Just after lunch I took a rake and swept
young, healthy clipped leaves off my summer lawn.
Some clung to twigs and branches, neatly drawn
along as though alive, formations kept.
A sentimental person might have wept
on seeing vivid, growing life a pawn
to hail-shot sleeting down before the dawn
in fusillades and volleys while I slept.
But when I’d raked no leaf bag came to hand -
in summertime there’s not a one in store
to shroud those cut-down leaves still green with hope.
So there they lie, untidy fallen band
of brothers shot down with no autumn soar
or death-proud colors; widow-trees must cope.
edit2
Just after lunch I took a rake and swept
young, healthy clipped leaves off my summer lawn.
Some clung to twigs and branches, neatly drawn
along as though alive, formations kept.
A sentimental person might have wept
to see such vivid, growing life a pawn
of hail-shot sleeting down before the dawn
in fusillades and volleys while I slept.
But when I’d raked no leaf bag came to hand -
in summertime there’s not a one in store
to shroud those cut-down leaves still green with hope.
So there they lie, untidy fallen band
of brothers shot down with no autumn soar
or death-proud colors. Sorrowing, trees cope.
edit1
Just after lunch I took a rake and swept
young, healthy clipped leaves off my summer lawn.
Some clung to twigs and branches, neatly drawn
along as though alive, formations kept.
A sentimental person might have wept
to see such vivid, growing life a pawn
of hail-shot sleeting down before the dawn
in fusillades and volleys while I slept.
But when I’d raked no leaf bag came to hand -
in summertime there’s not a one in store
to shroud those cut-down leaves still green with hope.
So there they lie, untidy fallen band
of brothers shot down with no autumn soar
or death-proud colors, summer grass their scope.
original;
Just after lunch I took a rake and swept
plump, healthy green leaves off my summer lawn.
Some clung to twigs and branches, neatly drawn
along as though alive, formations kept.
A sentimental person might have wept
to see such young, green, growing life a pawn
of hail-shot sleeting down before the dawn
in fusillades and volleys while I slept.
But when I’d raked no leaf bag came to hand -
in summertime there’s not a one in store
to shroud those cut-down leaves still green with hope.
So there they lie, untidy fallen band
of brothers shot down with no autumn soar
or death-proud colors. Like trees, we must cope.
Hi, duke, kudos on the rhyme, so well done I didn't notice it on first read, tho it's obvious now. The story and images are compelling, a few nits:
(07-14-2016, 10:10 PM)dukealien Wrote: Hailstorm
Just after lunch I took a rake and swept
plump, healthy green leaves off my summer lawn. Plump doesn't work for me, swept plump makes no sense on its own and I think the read would be smoother without it, not even a replacement.
Some clung to twigs and branches, neatly drawn
along as though alive, formations kept. Nice.
A sentimental person might have wept
to see such young, green, growing life a pawn You've use green already, something else?
of hail-shot sleeting down before the dawn
in fusillades and volleys while I slept. Beautiful lines.
But when I’d raked no leaf bag came to hand -
in summertime there’s not a one in store
to shroud those cut-down leaves still green with hope.
So there they lie, untidy fallen band
of brothers shot down with no autumn soar
or death-proud colors. Like trees, we must cope. I would have preferred an ending about the benefits of an involuntary pruning rather than the "we cope" conclusion. Aside from those last five words, love these three lines.
Interesting and fun to read, thanks for posting it.
billy wrote:welcome to the site. make it your own, wear it like a well loved slipper and wear it out. ella pleads:please click forum titles for posting guidelines, important threads. New poet? Try Poetic DevicesandWard's Tips
I thought it was just going to be pretty without substance through the first two stanzas, although well formed. The second half brings in a nice kicker. So excellent volta. I could have done without the "hit you in the face" moral at the end, " Like trees, we must cope" as it seems to cheapen the poem, almost as though written by someone else, or some other mind. I suspect difficulty with the end line and in desperation you took the more or less easy way out, but I don't think you can get away with it. It really just mars an otherwise excellent effort, especially in terms of rhythmic and rhyme quality.
Oh, I also like the internal rhyme of colors and brothers.
Best,
dale
How long after picking up the brush, the first masterpiece?
The goal is not to obfuscate that which is clear, but make clear that which isn't.
Sincere thanks to both critics! Edits are meant to smooth things out (though, @ellajam, L2 still has its unaccented leading syllable); also, "green" is now reserved for the location where its impact is greatest. (Hmmm... wondering, if the white space had been eliminated, would the rhyme have gone completely unnoticed?)
