2nd version Royal London Hospital

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calico
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Thu Jun 03, 2010 4:15 pm

Revision - didn't go as planned


The stand wheels through corridors
swaying pouch of feed
trailing tubes like an elephant mother;
strip-lighted days, alcohol rub,
truncated words: meds. & obs.
breathe out
and in
the metallic air of Ashfield St

by the extension of silver and blue
students shed plastic aprons and scrubs
and take their places to play
for Australia, India, Bangladesh
on combed squares of lawn
outside the Halls,
through the sudden chases and calls
we pass unseen,
it must be evening, it must be June




original

We look at the screen, the bed,
each other, heads turning
and bodies screwed up straight
upright and essential as sterile
milk that we push on its stand
through corridors
trailing tubes like shoelaces,
a foster mother already bad

striplighted days, alcohol rub,
trunctated words: meds and obs
we hold our breath
breathe out, then in
the metallic air of Ashfield St

by the extension of silver and blue
students shed scrubs, plastic aprons and gloves
and take up their places to play
for Australia, India, Bangladesh
around the combed square of lawn,
outside the Halls
through the sudden calls and runs
we pass unseen
it must be evening, it must be June
Last edited by calico on Fri Jun 04, 2010 11:55 am, edited 1 time in total.
David
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Thu Jun 03, 2010 9:04 pm

Ah Megan. I've been expecting you.

Welcome to the Experienced Area. This is where we are brutal to each other. Well, not really, but try this - I found the first stanza quite hard going, but I really liked the second and third. What if you just excised - surgically, of course - the offending stanza?

See what you think.

Cheers

David
ray miller
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Thu Jun 03, 2010 9:44 pm

I love the last verse "students shed scrubs, plastic aprons and gloves"and "the combed square of lawn" mmmm!
Not sure what's happening at the start but I didn't like "screwed up straight upright". Why not just "a bad foster mother"?
You've spelt truncated wrong.
You could just start at "through corridors", actually, now I think, it's a bit T.S.Eliot
I'm out of faith and in my cups
I contemplate such bitter stuff.
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J.R.Pearson
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Fri Jun 04, 2010 6:12 am

Cal, quite a good poem you have here! I have been perusing the Exp. forum here and so far (after a quick look) this is the only hyper-modern piece! So I am enthralled. It's compressed rather well. Has a good rhythm. Here area a few in line thoughts. No real nits. Pretty clean.



We look at the screen, the bed,
each other, heads turning
and bodies screwed up straight
upright and essential as sterile
milk that we push on its stand
through corridors
trailing tubes like shoelaces,
a foster mother already bad

-----Very clear & concise opening S. The most remarkable object here is the movement. We just fly right along with the whole poem. Moving in & out of the images. Not a nick of tell in the whole S. Pretty tight.


striplighted days, alcohol rub,-----Wanted this to be "strip-lighted" for movement & the "-" shows us the strip....
trunctated words: meds and obs----here you play on your own "trunctated" word with "striplighted " in the last line
we hold our breath
----this could be moved down a line to make us feel the holding...making us move down a half-second before we read "breath"......it would like we held our breath as it stands alone on its own line....just a thought...
breathe out, then in
the metallic air of Ashfield St
------I like "metallic air" as the image but feel like it needs to be fresher.....but it doesn't give me any pause...

by the extension of silver and blue
students shed scrubs, plastic aprons and gloves
and take up their places to play
for Australia, India, Bangladesh
around the combed square of lawn,
------this could be compressed into: around combed squares of lawn....
outside the Halls
through the sudden calls and runs
we pass unseen
it must be evening, it must be June
----killer last lines! Leaves us with the feeling of time passing without us knowing!

Enjoyed!

Best,
JR
Beyond the blind protozoan maestro & his wand--Ed Pavlic

http://rp-author.com/BurningGorgeous/

http://www.afterliterature.org/
calico
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Fri Jun 04, 2010 8:33 am

Thanks all, so much. I'm working on a revision, trying to explain this milk-stand thing in S1- the problem is I don't know what it's called - but it is very anthropomorphic. Consensus seems to be that S1 not adding up. JR Pearson, thanks, hyper-modern, great! It's interesting what you say about movement - the turning of heads on shoulders and wheeling of the stand-thing was what I was trying to capture.
paisley
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Fri Jun 04, 2010 10:45 am

Calico,
This brought me back immediately to a time spent in hospital, the images are very clear and the smell was in the air! Good stuff. The ending on the lawn, was delightful. I enjoyed it very much. It has made a lasting impact on me, the memories and then the hope in the sense of play. Thank you.
"A bit of stubble always remains to fuel the fire." Greta Garbo
David
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Fri Jun 04, 2010 7:38 pm

J.R.Pearson wrote:Cal, quite a good poem you have here! I have been perusing the Exp. forum here and so far (after a quick look) this is the only hyper-modern piece!
What is this hyper-modern poetry of which you speak, JR? Are there samples available?
ray miller
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Fri Jun 04, 2010 8:06 pm

There are samples, but they're going fast. So be quick!
All in all, I prefer the original.
One of the best lines was "through the sudden calls and runs" you really shouldn't lose that.
I'm out of faith and in my cups
I contemplate such bitter stuff.
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twoleftfeet
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Sun Jun 06, 2010 9:41 pm

ray miller wrote: One of the best lines was "through the sudden calls and runs" you really shouldn't lose that.
I'd agree with that.
I think you could get away with "strip-lit days".
All in all, mainly due to
trailing tubes like an elephant mother;
- I prefer the revision.
Instead of just sitting on the fence - why not stand in the middle of the road?
clarabow
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Wed Jun 09, 2010 11:35 am

Calico,

You have already had a lot of feed back so won't repeat, but this line did make me wonder especially as you have a London Hosp, and this seemed slightly exotic -
trailing tubes like an elephant mother;

the imagery that this conjured up to me would be expectant or milking cows and wonder if that would work better for the poem? Your call as always.
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