Last Grey

New to poetry? Unsure about the quality of your work? Then why not post here to receive some gentle feedback.
Post Reply
Suzanne
Perspicacious Poster
Perspicacious Poster
Posts: 4902
Joined: Sun Oct 19, 2008 4:46 pm
antispam: no
Location: Land of the Midnight Sun

Thu Aug 14, 2014 7:50 pm

Lady Grey

Steam rises, bottomless
brown silence in a round white rim.
Tea is a foreign comfort I usually resist
but it stirs reasons for your return,
holds warmth like a memory.

I watch the moon. The calendar
turns as defiantly as leaves in August
hang on to what might yet be
supple enough for new growth.

There's no turning back. I hold still-
tack scattered pieces on scraps
of watercolor paper, trap minutes
within little words
and set them in tidy rows.

I listen for the sound of footsteps
coming closer, breathe in
steam rising from my cup.




.
Last edited by Suzanne on Sun Dec 25, 2016 12:11 pm, edited 3 times in total.
KevJ
Preponderant Poster
Preponderant Poster
Posts: 825
Joined: Fri May 21, 2010 9:54 pm
Location: Birmingham

Fri Aug 15, 2014 5:16 pm

We love our tea on this side of the pond.
Really like that second stanza. It seems to suit the damp mid august atmosphere we have here at the moment. A portent of Autumn to come.

Kev
I am not a number ... I am a FREE man!
cynwulf
Prolific Poster
Prolific Poster
Posts: 552
Joined: Thu Oct 10, 2013 2:20 pm

Fri Aug 15, 2014 10:39 pm

Enjoyed this one. Sense of despairing, hopeful expectation well expressed. 2nd verse very evocative.
regards, Cynwulf.
Macavity
Moderator
Moderator
Posts: 12281
Joined: Tue May 10, 2005 10:29 am

Sat Aug 16, 2014 9:14 am

Suzanne wrote:Steam rises, bottomless
brown silence in a round white rim..........................like the synesthesia of 'brown silence'
Tea is a foreign comfort I usually resist
but it stirs reasons for your return,
holds warmth like a memory.......................................phrasing a bit familiar

I watch the moon. The calendar
turns as defiantly as leaves in August hang
on to what might yet be supple
enough for new growth.

There's no turning back. Meaning dissipates
without you. I hold still-
tack scattered pieces on scraps
of watercolor paper, trap minutes................................would 'moments' have more resonance? not sure, but like notion of trap/words
within little words and set them tidy
in a row............................................................................don't usually say this, but an adjective before 'tidy' would add some nuance

I listen for the sound of footsteps........................................listen/sound one implies the other
coming closer, breathe in
the steam rising from my cup. Exhale.

.
all the best

mac
Moth
Prolific Poster
Prolific Poster
Posts: 494
Joined: Thu Oct 13, 2011 4:33 am

Sun Aug 17, 2014 3:04 am

Lost for a constructive crit, I really enjoyed this, the language used, the imagery, meaning and emotion, so just a tiny niggle - Every morning since Sunday... I watch the moon? I did picture drinking tea in the daylight and the moon's only visible in the morning for part of the year. I know, I know, scraping the bottom of the barrel here really, so ignore me. Well done!
to be totally honest... whenever you feel you really shouldn't write that, that's exactly what you should write.
Beowulf
Posts: 17
Joined: Sat Aug 23, 2014 6:05 pm

Tue Sep 09, 2014 9:08 pm

The images of "Steam", "silence" evoke fragility, "round" on the other hand seems tad heavy.
wouldn't rim suggest circular ? (I agree not as a rule but more often than not)

I liked the second stanza especially the long sentence across lines.
Meaning dissipates without you -> isn't "without you" implicit in the given situation ?
User avatar
dafra
Posts: 48
Joined: Tue Aug 19, 2014 3:09 pm
Location: UK

Thu Sep 11, 2014 4:14 pm

I loved the imagery with one qualification which I might mention at the end.
Once I got the gist of the poem and dispelled an unfortunate image from my mind, the morning routine of likely futile hope and expectation was great with beautiful imagery

Please forgive my foul imagination which was of Leopold Bloom with his morning routine. The first two lines; an unflushable.
Post Reply