Poetry Forum

I've been working on this for a couple of years on and off. It has another part which is stranger, different, but still about the fog and what it does, particualry at night! I'll post it sometime soon. I would like to send this one away and would like help with getting it up to scratch. Many thanks! Fifi M.

I Am Beneath Autumn

I.

Where slowly
the soft, sharp fog
draws the pink sky
to the ground.
It comes now. Cool shadow of smoke.
It winds like a spirit through the door,
hanging itself
as condensed drops on the frame.
The house is hung in sheets of repose
when it comes like this
and stays for the week
or the fortnight.
In temporal immanence: an interiority,
an innerness of experience and the breath of worldly-things.
It carries within its tingling atmosphere
enormous silvering maps
charting the imperceptible quivers
and gnarled-accretions, creations of the twisted Banksia trunk.
In it, too, are the sudden mounts of basalt. A volcano mud island,
from which an intimate argentate forest is improvised;
it was forged within the holy strands
of the endlessly strumming heart-tissue.
Yellow-Tailed Black Cockatoo,
moving deeply and slowly, is watchful
as cloud-birth lifts the wet, amethyst night and wooded earth.
Fully formed, levitating oasis; dense and hush weald
encircled by the serious red lines of sandstone strata
preserving its memories in old bones, in lost shells:
everything is eroded by a single, continuous drop of rain.
Autumn fog brings all of the world here
and cradles our haggard eyes.

A mod may disagree, but if you're looking for crit to shine this for publication ("send this one away"), then it should be up top on Experienced.

For my part, here's a a couple of nits:

"gnarled-accretions, creations of the twisted Banksia trunk" - looks great, but doesn't read so well.

"tingling atmosphere" - needs a better modifier. It's a bit vanilla.

"preserving its memories" - a above. Vanilla.

Having said that, it's accomplished and well -crafted, and beyond my skill to write or properly crit.

"cloud-birth lifts the wet, amethyst night and wooded earth.". Perfectly phrased. Kudos.

Kindest...

Thank you for reading it, Nar! I will try out something fiercer (?) in the places you have suggested and see what comes of it. It is really great to get some feedback for this reason - sometimes it's difficult to see the words/images that aren't working and it helps to have another's eyes for it.

fifimae wrote:
Hi fifimae,

You have penned a very interesting poem with 'I am Beneath Autumn'. I initially thought it was modifier heavy but as the poem progressed
I began to change my mind. I'm not really sure if my interp' is penetrating the metaphysical aspects of this piece but I'll
attempt to highlight my first impressions. The poem is a wonderful example of theoretical lexicography, so much so that the complexities
of language tend to obstruct the central premise or intent/thrust. I had to read and reread the poem several times to see if I could unravel
its secrets.

A few thoughts:

I.

