Certainly, there are better people to trust with your crafted words. No better choice than to re-evaluate and measure what makes for better writing. Gather no moss…
Perspective through a child’s eyes. Where’s Art Linkletter? Darnedest thing, but life was simpler and easier to digest then. An innocence personified in a child’s eyes makes it all rush back. I’d call this a ‘framework poem’ or ‘transcriptive poem’, and could look to see if these forms already exist. Dibs, unless you want…
Yes, Where did you go, but in a picture frame? A great place to hide. We find acceptance and being honest with ourselves is a hard combo to pull off. But, experience abd true value should have value. You clearly demonstrate something that might seem cringeworthy to one who doesn’t have the salve of that beautiful child. Maybe, it’s a guy thing, but I feel protective of their innocence because of the world today and where it’s headed. It’s not like we can all slip in a picture frame and hide from reality. But, we can. It’s called delusion, equal to a river in Egypt.
Your poem hits thst bar where it shares and intones as the subject of the narrator’s experience. That’s actual irony and beautifully revealed in a worthy, earnest moment, with love. For a writer, I imagine this penultimate with aim to be an authority of which we share — a part of ourselves. A writer could hand away all their dignity holding onto principles standing in a muddy field, doing what they love. How do war correspondents do it? Trust aim for them could include friendly fire, but set out being journalists for others to see even in our own wrinkled perspectives, a beautiful person breathes, undeniably.
A writer who has joy shares. A writer could be warped by time but still find their way back to the picture frame, find navigation that can return to any position where experience teaches, and we are the pupil going forward in life. I’ve had these educators lay on my chest on the carpet where we were Imaginary characters…me learning to be dad…enjoy the accepting love, inspired to create imaginative story the only way their narrative instructions incentivized. I completely put my faith and truth in innocence and never disappointed. That’s where a transcriptive poem like yours begins. That’s another lifeline for a reflecting reviewer to begin, in a framework.
Readers journey thanks to experiences like yours that can further appreciate life, of honesty, of true friendships with innocence. There’s no ugliness with wrinkles, but forgotten experience. But, it’s there. It needed a spark. Now, whether a real moment, one witnessed through a medium, or from the fictitious realm that inspires words, your poem crosses over into our shared reality. It is very welcome indeed. I’m inspired by all you reveal here, what I’ve come to learn about you. It’s rare for me to find a friend outside of the physical realm. I accept you as an idea as much as you are very real, forthright and honorable.
Thanks for putting up with me, as I keep changing frames for all the reasons or because of ADHD. You’re a calming influence on this writer’s bombastic process. I have to go look that up. My words for your are assessment as simple as a child’s. I put my faith in love and a higher power that has the right to judge. I feel you get me or just accept. It’s easy to reciprocate our images of one another. But, we’ve lived. We’ve earned. Now, we share. I’m always amendable to an honest moment like that which you’ve shared.
Thanks and happy camping,
Brian
I spent 3-4 hours reflecting and writing this morning. For this, I earn. I share what I can, ignoring all intimation because I know…me — more-so, every day. I’ll never quit learning, because I am a Citizen Journalist. Hopefully, with good news aim. War to make the world a better place? I think Billy Joel summed it up best.
Let’s buy the world a , according to Mr. Manilow.
Jeff Buckley’s ‘Hallelujah’ just bubbled up in my brain. It choses the soundtrack of my life, due to tinnitus…a story wasted on somebody who wasn’t responding. I’ll save it until research further explains it. Lucky I’m musical?
Interesting narrative approach, as if the voice distances itself from subject and story. It feels less active in this way also, as if some time has past. It’s as if I’ve tuned in when these words echo back, repeating on a loop, as a mind might recall with some doubt. It’s as if some little mystery must remain and the mind searches over and over repeating the same clues.
It’s more likely that needle stuck in that same groove repeating that section of life’s record. Perhaps, it’s like striking a hard object with something sharp, hoping a spark could relight and cull a flame to life. It reminds of so many things that hold us back because we would rather repair the past than begin anew, and take one’s chances. Flawed belief there was only one. If I it didn’t work out before…
It’s a frozen moment, one’s Groundhog Day, only reimagined. If it were someone who disappeared without a trace like a cold case, this could be investigated by the poet further to illuminate where this memory trail goes cold. As retracing steps goes, it’s not much to go on.
There isn’t much evidence here besides the psychology and/or pathology behind how one might realize a dependence on another could have been a lost game with no do-over. It’s good to draw strength from something, with one to count upon. But, when it’s left, doesn’t return, but the deserted one returns to the same surreal scene, time and again, life slips away.
It could remind a reader of making a union with something that doesn’t commit likewise. Lots to consider with little to go on here. I see this delegated as poetry under the Relationship genre. Seems more psychological and romance without more detail.
Brian
disAbility Writer’s Group Reviewer
I used to take care to watch my grammar and typos. Winging it now. I did double check this, though.
I liked it. I like the notion of Winter fingers as motif or metaphor. Obvious, this relates personal experience like a slice of life vignette where no action unfolding, but a scene set. I reflect on the person, relationship, how a new day arrives for me in relation to what you share. This is concrete in many ways with clear and concise language that lands with rhyme. The words are perfunctory and arrive like the linear nature of life…and coffee from a pot properly programmed.
I have gathered from a response I sought to my comment shared in your poem: “The ‘linear nature of life’ refers to the common, but often misleading, idea that life follows a straight, step-by-step path (school, career, retirement) towards set goals, but reality is actually cyclical and non-linear, characterized by zigzags, repetitions, and unpredictable turns, mirroring nature's spirals and cycles, which offers more freedom from rigid expectations. While linear thinking provides focus, it creates stress when life deviates, whereas embracing life's inherent curves, transitions, and interconnected cycles promotes balance and resilience.”
I use knowledge like this to share what I’m learning about routine, how one evolves from it. I’ve learned my life is not always structured, but wildly unfocused…and yet I can put all my energy into one thing with all passion, love and respect…aimless ventures. Your poem is a life of arriving, comfortable, warm, provided. The hydra isn’t outside the door getting bigger and uglier by fighting with it. This is life not of design as much as necessity with creature comfort. It feels earned. When I learn my life is safe, I feel threatened.
This irony of feeling comfortable means I can’t grow. I have not yet earned anything I can hang my hat on. That’s why this poem is so effective. We see others, interactions, lifestyles so different and yet cross paths and don’t have to disturb the other. It’s windows to other worlds and endless possibilities that delusion taught me I can vanquish things, feel justified, and find reward and keep venturing to the next.
But, as with any writing, this is me applying my own energy to it, in addition to understanding and appreciating the tenor, the passion to write and craft something that is the hidden gem in the story of a story not being told — it produces external life in structured thought provided in words for any who read.
I’ll grill everything, even asking my coffee maker, ‘who taught you to make coffe’? How does a machine earn but by doing and meeting expectations. The delivery in the poem’s morning is penultimate here. We arrive because we earn. I will not take for granted as one who struggles, vulnerable, available, yet failed and raged against the machine by bellowing in a well-meaning and non-judgmental manner. Life can be unfair…the harder you work…aimlessly. I’ll call it my ignorance that used to feed phobias I did vanquish.
