************

Friday, July 23, 2010

Blind Review


The author shall remain anonymous (unless they chose to divulge themselves in the comments.)

Those commenting are also welcome to remain anonymous if they wish.

Incendiary comments will be removed.

If you would like your piece thrown to the wolves send it to salinger@ameritech.net with "Workshop the hell out of this poem" as the subject line.

This week's offering is from a Clevelandpoetics the Blog contributor.



Finding Shelter

Wild gusts shook the house last night, crashing
at the windows as though the bungalow were floundering
on a turbulent sea, and I dreamed I was protecting my father
making the violent wind abate, giving him a place of calm.
I did not greet him in my dream; I could not see his face,
or feel his wiry hand on mine. I did not hear his voice or
the touch of his laughter, yet he was there, the uneven rhythm
of his breathing, his realization of this life, his constant presence
that is always there, whether he is or not, and I awoke
feeling differently but knowing I had always felt the same.
Moving into the day, the solid ground beneath my feet,
with each step an echo of gratitude.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Read this lightly but then reread it twice. Not sure I'd call it Finding Shelter. I like how you're calming your father and he ends up calming you. The acceptance is good. Change the title though.

Shelley Chernin said...

I, too, have enjoyed reading this poem a couple of times. I like the essence of it, the core of the dream.

I'd like to see more creative language and fewer cliches. "Wild gusts," "turbulent sea," "solid ground beneath my feet," are a few examples of the phrases that I wished were fresher and perhaps more dream-like.

Are you sure you meant "feeling differently" and not "feeling different"?

Cited...

The poet doesn't invent. He listens. ~Jean Cocteau