Comments & Compliments

Faulted her, for wandering the streets alone?

(Even in broad daylight!)

Above everything else in your story THIS says so much. I only point that out because everything else says a lot. Well done.

I really enjoyed this piece, well written, thought provoking, and deep layered. It surprises (and horrifies) me that even today people often wonder what the victim did to “deserve it.”

What a horrible event and such a callous view from tourists. So many people see it from such a small point of view.

“Mostly Mexicans,” and

“Afterwards, a dozen ships’ hulls shaded the whispering beach.

As if haphazardly parked, by some drunken valet.”

really pack an extra punch. Very powerful!

What a lovely story Andrea. So visually appealing and emotionally poignant.

Intriguing start then the story unfolds really well. I want her to be safe for obvious reasons but also because I can imagine the homecoming and I hope you write it!

Wow, I love this piece. It seriously gave me goosebumps. Read it three times! The simplicity of the language belies the power in each line. I could see and hear and feel it all.

 I’ve had the exact same thought as you with all of the furor over children “falling behind” if they’re not in school being a false premise. In many instances, children learn in spite of school, not because of it.

 Wonderful language to paint a picture of a disturbed mind. Well told. Disturbing.

 Beautifully written and left a real shudder – which I think was your intention!

 Very well-written story, Andrea. I love this line: “To watch humanity steam and froth, warmed by the neon’s indulgent glow.”

Yikes – nice job with this respectful Veteran’s piece. Made me sad – and grateful for what our servicemen have done and still do.

Andrea, I love this poem. It scratches for attention despite the poet in me trying to look away from its truths.

The rose photo is superb

I haven’t seen a pair of pinking shears (as we call them) in years. Good story, enjoyed it.

Not sure I understand the numerology bit but I too envisaged a male, overly obsessed and paranoid monkish figure who took to numbers because of his failure to interact with others. Funny how a few words portray a character

“Definitely not fruit punch!”

Nice!

“King of the Masquerade” is a great line! This poem makes me think of the song “Hotel California.”

We humans are pretty good at sword fighting and not so good at dealing with invisible threats. Great poem!

That last line is achingly beautiful, Andrea. It’s sad to envisage her plight, but hey who are we to comment?

I loved your photo of “Butterfly pea plant blooming blue…”

I very much like the fact that non-human nature has gotten a little break during our COVID-related slow-downs — although I am also aware that millions of families cannot pay their rent/mortgage/food bills.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. 

So glad I signed up for your newsletter, Andrea! Victoria and Siren Song were my favorites this week.

You’re spot-on with this one!

Your poem conveys the inertia of the housebound very effectively.

Yes, that unbelievable inertia, now that we finally have time to get things off the list we created when we were “too busy”. But, unlike me, you wrote a poem at least.

Awesome poem as usual my friend. Emily Dickinson being my favorite poet!

Thanks for sharing your thoughts on the talks and WordCamps that you attended! I’m already missing how comparably easy it was to talk in person around shared interests like this.

Love it! Longing doesn’t express the grief I’ve witnessed in some for true companionship again.

So sorry to read about the loss of your niece, Andrea. There’s much truth in the line, “This shallow patch, twixt birth and death.”

I love the Christmas poem! 🙂

I like this one Andrea. Two images are interesting that you included a 911 everyday and the fact that we don’t have flags at half-mast even though we are losing so many great Americans…

We do seem to be living in times Orwellian.

wonderful poem, Andrea

could really feel the different emotions in each stanza and also on a very realistic note, the mind that prepares like this for empty nesting most likely will adjust to the actual empty nest with a lot more preparation.

I know everyone experiences the empty nest in different ways – but some do better and perhaps it is because they do prepare or know that it will come whereas others are caught off guard or have other things that surface, which then causes issues.

This poem really resonated with me.

I agree with Liz. This is deeply felt and expresses beautifully the horror of our times.

The way you put these numbers into a poem is unexpectedly powerful—emotionally.

Thanks for making me think of EISWEIN!

I’m very fond of the cicadas’ singing. When I was a kid, I referred to them as “heat bugs” because I only heard them when the weather was really hot.

These first two installments are wonderful, Andrea. What a treat to look forward to the next ones! And your beautiful tribute-to-motherhood poem fits right in. VIELEN DANK!

Keep ‘em coming, Andrea! Already looking forward to next week.

Yikes! Just as creepy the second time around.

Excellent. I could feel the Irish accent as this was so clever

Although my days of “being in the trenches” of motherhood are long over, we mothers never cease worrying about and doing for our children, do we? Thank you for sharing this lovely poem. And yes, in my head it was read with an Irish accent!