So, you slay the dragon called poem and put it in your cup the way coffee arrives at a predictable time in a linear life where doing the same thing does produce non-linear reward. And if the power goes off overnight and the coffee doesn’t arrive on time…it’s a new story. And, this is how a neurodivergent mind counter-intuitively thinks…partly by fudging or embellishing but pushing through to explore fully, if half-wittingly, through whatever lens that could be different tomorrow.
I want your life but without sacrificing who I am just to fit in. I see you in this poem and a comfort of a cat…something I know. My cats sleep with my wife, not me. I’m too unpredictable, restless, even for myself. For people who deal with me, I’m with me 24/7, or maybe part of the time. I make peace with that to have one morning like yours and thanking God for serendipity and the blinders on my eyes. It’s a dichotomy between two people that cross paths that echoes for me. I can appreciate what makes people different and yet relatable, the same. I’m the bird observing inside the cage where Maya Angelou would say I’d sing. Knowing that… is enough.
Having come across your newsfeed post produced all this nonsense — above and below. I’ll reread it tomorrow, scratch my head, learn from a scatter gun approach and think about the circuitry of my brain. But, grounded by your story, purpose to a reviewer, not gaming a reviewing system but overzealous, I arrive anew. The shared respect might seem flattery for writers. That’s my discomfort. But, honest sharing and relating as writers has always been my focus. Right now, unfair to you, I’m reviewing for me. Yet, If I could live in an open cage, I’ll sing my life story, trill it.
Thanks for putting up with me, getting all I can from myself with your poem and others like this. I’ve literally written 50,000 review words in a month. Drivvel, padding? Not my aim. Learning, excelsior, yes. I will affiliate reviews like this for whomever is gracious enough to recognize me, or humor me. I will source my comments, even if AI is summarizing a key piece of evidence I need to share with another, hoping it satisfies both our needs. Unfortunate after 19 years I truly know no one. And if anyone believes like me that we leave more than we take, the reward lies there, unacknowledged or not. You honor me by allowing a writer like me in your cage. A very lovely domicile.
Sincerely,
Brian
WDC disAbility Writer’s Group
I will always support the disenfranchised but not opportunistically, because it’s the game and NOT the gamer. Everyone knows that.
Truth: unincentivized, this review would be the same. I got a greater education just for reading and participating here. For that, I’m unapologetically selfish.
Now, to real life matters.
I’ll have 20-20 tomorrow. Idiomatic law provides here.
5877 characters.
This poem is such a coincidence right now, right after I’ve reviewed a poem that relates relaxing scenes with calm influential experience, written to Native American flute music.
Curious choice to have all caps with your offering. I consider…Narrative voice that takes command which some would give themselves over to. Lots of people see ALL CAPS as shouting. But, you use italics to bend the shape of the block letter words to give firm but safe consultation. I think it’s effective, and likely a choice for those reasons.
But as poems go, it lacks a descriptive quality, and quite possibly is not a poem with its structure; but the message has a positive influence with choice of language. I think you can get more from this based on structure and poem influences/devices. Try working in some common examples that show. Nature is a great go to for this reason.
Visualization can be lead with your narrative tone. I just got done reading about the movement of grass and wheat to wind compared to a man’s hair described the same way, affected by the wind. It had also spoken to voice, as well.
I found this offering of yours on read and review (first to come up), so a nice continuum of a calm reviewing run. Best to you and happy holidays.
This is very humorous and charming with a lyrical cadence for a poem that I can see offered as a bit of story poem to read to children. I spied this during your anniversary month, noting you’ve edited it in October. I look at the updated offering with fresh eyes.
Oz gives me all kinds of wonder because of Frank L. Baum’s imagination with the early fantasy stories inspired by his life and hard times in South Dakota. He was legend in our house, thanks to my mom and the storybooks she collected during the depression in that state. I’m drawn to Baum’s movie-based story feeling as if it might inspire the imagination of your poem’s many readers. It has charmed this reader by the invoked presence of Oz-unique characters in harsh situations and reminds of a plucky girl who navigated it all. This bit of his fiction brought to life is removed here, nor relied on, to set the stage for your poem.
I feel you may have re-directed your poem more with leanings toward a Halloween season. There is great rhyme and pacing about this creepy place with its abounding creatures. The description aside, it feels like something that’s setting scene and story to create anticipation for us. It doesn’t get past the fire ants or offer anything like a climax/resolution with this conflicting nature. It’s more likely unfinished, or a set up for something longer.
Your handle on language is well displayed here, does draw my interest, but could use some contextual elements to purpose the creepy crawlies to further have fun with a scene building. I find I have incomplete writes in my blog similar to this, incentivized by activities like contests. Either way, happy to have checked in to lend my reaction, as it were.
Hello. I caught this unorthodox poem as a suggested read and review tonight. I read your footnote after consuming the three limericks (great details, thank you), because I couldn’t figure out if they linked, had a progression as story, or what. The prompt makes for a very specialized poem here, but you’ve produced three worthy limericks.
I’m unfamiliar with the film, but didn’t forget box cover images or avatars from it. I like Kathy’s work in Sister Act. Great breakout role. A sweetheart. Surprised that this film is already over 30 years old, unaware of it’s cult classic status.
The “not really dead part” had me curious, as the first limerick hooked me. I might have to see the movie. Happy to have stumbled upon this. A pleasure.
This is a very entertaining poem for the eyes and ears.
When that umbrella turned inside out and when we seal ourself, I felt as two immersive moments as a reader to connect with. The poem could rest alone on its imagery, but you have fun with the details of the cat, witches and that it is a favorite time of year. It’s charming and effective and compelling to this poet-reader.
This type of poem could inspire a child reader to write in a classroom setting. Letting them imagine these images while the poem lilts and sways can inspire constructively, convert as applied words to paper. It teaches to observe through the joy shared in visual narration. It does not lack in depicting not only the season, but connected emotions, traditions and experiences.
It could feel as lyrical as joyful with the presented colors, because of the flow and order of images to reveal changing scenes. It’s likely most readers will be illuminated by language with depictions that warm and bring to color feelings hiding in hearts that can adapt as their own unexpressed words. If slower paced, edited tighter, it can speak to a young audience to stimulate minds. I could see any types of artwork to accommodate for those young and learning. But, the whole of the poem easily translates as is.
It’s refreshing to see a poem that is and isn’t simplified, as the intelligence breathes with its converse read. It speaks to me and was as easy as a walk in the season into the dark, with man made light to aid and to wait out another winter in comfort. I see the pride with your connection to birth, which evokes the tradition bred. I just missed the season indoors and feel like I didn’t miss it like Spring and Summer. Well done. A joy.
I had started this poem, incentivized by your 20 plus years at WDC, earlier this year. I didn’t take advantage. I’m just happy to have had a chance to revisit.
