Time past

[Ros]

Shall it be so again, and shall it be so?
When the wind comes down from the high rocks
and rubs over the dry stones,
when the dust curls in the crevices
and the ice cream van
distorts chimes into wails -

here I stand, mirrored,
press powder into cracks,
stretch dry skin to smoothness.
This face I no longer claim as mine.
My bones replaced these seven years,
I am not what I was -

echoes of minutes and days
flow past, divide and join
round my silent body,
heather purple on the hills, then brown
wet snow returning to water,
soaked earth dried and cracked by sun -

I cannot go back, yet I wait at the still point.
Each stands alone, their own harvest flowing.
We touch briefly at the angled points,
intersections so sharp we ricochet
apart, parallel only with our own shadows -

shadows of leaves fall
on garden paths and park benches,
our names engraved on plaques
screwed to faded woodwork.
Sit here and be still,
as those before are still.

[Sharra]

oooh, I liked this a lot. Very visual, very evocative.
ok then – S1, I liked the image of the wind and the dust, but for me the ice-cream van lines felt out of register for the rest of the poem.

S2 I thought was working well – I liked the image of bones being replaced these seven years – I’m guessing that’s factual?

S3 – I liked the image of the seeing the past again, but I’m half feeling that the purple heather is too well-used. Also, do you mean the purple heather is turning brown? or it’s brown wet snow? If the former then I think you need a comma after brown.

S4 – I don’t know if you need ‘I cannot go back’ in there, as that is implicit in the rest of the poem. And the shifting between I, their and we made this stanza feel cluttered to me. I wonder if ‘we stand alone, our harvest flowing’ would work instead?
The lines about the ‘angled points’ are very scientificky you, whereas the rest of the poem feels less so. I really like the images of the intersections, and the ricochet, but for me, this stanza doesn’t feel as solid as the others. I think it is this complicated image of these 3 lines. I wonder if it would be better pared down, as I spent far too long caught up trying to work out the precise meaning of these lines.

I liked the last stanza, I thought it was working well, and also thought the final 2 lines were just right.
Thanks for the read
Sharra
xx

[ray miller]

Some lovely lines - when the dust curls in the crevices - intersections so sharp we ricochet apart -and I loved the gneral tone and flow, very Eliot, as you remarked yourself. I do get lost in the 2nd stanza, though.Can't figure that bit out.

[Helen Bywater]

I like this a lot, Ros. The first and last stanzas are my favourites. I wasn't sure about the ice cream van at first, but on re-reading, I like it.

One small point of grammar:

I cannot go back, yet I wait at the still point.
Each stands alone, their own harvest flowing.
We touch briefly at the angled points,
intersections so sharp we ricochet
apart, parallel only with our own shadows -

Your use of "their" in L2 isn't correct, strictly speaking. We lack a word that means "he or she" in English. I often use the "singular they" for convenience myself, in conversation or informal writing, but I'm not keen on it in formal writing. Perhaps you could do something like:

We stand alone, our own harvests flowing,
touching briefly at the angled points,

Or you could just call it poetic licence, but it will jar with some people.

Helen

[Ros]

Sharra, Ray, Helen, thanks for all the comments.

Yes, bone cells take about 7 years to completely divide and replace themselves.

The third stanza seems to be causing some problems. You are right, Helen, using their is not correct. Using 'his' felt wrong too, though, if technically right. I wanted to keep the 'Each stands alone', but I think I may have to change it to 'We stand alone, our own harvests flowing,' or something similar. It might remove the confusion.

[David]

A bit late to this, but I have to say it's very good. I'm not too familiar with Eliot, but I think I can see that the first stanza is like him. It's very Prufrocky, isn't it? In fact, am I right in thinking that a Prufrock-like melancholy and taking stock runs through this whole thing?

I found the jump from your silent body to the heather on the hills a bit jarring. Does that bit say what you want it to say?

Lovely piece all together.

Cheers

David