Mentor: Pomology

[Todd]

Keep shuffling. Not trying to get you off track. That shuffle though was better than most first drafts. I'll hold off commenting on this one at the moment. We'll come back to it. Don't stop if you have more shuffling to do.

Not trying to derail a process I'm trying to keep going.

[cidermaid]

Hi Todd,
Initially i thought that perhaps you had jumped the gun by going straight into the editing process but now actually I think not and i am glad you did.

I did go away and have another play with the line shuffling thing (quite extensivly !), but the end result was that i decided that am happier to go with the 1st draft than with any of the later productions. So the exercise was still a worthwhile thing to do because I have now tried some of the other options and decided that the initial approach was best anyway.

Below is the 2nd choice for a draft, not much to call between them (just an addition to the last stanza). Believe it or not I did completly dismantled the poem and tried a couple of radical changes neither of which I liked.
See below for a sample of some of the stanza changes that were rejected.

2nd draft (think I prefer without the additions but will be interested to hear your views)

The mother tree lives in the wild woods,
on the ridges of the Tian Shan mountains,
where Eternity is firmly planted
in each unique apple seed.
In the beginning
the sound of falling apples
was echoed in the thunder clouds
gathered over the pommice pits .

De-fleshed a core of potential
is tossed aside by tourists,
rough strewn between the rocks and roots,
amongst the leafy shadows that rustle underfoot.
Others have fallen on foreign shores;
they die of dehydration
in worm infested papaya sheets.

Golden streams trace the forest floor,
trampled by an army of willing arms
that wait on the descent to do the trade.
Once firm flesh is pierced and cut.
Crushed, the goodness oozes out;
piquant it drips from parted lips,
concentrated drops of guilt.
A wooden migration that illuminates
the trail from here to there.

“Here” is Alma-Atta.
where the mountains are snow covered,
and the final event is a mobius strip
of pale, blushing blooms tinged
with the scented ferment of declining wealth.
The air, crisp and clear, crunches with sound
pregnant with life as the harvest
beds itself in with frog popping fruit drops.

Into the foothills of civilization
Ambassadors are sent,
three eared hares
that offer the logged logos.
From the fecund heart,
thickets of outstretched limbs
radiate out in all directions.
Soon the mountains of Tian-Shan will shake
to the sound of green shoots
bursting though Eden’s gates.



Abandoned stanza options

Life branched out along
an ancient trade fair way,
the girth of the Eastern globe.
Significant to every step,
the apple tree
sends ambassadors
into the foothills of civilisation;
three eared hares,
that dance with outstretched limbs
logged logos from the Father’s arms.

Family branches of immigrants,
subtle shades of the perfect blue print
are planted on some distant shores.
Where embossed impressions,
left by three eared hares, with tales
of fruit wood migration,
illuminate the trail from here to there.

---

Feel more comfotable with what is down so far and ready to edit the crap out of it...or perhaps it needs to sit for a while?
Lead on, I think you are doing a fantastic job.

[Todd]

Hi Todd,
Initially i thought that perhaps you had jumped the gun by going straight into the editing process but now actually I think not and i am glad you did.

I did go away and have another play with the line shuffling thing (quite extensivly !), but the end result was that i decided that am happier to go with the 1st draft than with any of the later productions. So the exercise was still a worthwhile thing to do because I have now tried some of the other options and decided that the initial approach was best anyway.

Below is the 2nd choice for a draft, not much to call between them (just an addition to the last stanza). Believe it or not I did completly dismantled the poem and tried a couple of radical changes neither of which I liked.
See below for a sample of some of the stanza changes that were rejected.

2nd draft (think I prefer without the additions but will be interested to hear your views)

The mother tree lives in the wild woods,
on the ridges of the Tian Shan mountains,
where Eternity is firmly planted
in each unique apple seed.
In the beginning
the sound of falling apples
was echoed in the thunder clouds--You may not need the "was" here
gathered over the pommice pits .

De-fleshed a core of potential--This is an improvement. While I normally shy away from this ___ of _____ construction, this means exactly what it means in that it explains the possibility that each seed could sprout. So, it doesn't really bother me.
is tossed aside by tourists,
rough strewn between the rocks and roots,
amongst the leafy shadows that rustle underfoot.
Others have fallen on foreign shores;
they die of dehydration--Maybe it would be better to substitute they with only to
in worm infested papaya sheets.

Golden streams trace the forest floor,--While this is an improvement over the original, and while the color is technically accurate, it makes me think of urine. I would prefer a substitute.
trampled by an army of willing arms--There might be a better line you could come up with here. It works if you can't but give it some thought
that wait on the descent to do the trade.
Once firm flesh is pierced and cut.
Crushed, the goodness oozes out;
piquant it drips from parted lips,
concentrated drops of guilt.
A wooden migration that illuminates
the trail from here to there.

“Here” is Alma-Atta.
where the mountains are snow covered,
and the final event is a mobius strip
of pale, blushing blooms tinged
with the scented ferment of declining wealth.
The air, crisp and clear, crunches with sound--crunches with sound is really nice
pregnant with life as the harvest
beds itself in with frog popping fruit drops.