As a reviewer, I can be compulsive. I meant to send this in recognition of your anniversary, got log-jammed. Still removing these half-a** reviews from my tool. Gah. Thank god ambition finally took a holiday. Happy 20th year here, BTW.
DEAR Dave,
It’s been some time since I started this. Might sound…off a bit. Trying to clean up. This is an inventive poetry form and has some catchy clever phrasing that made it fun to read with a broad spectrum of imagery amid other poetic devices that celebrates the Spring season.
The title line drives each haiku stanza at end. It's an echoing of the season and all that comes with it. There were moments with play on words like 'scramble' in relation to Easter eggs that was nicely applied. The title line made me think, what was ripe? Gardener was tilling, kids hunting eggs, lovers conspiring. The closest is the trill of robins, hunting for eggs no doubt, possibly having built nest, laid eggs or said eggs have hatched.
Really, this is a listing poem of events that with great imagery depict the season to coincide or arrive, with a sort of romantic twist with the lovers. I felt like I was on a stroll observing all of this.
The final lines do rhyme, serving as would a sonnet at end. It adds personification with Mother Nature and new clothes which was the most poignant and attractive line in the poem.
Overall, I found a joyous poem celebrating Spring's arrival in a fresh form that I've never witnessed that functioned quite well.
Compulsory Review for “I Write in 2025” activity, because I committed to something.
Dear Jeff,
I saw parallels of your perspective gained from your teacher/wife to my surgical tech/wife and me. From corporate/Government oversight down to co-workers, something always askew, maybe divisive. Schools are notariously criticized for teacher pay, how they manage, and it can vary widely from small townships to districts in densely populated inner-city? There is a fair amount of failure in oversight to adjust for needs is conclusive for me.
Without looking back…Does the prompt mention what role the blogger takes? Superintendent of school, state or federal oversight? Which reminds how taxpayers money is allocated and the chance not all our dollars are put to work. Less government oversight, privatize? Some communities would have to close schools, consolidate. Still, rely on additional taxpayer support to fund facility projects by public election. Lots of stuff that could weigh on a super of schools. And yes, where to start? Yeeeeshhh. But, every community has someone with generous, deep pockets…I’ve learned as journalist. It creates entitled kids, too. School boards could also be a can of worms. I’ve covered that in my personal bloggings.
You covered a lot of territory prefacing your comments. It gave me a lot to consider. Bad for someone with ADHD. I was struck by the comment that a parent today would have in response for a school authority with behavior concerns. I do see the attitude shift to enable a child’s behavior. My mom, however, ripped into somebody at church for calling me a “little Dickens.” *cringe* I never saw her act like that — a mama bear. Your reference is more of parent denial. Parents don’t own as much responsibility today? I think parents get undermined by social perceptions as inept. Influence suggests I’m a boomer, wife’s a Karen, antiquated and moot for inclusion in conversation, throwing more power to those who really have the money…youth. All in all, makes me consider my own and how they are turning out: How they want…I assume.
Parents (PTA) seemed important when I was a kid. Civic responsibility is a concern; things demanding our time and money are a concern. I also worry of the text hooks, ala Fahrenheit 451. Digital. Books in general. Could lead to modification. They kept revising the Bible via interpretations with many of different minds and machinations. Now who’s covering too much territory?
I can’t comment to the designs or response to prompt, but note it shows awareness, knowledge and is connected through insider pipeline wife. I can say, it’s great for spousal conversations. Thus, informative blog response found by me.
Thank you,
Brian
disAbility Writer’s Group Reviewer
I Write In 2025.
Sorry if typos, caffeine has me a bit off the rails. Or, airplane turbulence. Would explain any and all disjointed response…which I’m aware. If I could give more time… But, a great review takes a lot of effort for me these days.
**As a reviewer, I can be compulsive. The act of writing a helpful review is my aim. I’ve perused your portfolio and found what appears your most recent, edited poem.
HAPPY WDC ACCOUNT ANNIVERSARY!!! from "Anniversary Reviews"
In conjunction with Writing.Con’s 25th Anniversary.
Celebrating your writing this month with a review for 20 plus years as a member here.
Your poem reminds of childhood nightmares, but this feels like someone can’t sleep because of doubt and regret. It’s wrought with tension and relatable emotion. Its brief and could give more visual imagery. It would be beneficial.
I like to think the ghosts represent reminders of things too difficult to fix. It could be a replay of some events that are difficult to digest. Then, a very dramatic beginning to this nocturnal fear in poem. Just as a child, offering any appeasement, as a lie might stall for time or ease tension.
And as I see this is not a children’s piece, nor one that offers advice in moral, there is further replay describing obliquely the black and white memory, sometimes how we dream, or have nightmares. This is and isn’t a dream, becoming surreal, captured in a real world or a dream state.
I find images help a reader visualize this. I can supplant personal details of my own, as this poem serves better as a vehicle for each reader to interpret in unique ways. Anywhere from no money/debt to medical issues or relationships. It doesn’t need to be specified to understand. You describe the hopelessness well. That feeling of being frozen, locked up, really key to it all. It could be a poem akin to an Edvard Munch painting, “The Scream.”
Congrats on 20 years at WDC. Pleasure to read you again and refamiliarize with your writing.
Sincerely,
Brian.
WDC disAbility Writer’s Group
and Account Anniversary Reviewer
FORUM
Closed: (13+) Hosted by Red Wheelbarrow Poetry Group (RWB), a contest celebrating… #1390406 by . - .* ~ *. . -
I had looked in your portfolio one day, read your bio, and viewed some portfolio directions to get a better feel before launching into this review. This poem appeals to me in so many ways, I had to comment, as I consider the value reflected in your poetry observations, in a feeble attempt at feedback.
What I note is the catalyst for “In The Heart,” as my approach to it reminds of the process when any new inspiration comes along and everything naturally comes together. Very authentic and organic offering I have studied here. It feels like gelling, an idea or concept that has formed leapt from the mind of poet to the page, with the adept use of a poetic device.
I see anaphora here rewards my slow study, because of how each repetition slightly shifts meaning as this piece goes. I could highlight ‘in the heart’ each time it appears, considering what it introduces or reinforces in stanzas. I then see progression — noting the repetition ‘in the heart’ deepens the idea here. There’s also emotional movement that reveals for me, going from its feelings or people to one’s own values or identity with validation.
I’m not just spotting the repetition but seeing how the repetition unfolds and progresses. Anaphora applied to poem is the actual thread that holds your offering together. I see it sometimes changes a bit between “For in the heart” or “As in the heart,” but functioning as refrain. The repetition creates a nice rhythm and brings together verses with its anaphora. You have a steady pulse, kind of a heartbeat, reinforcing the poem theme.
I see it building emphasis with this layering, as the meaning of “in the heart” expands — from (never change) to (never leave), clarity coming from (crystal clear) to what’s valued (treasures/secrets), and finally to identity (tells who we are). You keep the heart at the center, maybe structurally on purpose. It keeps these images with contrasts and added assertions circling about your core metaphor.