Where slowly
the soft, sharp fog ... The notion of 'soft' and 'sharp' fog are visual impressions perhaps ?
draws the pink sky
to the ground. ...I'm with you so far.
It comes now. Cool shadow of smoke. ...Clouds and fog are often referred to as 'smoke' especially amongst the climbing fraternity. Just think of the smoke of Everest. I don't think this is necessarily a fault btw.
It winds like a spirit through the door,
hanging itself
as condensed drops on the frame. ...love from 'it winds' to 'frame'.
The house is hung in sheets of repose ...'Hang' and 'hung' are interchangeable with a nudge here and there. They are separated by one line only but I could well be missing something.
when it comes like this
and stays for the week ...I wouldn't specify the duration of its stay, 'week or a fortnight' sounds like something you'd hear in the pub.
In temporal immanence: an interiority, ...The language becomes too complex here and onwards I think. (not sure though) I've assumed you're examining the state of being outside of time where the divine manifests itself in the physical world. God is everywhere, hears everything, knows everything and is in fact omnipotent. It is exemplified by monotheistic religions and is the source of much philosophical discussion. In addition you present a striking contrast with one's inner being.
an innerness of experience and the breath of worldly-things.
It carries within its tingling atmosphere ...I can see why you've employed 'tingling' and in some respects it works. However, could you find a word to amplify the evocative nature of this 'tingling atmosphere'. Just thinkin'.
enormous silvering maps ...silvering maps and argentate forests (further down) seem to be the same metaphor expressed slightly differently.
charting the imperceptible quivers
and gnarled-accretions, creations of the twisted Banksia trunk. ...Reads like some sort of metaphysical observation, although I'm not really connecting to them. Nothing new there.
In it, too, are the sudden mounts of basalt. A volcano mud island, ...What is a 'sudden mount' ? Are we outside of time again? See, I'm struggling. Similarly, I wondered if you were referring to 'volcano mud' or a 'mud island' that's volcanic. I'm not altogether following the shift from volcanic 'basalt' to 'mud'. IE wet soil. Soils are essentially composed of minerals, air, water and composted forest debris. If this is the connection, and my assumption is correct, I'd say you've strayed into overkill.
from which an intimate argentate forest is improvised;
it was forged within the holy strands
of the endlessly strumming heart-tissue ...Reads like a metaphor for the perpetual, tireless pulse of the healthy heart. 'Holy' suggests some sort of Divine construct.
Yellow-Tailed Black Cockatoo, ...Another Australian reference methinks.
moving deeply and slowly, is watchful ...'deeply' is interesting'
as cloud-birth lifts the wet, amethyst night and wooded earth. ...'Cloud-birth' reminds me of the tropical rainforest's cloudbursts.
Fully formed, levitating oasis; dense and hush weald ...I read this as 'lush weald' but 'hush weald' IE quiet woodland area is delightful.
encircled by the serious red lines of sandstone strata
preserving its memories in old bones, in lost shells: ...References to the ancients? The preservation of the memories of 'old' or ancient bones hints at aboriginal man and the unique presence of Australia's flora and fauna in the northern tropics.
everything is eroded by a single, continuous drop of rain. ...Time erodes everything.
Autumn fog brings all of the world here
and cradles our haggard eyes. ... I like the close. Actually I like the poem as a whole but I'm just not sure what's happening some of the time.

Well, there we have it and now that I've muddied the waters I'll retreat quietly to the demands of my own forest. (Garden)

Best

JJ

Jackie, Kev, David S., Firebird,...plenty post in beginners and publish

Anyway to the poem...

Where slowly
the soft, sharp fog
draws the pink sky
to the ground.

Would I be right in guessing that this sentence has been chopped into four lines to slow the reading to mimic the unrolling fog?

mac

Hi fifimae,

I don't think of myself as any great critic but, as a rule, I only critique things that I like, so that's a good start eh?


I Am Beneath Autumn

I.

Where slowly
the soft, sharp fog----------------------------can fog be sharp? I'm not feeling this modifier.
draws the pink sky
to the ground.
It comes now. Cool shadow of smoke.-------smoke is not bad, but could there be something a touch more exotic?
It winds like a spirit through the door,
hanging itself
as condensed drops on the frame. --------I like this image.
The house is hung in sheets of repose -----------if you wanted to connect "hanging" from the last line, perhaps you need a stronger connector (The house "itself" is hung, with sheets of repose"). If you weren't looking for this sort of connection, then I think the proximity of "hanging" and "hung" is a bit jarring to me at least.

when it comes like this
and stays for the week
or the fortnight. ------------I think that specifying a length of time here, diminishes the image. You could cut from "and stays" to the end of "fortnight" and I think that would flow much better.

In temporal immanence: an interiority, ------------I know what you're getting at, but interiority is a contortion too far for me lol.
an innerness of experience and the breath of worldly-things.--------------do you need the hyphen here?
It carries within its tingling atmosphere--------------------what about "scintillating" atmosphere or is it too close to "silvering in the next line? I like the proximity myself but this is not my piece.

enormous silvering maps
charting the imperceptible quivers
and gnarled-accretions, creations of the twisted Banksia trunk.---------------getting a tad too wordy here. If you want to keep the imperceptible quivers and gnarled-accretions, I don't think you need the ", creations", just go straight to "of the Banksia trunk. To say "twisted" is just repeating "gnarled accretions"

In it, too, are the sudden mounts of basalt. A volcano mud island,-----------not sure what you mean by "sudden" and perhaps it should be "volcanic" mud island, at least that's how I read it.

from which an intimate argentate forest is improvised;-------argentate, would "silvered" not do? I think sometimes a more obscure word can intimidate the reader, make them feel a bit stupid if they have to run the dictionary every 5 mins.

it was forged within the holy strands
of the endlessly strumming heart-tissue. ---------again I'm not sure what you're trying to tell me, who's heart tissue. I could understand better the heartwood of the forest perhaps???