Yes, those last five words stunk up the place; @Erthona's deduction about their origin is very close to exact. I think I now have the end rhyme for L14, but there is tremendous scope for the other 3-4 words leading up to it... not sure the present edit is final for them.
edit1
Just after lunch I took a rake and swept
young, healthy clipped leaves off my summer lawn.
Some clung to twigs and branches, neatly drawn
along as though alive, formations kept.
A sentimental person might have wept
to see such vivid, growing life a pawn
of hail-shot sleeting down before the dawn
in fusillades and volleys while I slept.
But when I’d raked no leaf bag came to hand -
in summertime there’s not a one in store
to shroud those cut-down leaves still green with hope.
So there they lie, untidy fallen band
of brothers shot down with no autumn soar
or death-proud colors, summer grass their scope.
I think the poem could gain by throwing in that old fashioned moral of the story like you did in the original. Only, there it was abrupt, coming right at the end. it really ought to be a 3-4 line summary. Without the moralising there's no second level to the poem.
Suggestion below:
And we, when our dreams scatter like a band
of brothers curtailed in their prime, before
russet Autumn shakes their rusty hands,
like trees must cope.
(07-15-2016, 11:24 PM)Achebe Wrote: I think the poem could gain by throwing in that old fashioned moral of the story like you did in the original. Only, there it was abrupt, coming right at the end. it really ought to be a 3-4 line summary. Without the moralising there's no second level to the poem.
Suggestion below:
And we, when our dreams scatter like a band
of brothers curtailed in their prime, before
russet Autumn shakes their rusty hands,
like trees must cope.
Good critique - that last line is a poser (and it's tempting to just cut it off, incomplete, after "colors").
After a fair number of excursions, I come back to the original end-rhyme and story, but without injecting that didactic "we." I think it's fully implied with all the anthropomorphizing in the last four lines, creating the desired summary without recasting the other phrases that seem to work pretty well as they were.
edit2
Just after lunch I took a rake and swept
young, healthy clipped leaves off my summer lawn.
Some clung to twigs and branches, neatly drawn
along as though alive, formations kept.
A sentimental person might have wept
to see such vivid, growing life a pawn
of hail-shot sleeting down before the dawn
in fusillades and volleys while I slept.
But when I’d raked no leaf bag came to hand -
in summertime there’s not a one in store
to shroud those cut-down leaves still green with hope.
So there they lie, untidy fallen band
of brothers shot down with no autumn soar
or death-proud colors. Sorrowing, trees cope.
Can I just say: I love this. I think the poem is beautiful, and you've done such a wonderful job bringing this scene to life and going into meaningful metaphor with it.
I just don't like the word "cope." That's what's throwing me off. I think you do need something after "colors" to wrap up the message, but I would like it to be something that's more from the natural world. Perhaps something that points to a coming back alive after the loss. What I like about cope is that it highlights the tree's continuation in spite of adversity, however I think it could be a stronger with an image that implies that there will be some kind of resurrection of vitality lost.
(07-18-2016, 01:20 AM)lizziep Wrote: Can I just say: I love this. I think the poem is beautiful, and you've done such a wonderful job bringing this scene to life and going into meaningful metaphor with it.
I just don't like the word "cope." That's what's throwing me off. I think you do need something after "colors" to wrap up the message, but I would like it to be something that's more from the natural world. Perhaps something that points to a coming back alive after the loss. What I like about cope is that it highlights the tree's continuation in spite of adversity, however I think it could be a stronger with an image that implies that there will be some kind of resurrection of vitality lost.
Who knows. Sorry if this is utterly unhelpful.
But, again, great job.
lizziep
Thanks for the insightful critique. To me, "cope" contains apropos connections with "coppice" and its roots in lopping, trimming, and pruning. Mainly, though, I'm quite taken with L11 and seem consequently to be
marching in smaller and smaller
circles around that
terminal
period
dot
.
So-far discarded candidates for the five syllables include
Parent-trees must cope.
Trees and God must cope. (double meaning, with the archaic "cope" as pruning)
Trees must sigh and cope.
Trees sigh, God must cope.
God and trees will cope.
After lunch I took a rake and swept
the young, clipped leaves off my lawn,
some still clung to branches, neatly drawn
along as though alive, formations kept,
(I think the above has fewer filler words)
through fusillades and volleys while I slept
of hail-shot sleeting down before the dawn -
like the cold fire falling angels wept
fading from the light and falling on.