I think of waves sometimes, what influences, yet how little seems to change from lunar love, despite erosion over time. But feelings, people, and thoughts can shift or fade, while the heart here holds what is enduring. The poem illustrates strength in convictions, which I admire. Because, a heart shouldn’t be muddled with foggy thinking but persevere through what’s the most important. With treasures, love and identity, you illustrate where one’s essential self is defined.
A subtle variation is happening, too. In a way, you keep the repetition from reading mechanical while maintaining theme/poem unity. This reads more stylistic with a meditative type rhythm, keeping a good structure and reinforcing your central metaphor: that the heart is the keeper of what is lasting, true, and defining.
By the time the anaphoric waves hit the shore I’m struck by your summation profoundly:
For In the heart love can grow.
As in the heart tells who we are.
I’m reminded we can rely on ourselves over time, once affirmed. We grow in love of ourselves, our life, creating more love to give. And we can identify ourselves in this emboldening process. This is some of the best wisdom I’ve read on this website in 19 years…better than anything I’ve approached myself. So, for that, thanks for the sage words shared.
Sincerely,
Brian
WDC disAbility Writer’s Group reviewer
It started out as an anniversary review but got stuck in one of life’s quagmires. The dirt never seems to completely wash off.
Soggy and stained where I sit and compose.
This poem seems deeply personal with its sensual theme. This is intimate exploring of a sexual encounter (feels like the first), as the speaker experiences physical sensations that imply nature’s romantic visions.
The imagery has bursts of energy in collected phrases making a powerful connection to nature, with "birdsong," "surf," "sky," and "forests hollow" to describe one’s partner and the physical encounter itself. You progress from the knowable sense of entering when you offer “when I entered her,” lighting up the engine of what’s to come.
You give detailed description of physical touch and emotions with physiological responses. The "trembling orbit" and "high wind in her forests hollow" are profound in a sort of cosmic experience. You add, "negotiate a treaty between cowardice and lustful trust" which made me stop to ponder. I decided it’s more than a hint at vulnerability but complex a reverence for her in the encounter.
The verses yet get more explicit, describing "fingers whispering sound," "thigh impaled on a lance of tongues," and "honey flowed from the split cup / on the tips of her breasts on her navel / along with the privilege of her nipples," all bursting with physical feelings carving a space between spirituality and the act itself, as it feel strange and yet exhilarating, maybe with some reserved shame.
The final lines are equally intense, an overwhelming climax, with pleasure and a form of ecstatic "pain" intertwine. It felt raw and visceral, like good sex should leave one, adding that this is emotionally charged.
For me, this reads a bit spastic, as one might have thoughts and phrases during intercourse. But the nature themes give it a romantic, if not life altering quality. It felt primal and uninhibited with this connection. Somewhere along the way, it almost seemed mythological, depicting oral sex and the release of pleasure. Beyond where the body is pushed to its limits of sensation, so too the mind.
I found many metaphors worthy of note, like "forests hollow" or her body as a "trembling orbit,” showing intensity…plus, "lance of tongues" for oral stimulation. These metaphors gave authenticity to the experience, making more profound and symbolic.
Your poem is heavy on sensory imagery, appealing to sight, sound and touch, while some nature elements may evoke sense of smell and taste indirectly. I like personification here…though, not completely personifying the inanimate, nature’s elements and body parts come to life.
And, use of enjambment, where lines run into the next without punctuation, creates a sense of bursts like urgency, as the unfolding sexual act and this raw narrative intensity. The physical connection created a profound emotional and spiritual experience intermingling. You’re really capturing in the moment. I could say, it puts the reader there, especially in the mind.
I appreciate vulnerability and trust with that "treaty between cowardice and lustful trust,” taking an emotional risk and the following reward shows revelation is good. Feelings of this intimacy make it classier. And, consistent use of nature imagery portrays theis partner's body as a vast, beautiful, and wild landscape to be explored and experienced. There is a comparative at work there showing the value of the experience.
In the end, "howling into entrances / through lungs of pain," put this reader at the pinnacle of pleasure. Very intense, as it borders on pain, (“Hurts So Good”). Really brought it together.
Very authentic, well expressed with a sort of mindfulness happening. It was well done expressively.
Some great points. Taking care of number one can ease burden. It’s well stated in what you offered here. I’m using similar processes, mostly from indifference. Trying too hard got me a bit wound up and abandoned in the middle of nowhere.
Friends are great for sharing, and ultimately where you take these statements to prove that they feel comfortable around you as you have acclimated your life to live more efficient and find happiness awaits.
Very calm and serene sentiments. You share because? Is this the nucleus for something, or laying out a note to see where it goes? Maybe, as labeled, a writing sample?
I found this on the website’s read and review link.
With steadfastness that ‘backbone’ becomes strong. It’s a great word to propel your poem to show how faith in God gives us that power from commitment in return.
Using him as a hand at the back is also a great visual to show, as you choose these interactions to inform readers through a thankful speaker. This, along with many other devotional poems of yours that I’ve taken time to consider, make for great devotional reads. Like daily bread. With coffee in the recliner when all is quiet.
I wish we could connect deeper with scripture to have reaction to some of the lessons. Maybe, come up with a few songs, lyrically, to sing praises. Words from hymnals are especially powerful. A favorite, “Standing on the promises…” is on a loop in my mind now.
Thanks for sharing. I spotted your note in newsfeed this hour.
I found this on the read and review link, so apologies in advance if accidental finger swipes make something undecipherable. Phew! Spelled it. No autocorrect, but no help suggesting the word either.
I want to be more engaged with your quote at the outset of "Leave Like a Slammed Door or a Whisper?" . I liked the image my kind created of Frankee in heavy, wet garb entering scene, chewing the scenery, as some silhouette in the doorway, darkness and inclement weather behind them, before face emerges with him and babbling, making sure to describe how his appearance might seem…a clue from the narrator to reader to help begin realizing this dramatic character, about his delicate condition (old way of saying prone to tipple, also old).
The cause for his condition can seem comical or poetic with his romance with those roughly hewn blurts of words. The paragraph where they’re in the hot tub, the end word is “ear” and maybe “dear’; no, not it.
The hot tub scene is prior to opening scene? So, if after the hot tub you mean to go back to opening dialogue, it’s not stated…or the ending as you have it is still in the past. Might want to resolve. That’s Chechov’s gun you’ might be handling and it would take making that hot tub a Time Machine so Frankee can go off. Perhaps,if thehot tub should be first scene, it could make clear the opening scene (unless you want to go: present, past, preset, past, to present with narrator reflection). Where does the start off it all. Or,Keep it linear.
There are some raw and good, maybe fresh, comments on singles dating turning into serious relationships. I like that Frankee has it under control, despite his drinking which is the hidden reason for the break-up. But, drinking too much still suggests a core flaw in your character unexposed. To get his acknowledgment it was his drinking could be hinted at by the narrator. Just a few ideas to help the assemblage of your evidence.
