02-26-2014, 02:02 AM
(02-24-2014, 07:13 PM)tomoffing Wrote: Everything is still here-----------------
as I exhale, unfurling worries
as wisps of silk that purl
and shimmer in puddled moonlight,
each breathed into hindsight
by the first stars I ever saw.
A frozen one third acre of silence
amplifies echoes of innocence
that rustle in the briars
and sloe bushes, as I did
when still small enough
to evade their barbs.
Tumbling from ivy clad banks
I'd lop the heads of daffodils
we planted one October.
Planting patience you called it;
Digging the past
to bury the future.
Youthful unkempt clouds of daisies
blanket the deep sleeping bulbs
and I recall scepticism
of a promised blossoming;
I know better now
as you did then.
A salt and sugar crust
coats the stone garden shed
where I served out my sentences
among pitch forks and pick axes;
Discipline and consequence
cemented within its walls.
The old stooped chestnut stands stoic
flecked with strands of snow.
He's outgrown my treehouse
and stopped dropping conkers
since I stopped stringing them.
"...needs felling..." you noted recently.
I won't hear of it, the sapling can wait.
The dull beat of unseen swans
arrowing across Farnhnam field
and plashing the inky floodwater
drums the reflection of a forgotten question
of departures and transience.
"Where do they go Dad?"
"You'll follow to find out in your own time."
Roused by the door handle's cold click
and warm escaping clinks,
I turn on the threshold
pausing to inhale,
absorbing stillness.
Everything is still here.
Everything is still here
as I exhale, unfurling worries if the title to the first line is purposeful enjambment, I absolutely love it.
as wisps of silk that purl beautiful line, take out "that"
and shimmer in puddled moonlight,
each breathed into hindsight each breath moves into hindsight/each is breathed into hindsight
by the first stars I ever saw. the recollection of memory? good
A frozen one third acre of silence
amplifies echoes of innocence WC with innocence: "echoes of 8 or 9," whatever age you were maybe?
that rustle in the briars great image
and sloe bushes, as I did
when still small enough "when I was?" I want to see that here
to evade their barbs.
Tumbling from ivy clad banks from the ivy banks
I'd lop the heads of daffodils heads off the daffodils
we planted one October. you could use "in" since the reader is aware you are emphasizing nostalgia in this stanza
Planting patience you called it; this is the crux of your poem, to me, "planting patience." using this as a title would also work
Digging the past this line and the one after it aren't needed. your stanza supports itself, most definitely.
to bury the future.
Youthful unkempt clouds of daisies
blanket the deep sleeping bulbs "sleep among the deep-seated bulbs" could be quite pretty as well
and I recall scepticism if you require this spelling, otherwise: skepticism
of a promised blossoming; or, "of green promises,"?
I know better now the speaker's personal voice is here, I love the sense of vulnerability present
as you did then.
A salt and sugar crust
coats the stone garden shed
where I served out my sentences "where I served/among..." to play out the implication of serving food, and etc, it's lightly witty leading into the next line that the reader doesn't expect- "pitch forks..and axes"
among pitch forks and pick axes;
Discipline and consequence
cemented within its walls. or, "sunk into the soil beneath the rocks?" if you prefer something more deeply rooted
The old stooped chestnut stands stoic I would work on this line a small bit
flecked with strands of snow.
He's outgrown my treehouse
and stopped dropping conkers dash here to drive me into the next line?
since I stopped stringing them.
"...needs felling..." you noted recently. good use of dialogue, but this really catches me off guard. I don't think the reader is prepared for this dialogue just yet.
I won't hear of it, the sapling can wait. don't be afraid to italicize your particular moments
The dull beat of unseen swans From this point on, I feel a very different poem rise out. I would split these into two parts, & maybe that way you can utilize both your titles. I, II.
arrowing across Farnhnam field
and plashing the inky floodwater
drums the reflection of a forgotten question work on these last two lines in this stanza, I know you can dig deeper
of departures and transience.
"Where do they go Dad?" if you are going to place quotations around these lines, I would follow suit in the previous dialogue you implied earlier.
"You'll follow to find out in your own time." This line is a small bit of a mouth-full. Perhaps, "you'll find out in your own time" would be better suited here.
Roused by the door handle's cold click handle's sharp sounds
and warm escaping clinks,
I turn on the threshold
pausing to inhale, and breathe,
absorbing stillness. perfect chance to tie in your stars again to make similar here.
Everything is still here. good repetition
---------------
Hey there,
Your poem was a joy to read. Your speaker is very expressive and nostalgic.
The reader is such a third party, as is your speaker in a way. The speaker presents us memories
with great use of the senses to draw us in, and almost objectively recalls moments in the past rather
than placing his or her own understanding on them now, in the present. This gives me time as the reader,
to grasp my own perspective on the matter. Your form and stanza separation doesn't need any work, I think.
I made several comments above, a few stating something like "wc/word choice" and etc, mostly since I feel
those parts are extra places the poem can really shine, because every word will matter.
There are a lot of strong images throughout the poem, and I noted above that "planting patience" is the crux of
your poem. Without this, there's room for the reader to wonder about your young speaker's objectivity as to
what he or she really feels. What I'm getting, is that young admiration and bitterness that comes very intermixed
with the process of observing a role model. The concept of rushing the growth of patience or attempting to accept
it an early age is a fantastic device in the poem.
Looking forward to seeing future revisions if you continue on

-VisualCondyle (Tara)
"a light catches somewhere, finds human spirit to burn on...it dwells: slowly the light, its veracity unshaken, dies but moves to find a place to break out elsewhere; this light, tendance, neglect is human concern working with what is."- Ammons
visualcondyle.com
Keep reading, keep writing :-]
visualcondyle.com
Keep reading, keep writing :-]