Yellow-Tailed Black Cockatoo,
moving deeply and slowly, is watchful----------can a cockatoo move deeply (Ooooo errrrrrr missus)
as cloud-birth lifts the wet, amethyst night and wooded earth. --------cloud birth, I think you could better phrase this image, but the rest of the line is lovely.

Fully formed, levitating oasis; dense and hush weald --------as is this one.
encircled by the serious red lines of sandstone strata
preserving its memories in old bones, in lost shells: ----------maybe "and lost shells"???
everything is eroded by a single, continuous drop of rain. ----------do "single" and "continuous" sit well together here? I know what you mean, but it seems to me that a single drop of rain cannot continuously fall.

Autumn fog brings all of the world here
and cradles our haggard eyes.

I hope you don't mind too much my observations, they're only my opinions, someone else may well disagree.

Also, I'm looking forward to part 2, with it's darker side mmmmmmmmmmmmm

Best regards

Mark

Dear JJ, Mac, and Mark - thank you ever so much for reading my poem! I am very grateful for the audience and to have your feedback! Your comments have been stimulating and I have my work cut out for me. I definitely subscribe to the idea that the author is dead, and that the reader's interpretation reigns supreme. After all, I cannot make you see what I see in the poem or have the experiences which have led to the poem itself. You have your own which will inform your reading, as it should. So, as much as I'd like to explain what I mean in certain places, I am more inclined to take these notes away and see what I can do to convey clearly or guide certain kinds of meanings, as far as I possible can or where the poem is idiosyncratically mystical and needs fuller exposition. Having said that I will offer something context: yes, this is an Australian landscape and, as such, there may be geographic and imagistic forms which are missed by Imperial eyes . More than this, the fog, the basalt mount, the eroding water - these are all features of the particular wilderness in which I live. Mostly sandstone plateaux and the occasional "sudden mount" of basalt, seemingly floating about the clouds on foggy, wet days. Often the fog lasts for days and sometimes a couple of weeks. I think it's possible that a more local reader might understand how the images of the landscape work. BUT, that's not really good enough if there are doubts about the language/word choice. I will definitely push the poem to make it both clearer - linguistically and in its landscape/situatedness - and more together in its narration. One question I do have of my readers: I guess I wonder how the poem affects you? What does it make you feel? I know why and how I was moved to write it but I wonder what of that is communicated or what this poem might, in turn, inspire in terms of feeling? I plan to post part two next week, if you are interested in following.


Again, many thanks to you! I will absolutely return the favour.

Hi fifimae,

You're more than welcome. To answer your question about what it made me feel, I would have to say that it gave me a sense of isolation, almost like you (or the protagonist) is the only person in the whole landscape. It has a mystical quality that I like very much and a sense of stillness and reverence for the place you're describing. You must love it very much there and I think you're lucky to have such a place to inspire you.

After having read the background you gave, I do now see how a mount can be sudden lol, although I do still think that a reader without that knowledge would struggle to see the image.

I too tend to subscribe to the idea that the readers interp., is what counts, and that will always be something slightly different to each reader, but you still have to write the piece well enough to allow a reader to form their view. I think you do that very well.

ATB

Mark

There's a good sense of stillness and isolation here, I feel. You should perhaps think about your use of adjectives - it's usually stronger writing to keep them to a minimum - here, perhaps

tingling atmosphere
enormous silvering maps
charting the imperceptible quivers

You also change the feel of the language quite sharply here, from strong images told in simple words to

In temporal immanence: an interiority, - which is quite a different register.

I think with this sort of subject there's a temptation to go for profoundness, an exaggeration of emotion - why holy strands, why haggard eyes, for example?

Ros

I take note of your comments Ros. To answer your question about language choice - in short, William Blake. I was reading Blake at the time and I love the drama of his poetry and what it attempts to achieve philosophically. I love Romantic poetry and the way nature figures in both a simple everyday way and as a means to a restoration of metaphysical experience (however passe nature may have since become as a modern poetic subject). Poems/poetry of place - that's what I feel like I am writing or would like to write. And I think that nature figures in that in ways that are personal and everyday and as the numinous. It think too that there is a post-colonial reason to approach landscape - particularly in Oz - in intuitive and reverential ways. There is a lot of violence and fear within the places and spaces of Australia - in the way they are used and imagined. So I'm experimenting - what can be restored or (re)created? What does the landscape feel like and what does it inspire?

Thanks for your advice! I will try out your suggestions.