The ending, to bring in a horde with Gina seemed to cue narrator to Frankee having it together. I’d still be concerned, but a friend would be onboard with helping have a good time. He needs enough time, however, to get past it. Hopefully, this isn’t the beginning of alcoholism for FrankeeZee (space missing?).
In a longer story, the trials for FZ could tell a tale of misunderstandings, a delicate condition, a friend who learns from his buddy’s tragedies…there’d be more. It could help readers fully focus on modern dating and how posturing between a torn couple ended in break up. You could then introduce her. But, first it’s Gina. I’m now giving myself a Great Gatsby vibe.
I enjoyed considering your short story with its potential. Thanks for sharing.
Brian
WDC disability Writer’s Group
I see you’re brand new here. Welcome! I noticed after writing review your username is FrankZee. Interesting twist. Now, I can imagine this like Inception, though not as convoluted.
The lyrics to this song, seemingly poignant from the start have a person who would sing these words as if in a malaise, who is down, and while troubled has reached for a pen and written lyrics projected toward others about their inward feelings. Words as lyrics commonly told in song about Love that has failed. And as usual, it is the song about the one that got away. And I wonder, is this primarily what lands writers on the Internet to share their words?
What is it that a person is hoping to find by presenting lyrics to a song? The intent of the words seem to reach for a grandiose response to have them published and recorded? Is it part of the remaining dream or hope that some part of life will lift up one who writes down their feelings, feeling if they were heard they will have been affirmed by not only a writing community, but find themselves on a path to success? Because their inner feelings are something that the rest of society is yearning to hear? I have done it, many items and time I’ve shared here seek the same way.
I think what you write is what drives the machine. That is the type of thing like dreams, that husked, put into a process, comes out on the other side as food for life. This is not uncommon. It is what I know. Surviving is the next thought that arrives. When a poem is produced as lyrics, whether as a diary, or journal entry here, it opens about a memory. Can these lyrics move further for the writer, or, just sit here for the next however many years? I look around and find many abandoned.
So, when you’ve been here as long as someone like me, encouraged to review from a list, writers like yourself who recently had an anniversary, find something to review and celebrate that account. And so I do and I usually move to the next as a bumble bee, mostly bumbling…and go onto someone who is active. Attempts to review people who have been inactive have drawn some out, back in. And because the person who has been here as long and reviews as much as I do, likes to take those long shots to see if a person who has been idle can become active again.
It’s only been a year for you. I tried to stay within the decade, but have known to go all the way back to when my account started. With little success. I think some people might be annoyed by my random process, as I do. What I try to find is something that I find interesting, worthy of comment, regardless of how long it’s been. I’ve gone from looking at anything, to trying to find active or upgraded accounts. Otherwise, slim pickings. I seldom look to see when they were last online.
Doing anniversary reviews is a different dog. I do find people like yourself thought active, like the interactives…accounts for people who only are here for the interactive items. And sadly one day, all inactive or interactives that I don’t go near. But, this was worth it.
Sincerely,
Brian
disAbility Writers Group Reviewer
If you need help navigating, I can point you to any resource that might assist you further in your travels in this community.
I never sought reviewing groups for credit. I WAS APPROACHED, encouraged, worked at the reviewing craft. I knew coercion could find a way to alter or negate my voice altogether. I gave, am right. I carefully choose…individualism.
When I see a new writer at Writing.Com, I have to ask what brings them here to share their writing? What do you hope to get from your experience, foremost? But first, feedback. A response to “Time and Mind”, that I might intrude to offer comment…
Something here I can help illuminate further, as I see from what you’ve learned, what you are going for in this poem. Time elements are tricky and confusing, and sometimes leave me a bit twisted up. But the word flow is a great function and the notion of time idling…it reminds of the saying a watched pot does not boil. We slow down time in anticipation, rather by distracting ourselves, and caught up in some deviation of the mind and its awareness that doesn’t allow acknowledgment of time passage. So, this is about mindfulness. Memory is also a key factor, as we recall things. We are placing memories in time, sometimes unintentionally around other events that occurred.
Without knowing your level of understanding of writing, the skill is in the text you offer, the only measure I have to determine where it is you take your craft, and if I have any experience to offer moving forward. Let’s start with just a few thoughts…you exhibit a rhythm and sequence thoughts that ask unanswered questions to get a reader on the same journey. “The now” inspires it, knows time isn’t physical but neural. You showed that connection.
The structure of a poem can be important, but I always allow for poetic license, meaning that sometimes the message is more important than the structure. Your poem has the rigid, four-line verses that function well. A poem can be inhibited if the structure was too far off base.
Word choice is important. Some poems use a word that seemed beyond the scope of the writer and not quite the right word to nuance message, if not in actual definition. Sometimes the right word in the right place is a zinger, really powerful. You manage well to introduce your thoughts, though I’d check one misspell (first verse) and an awkward sentence later that might have a word in the way or doesn’t know where to stand in the assemblage. We did get the big word and you introduced it aptly.
Imagery. Some poems capture an image so effectively – readers can see the image. Some poems miss in that the image or message is lost in vague and ambiguous wording and imagery. Some writers seem to try too hard to for flowery language or the emotions and the message is either trite or unclear. Clarity is essential. You were straightforward, getting into your inner space where you can imagine outer space and the concepts that bring about the message.
Emotion. Poetry, in any form, has to capture an emotion and transfer that feeling to the reader. Some poetic emotion is in the category of sadness – loss, loneliness, abandonment, insult, being ostracized. Happiness – love, acceptance, success, accomplishment. The thing about this, more so than other forms of poetry, is that the form can capture a wide range of emotions. This is pure wonderment, joy and sharing through discovery. It serves as introduction to story.
How would you rate your own writing skill? Are there writers that have inspired you already? Hopefully, we'll learn more through our individual processes, as you grow as a writer here or wherever time takes you. Hopefully, you’ll join some writing groups to find some fun prompts, motivation and like-minded writers in your endeavors.
It was a pleasure to read and give an overview of the joy you share in your poem.
Dear Mr. Meyer, (too formal? I feel like a school teacher )
Your hook to this story has so many great elements with suspense building. But at the end of the second paragraph it hit me. This needs to go in reverse order so the reader can be witness like the hit man, taking it in as if catching up what’s happening before realizing we are aside a villain. The slow build to assassin can help ramp up investment in story. An example (not changing your words (much) but reordering with notes).
The little old man was just enjoying an afternoon of shopping. (We are visualizing character and scene establishing before suspense building. “just” grabs our attention.)
Bruno stood outside the bakery. (Second establishment, early foreboding)
(H)is mark was hopping from (hopped)…(Hop, hmm. how does he move like a bunny, if old? I’m gathering he’s pleasant, in his element?) …store to store buying groceries and vegetables.
(Suggestion: describe him as stalker in two words here) had taken precautions to avoid notice, chang(ing)(or, should it be ‘hiding’) his appearance with hats and glasses. (clear or shades?)
Bruno was confident he hadn't been made. Could wind up as two paragraphs still, or one long one.
