: Is "affaires" of S2 a deliberate archaism or an error? I'm sorry I read this while I was feeling a bit maudlin ... it reinvigorated my personal sense that the end is nigh. In other words, well done. Best wishes, Mark.	2004-05-03 00:55:15
Gone Daddy Gone	Regis L Chapman	Regis "who will lend my the subtle ear" ... should that read "...lend me..."? That aside ... This reads like a requiem for yourself, and while you may have addressed the topic without fear, you have not done so without melancholy. What dfference will it make whe you are no longer here, who will hear the echo of your existence? "afflictive adherences" ... memories we (or those left behind) cannot escape from ... it is full of lovely moments. Your rhyming scheme, while obvious visually, remains aurally subtle, again like an echo we know is there but have to keep reaching for, keep straining to hear. Are you really gone? Or are you just there, well within reach of those not too lazy to search for you? I would die myself now if I could leave such a haunting memory. Best wishes Mark.	2004-05-02 19:23:20
organ-i	Regis L Chapman	Regis Your additional note asks an important question and gives an important clue. Sometimes it is as if, though wanting desperately to address the Other, we are trapped in a dialogue with ourselves that we hope the Other will recognise as having been directed at Them. The inescapable contradiction of audience. You could so easily be wishing to lift yourself up in your gravitas, that somehow the internal weight you carry will be its own release, its own escape valve, that you will be your own exit strategy, wash away your own tears, and the spirit will move through your own hair and wash away your own faults. Lovely images, poignant and touching. At least, I was touched hearing you sing to yourself ... and whoever else. Best wishes Mark.	2004-05-02 19:11:51
Can I Be Jewish Too?	Paul R Lindenmeyer	Dear Paul I understand that for a goyim to choose to become Jewish is for that person to be considered MORE Jewish than one born to the faith. Does "jewishness" for you mean that you must deny Jesus three times? You say "deny thrice again" ... do you mean for Jesus to be denied again, or for you to deny again? I get the sense that it is the latter, so you would seem to answer your own question ... you cannot be jewish, too, if jewishness lies in these denials. And yet, as you say, you Lord was jewish too ... does that then mean all who do not deny are also jewish, by definition? What a complex ask you have presented. But it deals with the heart of the "disconnection" of judeo-christian religion. Why do christians still honour the old testament, while jews deny the new testament entirely? The problem of the "Messiah": if Jesus wasn't the Messiah, as jews say, then is the whole new testament just a lamentable appendage upon God's True Word? Perhaps we need to know what jewishness means to you before you can answer your question. And wasn't it a christian, Peter, who denied Christ three times? Peter, the rock on which the church was built? Complex, complex, complex. Thank you for getting me thinking. Warm regards, Mark.	2004-04-30 04:26:06
Night Moves	Lynda G Smith	Dear Lynda I am hard pressed to decide if this is an ordinary garden variety domestic dispute or something more serious ("bruised and battered") or if that expression was meant psychologically rather than physically. The poem seems to imply that nature/night, in its own natural drama, flows in its course oblivious to the dramas that unfold below. However the morning after is like a blue sky after rain. Whatever the dispute was, it also followed its natural course ... "winsome moment" of reconciliation after the "winless fight" ... agreeing to disagree? ... the standoff that often characterises the resolution of disputes with a partner. Your structure is engaging. "Overhead" ... "divisible" ... "beneath" being the waystations, the endpoints, the delineation of the field/s of conflict. Night is trouble, fearsome; day brings calm, possibly the calm preceding another nighttime storm. "Trick of mind and matter" is a interesting comment on the process of reconciliation: is it just a compromise? Do we just "do what we have to do" mentally just to able to keep on going with these unwinnable wars? I found this piece very dramatic and engaging. Warm regards Mark.	2004-04-30 04:06:57
Haiku:Glory	Valene L Johnson	Hi Valene Nice how you've caught a moment where a minor occurence, "a whisper of light", ignites your heart into tumultuous adoration. A small step from the simple to the sublime. Alliteration works well here. I stumbled a little on "strike heart with trumpets blaring" only because my grammatical sense seemed to want to hear "strikes heart". But this is of course your call. Overall, you've captured a lovely moment of ephiphany. Warm regards, Mark	2004-04-30 03:51:16
Blue Dragonfly - Revisited	Joanne M Uppendahl	Dear Joanne You've captured here what I imagine most nature lovers feel when encountering one of god's splendid creations, the "you beautiful thing, stay, just a moment longer, so I can adore you more!" Gently you tease out the dragonfly's presence, imperceptible in its camoflage but for the movement of its head, sensitive to whether it will become mate or meal. You, of course, are neither. "Just" an admirer... Who cannot be left wanting their "splendor hunger" to be sated more by these chance encounters with beauty? Nicely done ... Warm regards, Mark.	2004-04-30 03:46:06
"Hill's By The Sea"	Cathy Hill Cook	Dear Cathy The poem speaks of a precious place, but I fear it does so a little too "tellingly". You only start to hit your stride in terms of imagery when you get to "God's countless people". Perhaps you intention was to keep it simple, but at the risk of being too tough on you, I think it is too lightweight, considering the ideas and overall feeling you are working to evoke. For instance: "Where we are so fortunate to experience one of God’s many wonders that we have known. There somehow its atmosphere lets our worries and frets fall and melt so free, The experiences at the Sea Shore are so very Spiritual for our family." I don't want to try to put words in your mouth, but there is too much "telling" here. How does it feel to feel fortunate? What could you compare it to to describe the specific kind of fortunateness that YOU feel? What makes the expepriences Spiritual? Why should we believe the simple assertion? You have to show us these things from the inside, as it were. From YOUR inside. Also, you need to watch your spelling and punctuation. You had "immages" in one place and "Gods" when it should've been "God's". I know that's pedantic, but mistakes like that usually grate on most readers. Nevertheless, you have much to draw on that with some work could be made into a moving piece about connection with home. With love Mark	2004-04-29 21:23:37
Majourney Well	Thomas Edward Wright	Tom This only one, was she the mother of your child/ren? What a treasure she was, "the careful chord". Whoever she was, you see where she's going, and miss her, driving wind and guiding rudder to what was childlike and growing for you. A very tender valediction. Mark.	2004-04-21 09:55:18
Poem Title	Poet Name	Critique Given by Mark Andrew Hislop	Critique Date

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