(OKAY, prolly a bit overdone)
(07-18-2016, 11:29 PM)Achebe Wrote: the variations sarkozy:-
After lunch I took a rake and swept
the young, clipped leaves off my lawn,
some still clung to branches, neatly drawn
along as though alive, formations kept,
(I think the above has fewer filler words)
through fusillades and volleys while I slept
of hail-shot sleeting down before the dawn -
like the cold fire falling angels wept
fading from the light and falling on.
(OKAY, prolly a bit overdone)
At the risk (and it is a serious risk) of being defensive and excusing failings rather than trying to amend them...
Yes, every word should be the right word and the best word; when this is accomplished, there will be no filler regardless of form; every word will fit like the varied stones of Machu Picchu which seemingly by chance form walls of even height, thickness, and batter.
What I suggest is that some rhythmic, sounding "filler" sets a mood as well as filling space; form has a purpose. If the sky were all lightning, who could watch? It would be nothing but a bright, snarling sky, continuous bombast. "Filler" may even relax the reader a bit, setting him up for the next shock or strike.
So, not to disregard your excellent, well-meant critique or the rewrite, and not to claim that I'm anywhere near that ideal, but I'm sticking to the form and trying to winkle out the very best that can be done with those last five syllables (four, really). They're out there.
Quote: "Filler" may even relax the reader a bit, setting him up for the next shock or strike.
'Filler' = unnecessary words. I'm suggesting that the house not be built with asbestos insulation, not that you replace it with shredded canvas from the Louvre :-)
Just after lunch I took a rake and swept
young, healthy clipped leaves off my summer lawn.
Some clung to twigs and branches, neatly drawn
along as though alive, formations kept.
A sentimental person might have wept
on seeing vivid, growing life a pawn
to hail-shot sleeting down before the dawn
in fusillades and volleys while I slept.
But when I’d raked no leaf bag came to hand -
in summertime there’s not a one in store
to shroud those cut-down leaves still green with hope.
So there they lie, untidy fallen band
of brothers shot down with no autumn soar
or death-proud colors; widow-trees must cope.
To repeat, many thanks to all the critics, particularly @Achebe and @lizziep. I haven't applied all your suggestions ("cope" is still there) but did fix a couple of other lines that were annoying me while attempting an oxymoron (somber fireworks?) to escape that painted-into-a-corner of the last line. The runner-up:
This is an interesting poem about the clash of logic between people and nature, even if it can be as simple as raking around the bushes. Forgive me for not reading through every thread prior to commenting.
Just after lunch I took a rake and swept why just after lunch? it doesn't seem to fit the theme of the poem and is distracting the more i read it
young, healthy clipped leaves off my summer lawn.
Some clung to twigs and branches, neatly drawn good sounds
along as though alive, formations kept. way to bring the images alive. i don't know how i feel about 'kept' but maybe i'm being too critical
A sentimental person might have wept good rhythm. this line reads very well, even if crying over the bushes is a bit far fetched
on seeing vivid, growing life a pawn i get the rhyme but pawn (though evoking the metaphorical warfare of chess) steps away from the image quite far. it's like a metaphor of a metaphor.
to hail-shot sleeting down before the dawn good noun+verb combo here
in fusillades and volleys while I slept. thesaurus consultation happened here i'd say
But when I’d raked no leaf bag came to hand -
in summertime there’s not a one in store good double meaning in store
to shroud those cut-down leaves still green with hope.
So there they lie, untidy fallen band small nit: isn't the pile of leaves more tidy than before? so is untidy the best word?
of brothers shot down with no autumn soar good continuation of war metaphor, like nature is at war with itself and we try to pick up the pieces
or death-proud colors; widow-trees must cope. while i love the idea of widow trees, fresh green growth makes me think of children, not husbands, but there isn't a word for a parent who has lost a child is there
Thanks to both recent critics for the excellent comments.
@kolemath - Good point on on L1: it's there because that happens to be when I went out to rake them. If the line has any purpose, it might be to show how routine such an activity is, not worth changing the day's schedule. Must consider how the line could grab better.
No thesaurus was cracked. Have always been a military history enthusiast, both before and after making a tiny bit of the stuff.
"Mother-trees" or "trees, bereaved..." are possible.
@just mercedes - Thanks, particularly, for your critique. L14 remains a puzzle; your suggestion leads me to think root of the problem is in L13 rather than L11.
Non-practicing atheist
for the other 3-4 words leading up to it... not sure the present edit is final for them.
and seem consequently to be