Phew! Mixed myself up a bit with Writing ML. Hard to show edit notes like this. Can’t see as I go. Hope it makes sense. Nice work. The site could use a picker/pull down menu, gah. Discouraging, me writing code. Don’t know how early programmers did it, or now.
This review in part is due to Jeff, by paying his kindness forward.
I liked this for a crafty, quick language that matches the symbol in your story. I did not know it was the wind. Does wind make sound or is it heard from its persistence around the landscape. I didn’t catch invisible either. But it made for good suspense. I’ve perused many of your poems, but this grabs me best.
I like the title line as the writer’s own prompt to produce a poem about being idled and doodling words into poem. It even counts the ways it fills the page, it’s whimsical and gives us a feel for narrator and what challenges.
As a reviewer, I can be compulsive. The act of writing a helpful review is my aim. Clouds might get pushed away in the effort of sharing these thoughts…typos likely, alerts ahead!
I tried, but wheels keep coming off, and 18 hours a day in a recliner. Any cake left?
You might know this poem would be my wheel-house. Something I can witness for a cold life is having math as a warm friend. Numbers I understand, people not so much. In fact, I’ve done a lot of unauthorized measuring around here to get a better grip on this virtual reality. Still clueless…mostly. Not much math works out, and blind faith doesn’t come naturally. If guarded I be, so be it.
What a journey this poem is to consider all it packs. I like its brevity, feel it computes math through science to nature — as math explains all that is knowable — and arrives at what should be easy with a sort of romanticism for friendship and simple sentimentality. I feel the emphasis, ultimately, as conclusion, resides in here. So, a measured poem be math for life. Solve for this?
Breaking apart “[to mathematics] E2” (great, eye-catching title) to examine three components being witnessed here — title, lineal, and an escalation — each played a role in shaping the final revelation for me.
Title: That bracketed invocation of sorts “[to mathematics]” primes a reader for a kind of devotional or letter — as if we witness your private correspondence, or open letter to the world. “E2” could suggest an equation, an exponential form, a codename, or even just the poet’s own numeric filing (I’ve noted with others) — as it’s open to me in interpretation, but left wondering about physics, where my heads been at in all things relative. Its framing might invite a mathematical lens: expecting formulas, or deviations from them.
Linear: The poem tightly moves in clean, unrhymed, minimalistic lines — and not just brevity but deliberate pacing. The early lines, kind of rigidity: “straight lines / and straight perceptions.” They set the expectation of logic and order. But that expectation is quick disrupted — “yield / to fractals” — and a shift into witnessed imagery no longer geometric, but environmental. So much happening in small spaces, likened to my themes of atom building and spaces I roam between (invisibly as ghost/captor of life). That enjambment echoes your poem content: the structure itself speaks to something softer, more irregular, but more alive.
Escalation: The poem moves from abstract (math, perception) to natural imagery (shores, islands, icebergs) to the human equation: “you and I / and us.” I’m feeling this shift so well. This progression is beautiful. It begins- with a concept, walking through the world, and arriving in relationship. The science for friendship or love? The shift is not even sentimental just for sentiment’s sake — it has logic, emotion, and is universal to me. The self…not a number alone. Yet, I’m at the deli counter of life where all things impersonal arrive while I wait, as time and other noted numbers count, sort, rank, as aims and goals bleaker. Interconnected in many ways, your poem boils down in simple science here. I play with too many unfinished thoughts from complicated, bad, unruly math for life. (Prosciutto, three pounds, and a pound of your sliced provolone?) Big sandwich day.
For a poem so brief, it is remarkably expansive. In its three acts — idea, image, intimacy — charted how even a cold logic bends to the warmth of connection. Dichotomous? Yin Yang? And, that the poem ends in “us” feels not just poetic but vital, especially in times when the only constants in life seem to be isolation and confusion. In this way, the poem does what good math — and good poetry — strives for: to make sense of chaos, even when only approximate.
A thoughtfully distilled poem. One that adds up for me. Viva le poetry! Le or La? French/Spanish?? Lost in idle thought, again. A would-be anniversary reviewer, disabled well enough to silent hang with…these guys…disAbility Writer’s Group (but not a poster senior, yet)
⸻
There comes
a softening
to mathematics
when straight lines
and straight perceptions yield (slope?)
to fractals
of rocky shores
of sandy islands
and melting icebergs
to equations
of you and I
and us.
————————————
Any shape intention? I can sense land masses to water where bergs melt ~
I like the story concept and happily ever after, feeling some writer self-indulgence which was good. I think we all want to close our eyes and imagine.
For a short story, i found I could adapt to the premise through this first parrot narrative, recanting a story. Where I found it turn sideways was the instant fame, and further, being pursued by men who wanted to take her wing and walk the wedding aisle? Wasn’t sure about that. If it’s a 24-hour prompt, I get it. Story still functions.
I like the remaining suitor and what was essentially true about falling for someone, knowing they care. Then, his mother’s death, a fortune to be had if to marry. I get his type wouldn’t pressure. So, siideways a bit there with his logic to part ways. Or, the logic — you can’t have a foul interspecies marriage. His intent wasn’t to coo this bird so they’d build their love nest?
Yet, the curse is lifted by “true love” that could use a bit more ceremony of the nature of this romance, so they could fly off together. I enjoyed the description of the transformation. More of that could really put a reader there, get inside the character’s feathers. I presume she molted.
Do you imagine your reading audience when you write? You have a natural default that appeals from adolescent to young adult. I don’t know the literary standards, but “pissed” was hard. It does help define your character by choice of words. The doing the opposite thing is classic.
Overall, still imaginative and entertaining, yet raw. There’s better ways to start the story, like all the men courted a beauty before turned to bird, and your guy hung around post curse for friend/soulmate and not the pretty face. Easy reason for this punishment, getting full of self and was going to settle for some loser instead of Mr. Right. You reviewed Sonali with “The Missing Coins” and her character punished a smug son. Just a few thoughts.
Good work. I enjoy your fiction, as you have some great ways of presenting language to depict unique situations.
Sincerely,
Brian
I Write In 2025
and disAbility Writer's Group Reviewer
This story is interesting, straightforward and gave me some things to consider about magic.
First off, characters are solid, the hook got me right into story, and the progression of story is easy to follow, with just one typo of note, “waked’ instead of “walked to the front door.”
There are moments I’m to consider how this omniscient voice sees from Martin’s perspective like a sibling maybe, like reading his mind when presumed “Mom must’ve texted Dad…” But, then narrator observes the story like we do to learn what went wrong with the trick.
As reader, observer, I was curious about the trick that failed, given his confidence and described ability. I don’t have a hollow cane to experiment with, but I might note for myself should it be a weight difference in an oft handled object that is hollow or filled once lifted. I googled the cane, going off American currency, while i could assume a Rial, unfamiliar with size and weight or the number and actual coins in trick; but, it would have to be enough to give this appearance of many so an audience might note witness.
