Poetry Forum

Bygone. akimbo she lounges idling slight arms her doe eyes shimmering wise to our lost entwining couch gazing out golden from her twilit window I drive by years after her drawing of curtains late in glass reverie to a blank semblance of being more than past more than passing her warm beckoning elect...

I enjoyed this powerful bit of venting, but I agree with the comments already made, particularly the observation by Mac that it 'needs to breathe' more. Otherwise it has the more oppressive sense of a rant, rather than an explanation of self, which is what I think you intend given the gentler, enigm...

Intimidatingly moving, Seth, and rather lovely as a sort of memorial aside.
Particularly like

'he brings the autumn
with his bag of piano tuning bits'

and

'that will be it for another year,
his fragment will be all.'

Well done.

Iain

Many thanks to all for your analysis. I have been experimenting without punctuation to try and make a more visceral stream of reading. This piece is an attempt to describe an incident that took place some years ago during a litter pick in local woods, when I unintentionally pulled a ground wasps nes...

Terrific humour, Ray, I really enjoy this, it rattles along lovely.

Particular fondness for the introductory half of stanza 1. Any chance of a small adjustment to

'my wife sat outside a cafeteria in Melbourne, Victoria, ' which I feel breaks the rhythm a bit awkwardly?

Iain

Creel. I have a keen fear of black plastic bags not rolled cosily in kitchen drawers or neatly bowed vessels of land-filler packaging the kind half buried by leaf mould in quiet woods surreptitiously cornering blackly from the mulch to a shadowy crook of your innocent eye there it is once blown off ...

I like this a great deal, it has that feel of something that flowed into place enjoyably. The dove 'like a plane with one propeller' makes perfect sense if taken metaphorically as the awkward movement of its' flight - they do clatter about a bit. I agree with Elph that maybe blackbirds don't croon -...

Many thanks for your comments, folks. Steamboats, you are quite write about the arbitrary punctuation, and I will tidy it up. Dafra, the 'abyssal field' seems so because it slopes and creates a stark contrast to a high tree canopy along its' boundaries. Our nearest open water is sea, so our swallows...

Hi Seth,

I really like the revised version of this - the form of line structure emphasises the subject, giving it a more solitary sense.

How about losing 'the' before 'chorus'?

Iain

a letterbox of skies is stretching open the west to blessed cool arms of autumn statued midge still, the dawn-glow hedge secretes sweet temptings of bird in a liquid rustle the old house rumbles taps and cisterns and floorboards soak up creaking weight, shuffling toward her blinkered views to hiss c...

Many thanks to all for your comments, and apologies for not responding sooner - I have been away and wifi-less. k-j, I agree that 'fish/dish' is a wee bit obvious a rhyme, however I find it difficult to axe 'blue flaming fish'. Samphire does grow along parts of the shore near where I try to fish, an...

where have you gone blue flaming fish? our tides are low to the deep weed shelf swiftly come by my silver troll the sun is high on this empty dish where do you go oh, shining mackerel mine? when my belly rolls like the shingle tide here is samphire, wild garlic and lemons awaiting and sizzling butte...

Wry and witty - perfect groan for 'could bees'.

I think you should lose 'things' and 'happened' in line 2 of stanza 3 for a bit of rhythm. Good title.

Enjoyed,

Iain

Actually, I enjoy the dry humour of this.
The homily of slightly random preferences has a self-deprecating quality at the same time as re-emphasising 'You won't be the focus'. It is an escape from being too serious about stuff.
I think it quite clever.

Iain

Seems you are buzzing very expressively. I like the build up of imagery, particularly the second verse, and the sense of excitement created as the images intensify. I assume 'the' in 'the all this at my disposal' was unintended, while the contradiction at the end is obviously deliberate, linking bac...

Thanks Ray - yes it is intended, to convey the sort of condescension that inspired the poem.

she is everywhere not of this life fits into infinitesimal places spaces so small the mind has no name slid between tide-rising suck on pink shingle kelp frond and whelk shard and froth of the beach she is furled in the corners of oak fruit buried burrowed ‘twixt mice by the drench sphagnum feet in ...

Thanks Suzanne - felt like writing frivolously that day.
Mostly true, but I embellished slightly regarding the mouse.

Iain

Hi Ray I had a very similar grammar school experience, if not so long ago, and so feel a sort of recognition for what you describe here. Whilst the observation made by Ros is quite valid, I wonder if the short chopped lines and slightly 'matter-of-fact' tone are meant to be a device to reflect the n...

I have read this about a dozen times now, and really enjoy the balance of rhythm and fluctuating rhyme - reminiscent of 'the muttering sea' perhaps? This has an enigmatic quality about it, particularly the last four lines, of which I am still trying to gauge the variety of possible meanings. I do th...

a dour American came to the house demanding heating for July, semi-skim and the cute mouse be remov-ed he burnt out the tank using hot water for three sent back breakfast to preserve a low-fat anatomy moaned about the driveway where we live in the woods parked his tiny eco-car so no-one else could a...

Thank you for your comments, David and Ian. I see a bit of explanation is required. The orchards in question were emptied of the men who worked them to First World War France. As a consequence, my Grandpa spent his latter teenage years and most of his twenties working by himself for the local estate...

I agree with Suzanne re the 'tenor horns', but otherwise this is very good.

Particularly like two images, 'the sun, charcoaled', and 'intent on flight, slipping the flatfoot's hold'.

Really enjoyable.

Iain

This has a lovely flow to it, I like the way you describe domestic actions to convey a sense of longing.

'nest the curve of bowls' is gorgeous.

I don't think 'on my tasks' or 'only' are necessary, and 'unfolding' is a fold too many. How about 'unfurling'?

Iain

Thanks k-j, you seem to have hit upon quite precise niggles I had myself - how to introduce a person whose nature was framed by a duty to family, and explain why it had to be that way,and try to be consistently lyrical. I do like using repetition, but I think Ray's observation in this instance was w...