Thank you for this wonderful holiday gift: your special newsletter. That‘s a treasure to be read many times. On this morning‘s first reading, my favorites are the ones with most connections to my past (and yours): Chopin‘s Tristesse on the Fire Escape (with your mother’s “mon dieu” in my ears), Eiswein—the memory of my first sip of that miraculous creation, and then one of my favorite flowers, Camellia—beautiful even in death. And finally, that delightful Snow story with the orangeball fight! Made me miss both Minnesota and Florida here in our green Missouri December. Happy Holidays, dear Andrea!

How whisky can create perspective for things we dislike. Nicely done

Your lovely poem is a beautiful tribute to your parent’s love for each other. Very nicely done! I’m sure they are together, enjoying year 61.

I do like this reflection on homeschooling an autistic child, it so chimes in with our own philosophy and experience. 

I thought it was cool the way you added the art deco theme. That added a whole new dimension to the poem!

Boom! Direct hit!!!

I really enjoyed your two characters. So different, yet drawn to the same field. And who knows? Maybe, somewhere, a Pascal will arise to cap the pump 🙂

Ah, the student beats the master! Great Story!

A foretelling, farsighted well- constructed piece of poetry. A good rhythmic feel.

Brilliant – even better read out loud!

For some reason, I’m seeing this poem in the Childcraft book of poems for children, illustrated with a big, fat orange-faced bully in various postures of temper-tantruming.

I love this. So sweet and passionate and illicit. And that description of frozen snow – just perfect. Well done indeed, Andrea

setting sun weaves threads through the turquoise sky…nice line. Lovely story

I don’t think she needs to choke back the smile. We will see the rainbow again, and we’ll smile.

This was a joy to read. I loved the lines, Dune sunflowers smiled on either side and Waves occasionally lapping her toes, like a friendly puppy. Makes you want to get away and be somewhere peaceful too.

This is one of the best statements/laments on climate change I’ve read. Stunning.

I loved the water giggling through gentrified neighborhoods. Beautifully written and evocative piece.

I loved the name Filcher’s Row. The appearance by the heretofor “silent” partner made this a great cliff hanger.

I absolutely love these two lines: ‘white candles on a layer cake’ and ‘the last man to ever upstage her.’ I am SO CURIOUS – how does he upstage her?! Why?! Does he mean to?! Please continue this story!

I would LOVE to know what happens next so when you do, please send it my way!

Ouch, what a punch in that final line. You set us up with nostalgic memories and then reveal the darkness beneath them. Nicely done

Oh goodness this so scary. Hope your husband heals as quickly as possible and that the rest of your family remains healthy.

Very tenderly told. You sound like a very loving and devoted mother, and your children are blessed to have you.

He sounds creepy to me – don’t go with him Magda !

A homely romantic tale. Good to know that romance is not dead.

I really look forward to getting your newsletter.

Two very dark poems this week, Andrea. We need those so that we don’t get too exuberant about our good fortune here while most of the world is still suffering. Thank you.

Oddly enough, the older I get, writing my life has become living my life.

I like this very much! It has a traditional folktale feel to it.

Great job, Andrea! I suspect the rioters were actually surprised by their own success. One thing that has become clear during the trial is just how close they came to capturing members of Congress.

that was wonderful – and the truth and sadness of this situation was only ameliorated by your gift for prose

and praying for the many who really in the depth of suffering right now

and hoping the world

“Would right itself again”

Outstanding poem! Vivid and succinct. I think our country has always been a messier place than we’d like to admit.

Oh, no, Andrea! I am so sorry to hear that one of your loved ones is fighting a serious illness.

Yeah, we’re pretty much in the land of Jabberwocky.

You’re spot-on with this one!

Your poem reminds me of two camps in the Vermont woods, my dad’s and my aunt’s, where nightime was without human noise and there was no ambiant light, just moon and stars.

It does make me wonder why plastic packaging is so excessive, much more than is needed.

Um, did one of my writing process students write this? 😉

I hear the thundering hoofbeats of four horses . . .

What part of epidemiology don’t these idiots understand? Don’t get me started . . .

No melodrama here, dear Andrea. Just a moving, beautifully crafted poem.

This brought tears, dear Andrea, and many memories of you, your sister, your parents, the shingled house, Lake Superior. Thank you.

As much as I like your poetry, Andrea, I would like to see more stories like this one. A great read, and thought-provoking. And even though I‘m 81, I have to confess that I am thrilled every day about how this phone keeps me connected to the whole world and provides me with a brain much better than my own: Google.

Hate to know that this is the last installment—great ending. Wish that this would be the beginning of your novel.

I will hang this poem on my door opposite my bed so that I can read it at sunrise to cheer me up for the day.

This is an excellent poem. It reminds me so much of the camp my father built in the woods of the Northeast Kingdom, which, sadly, is no more. Only memories remain.