The cane I googled how much it could dispense with however many coins. I chose a quarter with 5.67 grams weight. When totaled 80 grams, its two ounces. The cane is likely heavier because of mechanism, but three pounds tops? So, given all that with his ability, it might give a reader like me pause. If even a note that she knows the missing coins wouldn’t be sensed by removal, it might sell this better? Anyway, I did the math. Whatever unit of weight.
As a reader, I admit I missed tone in his voice, but did note the mother’s comment about “teenagers” after telling him “don’t get overconfident.” I’d invoke a Harrison Ford, “don’t get cocky kid,” myself. I didn’t see behavior on his part that makes the reveal of her ruse a valid reason for upsetting her son but sabotaging his act. I have to put it in those terms, as I’m a poor disciplinarian and have coddled one child after a spelling bee gaffe. But, he was younger.
Overall, the story functions. The ending could use a little more. Maybe, showing the son’s remorse over having acted cocky (lesson learned), over what seemed like over-confident? He does demonstrate clingy-ness…which I presume is not a desired response. It could help cinch it for a reader if more is written into justifiable demeanor?
For me, the key is to leave no doubt about the justification. Dad’s reaction seemed just on first response. Her deliberate preparedness and intake of his food seemed a bit gratuitous as smug. It can be a cultural misinterpretation on my part. But, he didn’t seem to disagree. Though, the “oh, now he’s my kid” moment doesn’t fit the tenor. It’s like a ‘don’t blame this just on me’ moment or that a child might take after a parent (unless demonstrated, but he made her food).
So, just some notes on things I saw. I like the mystery, left with anticipation in a moment of error that plays out. It could be cringe-worthy for some readers, especially if noting mom’s role. It takes its time getting to the reveal…maybe, if shorter could add justification cues. Otherwise, I question the mother’s intent, as she is punishing him for the way she behaves at the end, deciding his fate without a more direct intervention (for unnoted repeated behavior). I’d need more from her son to see unruly. But, suspect a stricter culture. Her voice intones voices I’ve heard in tv fiction that feel assured of their parental rights.
Considering the title, it could be, “THE Magic Trick.” That way this reveals more covertly in its mystery of THE true trick that played.
Sincerely,
Brian
I Write In 2025
and disAbility Writer’s Group Reviewer
Your intriguing poem may or may not be well-meaning, but I’m handling it in this review with regard to the Christian faith. Review watchers and believers may take note my attempt to raise up and send support to Christianity (suddenly wondering where are our temples here?) Let’s study your words. I went into this as doubting Brian…
I’m curious about this poem and a form that intrigues with possibilities. The use of “contrapuntal poetry” (odd name) feels like puzzling child-taught core religious notes without substantial takeaway for a reader. Seldom does the community offer much or fails to illuminate readers and reviewers like me. There’ hope.
With this form (with a writer’s eye), I might have applied sensory-filled acts (on a cross bleeding, princely thorns mocking, betrayed with a kiss, forsaken martyr — our savior). Jesus presents strong images. I don’t know how the holy trinity functions (learn here), but the poem lacks the stuff to add up its makeup via intermingled poems. Is it three woven poems, or moreover, three woven characters, elements meaning to feed off the other. It fills a form, but little enlightens with message. I’ll get into this hybrid religion in an antiquated psychologist’s bubble further along. And now, I’m feeling the burn of irony.
Usually poem forms like this are a poet’s first encounter with an activity prompt in community. Not knowing rules of form, I question its brevity when tackling religion (and psychology). Do we not desire poems of reverence with a modern plea to get back our old-time gospel and parishioners, joyfully sing the praises. Or, is this idle tom-foolery (profanity was considered — rules — vagaries)?
How to consume a poem loosely playing with subject (albeit, nod to experimental) to demonstrate as faith intends, with a Freudian eye up in it. I can’t preach, but further is my ignorance. That prompts me to research. And a wonderment: are intelligent religious poems offered anywhere that get an Amen? written for a society failing its faith, worn down with dull apathy, provoked into complacency, by outsiders bent on taking our daily bread?
And considering a poet-offered introduction to further play on title, Freudian psychology seems parody or lack of God-valued reverence. (Did the famous psychologist make this conclusion, or be assumed?) I see this review as an opportunity to reveal ideological flaws amid an earnest theological/psychological fusion that still may offend the remaining devout. And, maybe that’s to be part of the poem appeal.
I’m happy to be shown my wrong-headed notions, as well. The poem title should entice, as the title line, “Contrapuntal poetry from my idea that the Trinity are God's ego, superego, and id...”
There’s a genuine ache beneath my words — as I desire spiritual poems to mean something again, feel live, with reverence, and attuned with a modern malaise in society. The Id of God offers a surface-level novelty, lacks depth in either theology or the emotive.
Let’s unpack with a critical eye, yet open heart, honoring my devout mother’s example, while giving you the dignity of my best consideration.
This form is rich in possibilities: voices, time, or states of being intermingling and elevating meaning with texture. Here, the Holy Trinity akin to Freud’s psychic structure: ego, superego, and id are interwoven. Rather than insight or new reverence gained, this felt more like a play of parts — theological cosplay came to mind, over hopeful spiritual encounter.
The poem uses three characterizations:
• The Father is just
• The Son is kind
• The Spirit is Holy
Immediate reduction is evident. This makes centuries of doctrine and lived experience into moral flashcards. What could have been — the Godhead imagined through psychology — reads as generalities.
Each trio of lines after patterns about the same, just as simplistic:
• Always strong / Sometimes healing / Always present
• Sometimes destructive / Always loving / Always working
How to align these traits with id/ego/superego? with the Trinity? It’s unclear for me. I get stuck at the Spirit is “Holy” and ‘Sometimes destructive’? This might imply the Spirit represents the id as unruly or chaotic. Or, the Father (ego?) is “Always working” but governs through divinity? I don’t see theological or psychological comparison to help a reader make connections. It’s more of guessing game.
The final three lines for me attempt a moral takeaway:
• Makes us think of him / Makes us desire him / Makes us act like him.
Makes us desire him especially jars. What sort of desire? Spiritual hunger? Carnal longing? Obedience? Worship? This offers little to go on. I suggest ‘desire’ in Freudian terms leans hard into that meaning. Without further development, this feels more awkward than profound...if even the aim than some light word play.
Your note (light, casual) reveals the poem as more of an exercise or play. That’s fine to workshop. I seek gravity or humility, or something that acknowledges God when invoking. Comparing the Trinity with Freudian terms isn’t so offensive — but does demand care. I can’t fully see this as thouht through or in earnest.
If you’re going for satire, it needs insight with bite. If sincere, needs more development. Maybe, for theoretical, clarity can do it well. Too glib to be reverent and too vague to be subversive.
Summarizing with my thoughts:
• What human POV in this poem? Where is Christ’s bleeding side? or mother at the tomb, a sad world waiting for God?
• The Id of God as title might have set the wheels in motion for this, but not showing or fully realized.
• What would it mean if God did have a superego!? It’s fun to consider. or if the Spirit was the id? Would that make a reader uncomfortable, or show something we’ve ignored? Go with that.