Into the foothills of civilization
Ambassadors are sent,
three eared hares
that offer the logged logos.
From the fecund heart,
thickets of outstretched limbs
radiate out in all directions.
Soon the mountains of Tian-Shan will shake
to the sound of green shoots
bursting though Eden’s gates.


Abandoned stanza options

Life branched out along
an ancient trade fair way,
the girth of the Eastern globe.
Significant to every step,
the apple tree
sends ambassadors
into the foothills of civilisation;
three eared hares,
that dance with outstretched limbs
logged logos from the Father’s arms.

Family branches of immigrants,
subtle shades of the perfect blue print
are planted on some distant shores.
Where embossed impressions,
left by three eared hares, with tales
of fruit wood migration,
illuminate the trail from here to there.

---

Feel more comfotable with what is down so far and ready to edit the crap out of it...or perhaps it needs to sit for a while?
Lead on, I think you are doing a fantastic job.

Alison, I really like where you've taken this. I made some notes above. Let's take this draft as far as we feel like taking it, and than set it aside for a bit. I would recommend not workshopping it until you've had a little bit of distance.

Again, what the point has been is not to produce this really nice poem, but to consider the process that brought us here. So, at this point look at my notes and think about them. We'll talk about next steps after we wrap up this one.

Best,

Todd

[cidermaid]

The mother tree lives in the wild woods,
on the ridges of the Tian Shan mountains,
where Eternity is firmly planted
in each unique apple seed.
In the beginning
sounds of falling apples,
echoed in the thunder clouds
gathered over the pommice pits.

De-fleshed a core of potential
is tossed aside by tourists,
rough strewn between the rocks and roots,
amongst the leafy shadows that rustle underfoot.
Others have fallen on foreign shores;
only to die of dehydration
in worm infested papaya sheets.

Sun fed streams trace the forest floor.
Moulded, soil based sugar casts
make foot shaped basins for mini lakes
and mark the trade route descent.
Once firm flesh is pierced and cut.
Crushed, the goodness oozes out;
piquant it drips from parted lips,
concentrated drops of guilt.
A wooden migration that illuminates
the trail from here to there.

“Here” is Alma-Atta.
where the mountains are snow covered,
and the final event is a mobius strip
of pale, blushing blooms tinged
with the scented ferment of declining wealth.
The air, crisp and clear, crunches with sound
pregnant with life as the harvest
beds itself in with frog popping fruit drops.

Into the foothills of civilization
Ambassadors are sent,
three eared hares
that offer the logged logos.
From the fecund heart,
thickets of outstretched limbs
radiate out in all directions.
Soon the mountains of Tian-Shan will shake
to the sound of green shoots
bursting though Eden’s gates.

(Re- removal of was in first stanza...if I do this then to my ear i needed to change sound to sounds.Intrested in your thoughts.
Think I prefer the flat statement of they, (in the second stanza) but thought I would live with only to for a while and see if it grows on me.
Still not convinced about if the three hares belong or not …but I do like them!
The change to golden streams – well, hope I have managed to change the image to something less toilet based)

[Todd]

Good to see you around Alison,

The mother tree lives in the wild woods,
on the ridges of the Tian Shan mountains,
where Eternity is firmly planted
in each unique apple seed.--maybe, cut unique. I never think the word adds anything unique.
In the beginning
sounds of falling apples,
echoed in the thunder clouds
gathered over the pommice pits.

De-fleshed a core of potential
is tossed aside by tourists,
rough strewn between the rocks and roots,
amongst the leafy shadows that rustle underfoot.
Others have fallen on foreign shores;
only to die of dehydration--I personally like it better, but in all things go with your own instincts on choices like this
in worm infested papaya sheets.

Sun fed streams trace the forest floor.--thank you
Moulded, soil based sugar casts
make foot shaped basins for mini lakes
and mark the trade route descent.
Once firm flesh is pierced and cut.--do you need cut or could crushed be pulled up? If you need cut, so be it
Crushed, the goodness oozes out;
piquant it drips from parted lips,
concentrated drops of guilt.
A wooden migration that illuminates
the trail from here to there.

“Here” is Alma-Atta.
where the mountains are snow covered,
and the final event is a mobius strip
of pale, blushing blooms tinged
with the scented ferment of declining wealth.
The air, crisp and clear, crunches with sound
pregnant with life as the harvest
beds itself in with frog popping fruit drops.

Into the foothills of civilization
Ambassadors are sent,
three eared hares
that offer the logged logos.
From the fecund heart,
thickets of outstretched limbs
radiate out in all directions.
Soon the mountains of Tian-Shan will shake
to the sound of green shoots
bursting though Eden’s gates.

(Re- removal of was in first stanza...if I do this then to my ear i needed to change sound to sounds.Intrested in your thoughts.
Think I prefer the flat statement of they, (in the second stanza) but thought I would live with only to for a while and see if it grows on me.
Still not convinced about if the three hares belong or not …but I do like them!
The change to golden streams – well, hope I have managed to change the image to something less toilet based)

That's all I've got at this point.

Best,

Todd