This poem feels more of a rough draft of an idea. And for divinity, ideas alone aren’t really enough when setting out to write. You’re not wrong for experimenting. But what remains missing is communion — with spirit, with reader, and with language that risks the trembling of belief.
It was a pleasure considering this conceptual piece during a time when Christianity feels a bit on the skids. I was hoping for more, with some revelation. Maybe, I did/have. At least, prompted to consider with having ideas of that form and many things I could write.
Sincerely,
Brian
disAbility Writer’s Group
and “I Write in 2025” reviewer
I’m reading your triple haiku, Haiku For Contemplation, for I Write in 2025. I’m intrigued by and enjoy not only writing but consuming haikus, especially to lend thoughts with feedback. Grouping three haikus in one poem is something I’ve become familiar with recently years and enjoy these expansions of thought through anything like ordered progression. After reading, "Haiku for Contemplation" , I initially formed questions to ask myself:
What is the goal of each haiku here, specifically what takeaways? What is the goal of a triple haiku and what is achieved here?
Described as “3 Haiku for Contemplation” what personal bias can a reader use to contemplate on and envision?
Do transitions operate smoothly and keep the haiku form function and with flow?
Where are summary thoughts contained, and is the final summary reflecting back on all?
What is contemplated amid imagery, motifs or themes with any connecting sensory to reveal scenes? Is narrative in the way or complimentary?
This triple haiku fills form requirements, but lacked focus for me. I noted some awkward and passive language to check out. Where I feel strongest is conclusion of 2nd haiku, maybe better as open to that haiku? Read “weather” used four times, while lacking some details. Anything like squalls, thunder, light rain or other elements in scene to connect nature details to “wisdom” theme. Poem would benefit from sensory impulses to inform/tease a reader to plug in. I have so much to say on this. I think anything from me will seem dissertation.
As a professional journalist, I know poetry is akin to radio news copy I had written with brevity and imagery to illuminate listeners’ minds. Haikus serve a similar purpose. Since haikus traditionally capture fleeting moments in nature to get inward reflection, they work quite well on their own with minimalism and the smallest of evidence to give imagery and sensory details life of their own before a reader’s watchful eye. It lends to each person’s collective imagination. Your poem I’ve noted with a weather motif, both literal and metaphorical. I do see opportunities to get more out of this fresh write.
Each haiku seems to convey a knowing wisdom with natural observation. The first haiku introduces weather in transition, using breezes and clouds to foretell storms. The second haiku tries to link these observations to wisdom through the cycles of nature. The third summarizes this as learning used as a method before it quickly cuts to ‘a peaceful daily life’. I did struggle a bit to full grasp what you offer this reader, made my own assumptions to fill. Through questions derived, I have takeaways for you.
This is a “triptych structure’ and what I learned is it might intend to simulate movement from observation to learning to this applied wisdom. But, the transitions are slightly abrupt. Haikus, even when tripled, usually thrive on some tension between image and what that implies, or for this reader to infer. It feels what you have here tells a reader rather than allow those depictions offered to wash over a witness to feel or discover through poetic suggestion. Maybe, the missing link is elements that closely depict sensory details.
Suggestions I came up with:
First Haiku —
My wife and I discussed “Marshmallow clouds” just as a visual representation. It took third to cotton and popcorn. Yours is a soft, childlike image, which contrasted with “tomorrow’s storms,” a metaphor that didn’t deepen our understanding. Could the clouds be given more tension, like swollen, looming, visual suggestion for what’s impending? The other thought here is about “gusty breezes” which functions but seen as too generic. A verb or detail that gives more could sharpen it. I both see and hear “snapping flags” or “ruffling maple leaves” that both bring about memory, possibly nostalgia.
Second Haiku —
“Watching weather swell” stuck out for me as an example of passive writing. I do it all the time, likely in this review. I like to catch these in editing, preferring to cull my feelings into words, be in that moment as much as possible. A haiku like yours can have true immediacy with weather development. You might consider making this central link more sensory or visceral (gut feeling). I can recall times I had to quick pack it in, low clouds, winds blowing stuff around is my general feeling about storm approach. And those first droplets, quick downpours, and more. I don’t have to tell you. Sometimes, when I write this, my mind harnesses memories that access experience mostly.
As clouds swelling, what it might look like then feelings that emerges. I did enjoy the last line of this haiku, “Knowledge grows wisdom.” That’s is a truism that does tells rather than evoke, but I like it as your overall takeaway after a storm progression. The peaceful part actually strategizes the epiphany here. But, is wisdom being shown through anything sensory and metaphoric, or through an image of someone acting wisely in response to change? Even a narrative voice can show progression here…a very nuanced one. Might be a tall task, if in that quest.
Third Haiku —
The phrase “Earth weather routine” was too abstract for my tastes, further does not ground in imagery but generalizes. found in classic haiku. “Quick weather response” is also not describing yet. The final line, “Peaceful daily life,” also would be more compelling if more had been shown to get here. Like I said about “Knowledge grows wisdom” as summary, you might have your best line coupling that could finish (“With a…) peaceful daily life/knowledge grows wisdom.”
On Contemplation, my Takeaway:
My core question was “What do readers contemplate after reading?” There’s potential with your poem to explore details of nature unfolding and what reveals that makes us wise to live more harmoniously. With the takeaway could come stronger images with sensory words that vividly described, immerse a reader to separate from page and apply one’s own bias. I think of moisture carried by wind on skin, how alert or quiet the denizen around us, smell of rain, etc. Imagery can provide layered meaning. General summations might seem cliche, dry or idiomatic.
Speaking of Narrative Flow —
Another approach that might abandon some previous notes here. I see a sort of progression happening from early observation to arrive at understanding before takeaway. Yet, these haikus don’t quite arc or reflect back on all. Maybe, the final haiku could circle back to an initial, offered image, before ‘voila’, changed by experience? I think how some deem a bear sighting as a transcendent experience for knowledge or a rite of passage. Maybe, some descriptive element in scene can be that signal of wisdom passed on?
This triple haiku honors form’s tradition, and your noted journalism background gives you a trained eye for observed cycles and patterns to report. I’d encourage taking more risk, even if figurative with less explaining. I’d suggest giving images sensory thoughts and feelings that speak, and trust the reader to relate, decode, come away with beautifully unique reveries of their own. You’re basically giving a very special weather report from heart and soul to responding hearts and souls of readers.
If you should rewrite, I would enjoy seeing and relating this offering.
Sincerely,
Brian
disAbility Writer’s Group
and I Write In 2025 Reviewer
Ran out of time to finish editing for clarity. Sorry.
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My words for your are assessment as simple as a child’s. I put my faith in love and a higher power that has the right to judge. I feel you get me or just accept. It’s easy to reciprocate our images of one another. But, we’ve lived. We’ve earned. Now, we share. I’m always amendable to an honest moment like that which you’ve shared.
, according to Mr. Manilow.
My review has been submitted for consideration in "
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