Spring Cleaning

[ElleW]

Today the sea wind blows, a cooling
change after our recent heatwave,
and I awaken to the ching of wind

chimes outside my patio door.
Later I’ll find debris from nearby
streets – leaves, candy wrappers,

chip bags, newspapers, curls
of styrofoam from a sloppy
neighbor – piled against my front

door like a suburban snowdrift.
I’d love to build a huge bonfire,
watch leaves smoke, paper flash,

plastic puddle. I even have some
things here inside that I could add
to the bright blaze: this small twig

can go – residue of a love turned
to indifference; these shards might
melt – I’ve sliced my foot on their

anger often enough. I’ll dig up jars
of dried tears and the brittle snake
skins of remembrance from the garden.

False words, stinging insults, lost loves,
childhood horrors: those festering
mementos we all collect and hoard

would be the perfect things to gather
up and burn. When the wind dies
down, I think I’ll start spring cleaning.

[ccvulture]

Love it. Absolutely. I think it's near-faultless. Perhaps one image too many in the catalogues which dot the poem?

It's got polish, so I guess it's been through the revision mangle a few times already. No need for me too push it in a different direction. This feels so much more of a poem and less of a conceit than your recent other postings.

Cheers

Stuart

[David]

Yes, very good, a lovely catalogue. My only suggestion might be - I'm not sure about this - that it becomes overly didactic at the end. You draw too obvious a moral, maybe? Or it may just be these lines:

those festering
mementos we all collect and hoard

Can you lose some of the sense of a vicar (or a psychoanalyst) summing up a sermon (or a case-study)?

I know I'm guilty of doing the same sort of thing myself sometimes, so I'm not throwing the first stone, but still ... this mote is in your eye. What beam?

Good one, Elle.

Cheers

David

[TDF]

I found a turn of phrase, an image, or a string of words which I liked in every 3 here. Very pleasing and easy to read.
I like that it is nothing clever, it is straightforward, yet avoids all the cliches I would probably end up using! The second to last stanza is perhaps the closest you come to such a thing. But I like the phrasing of it so much I don't care about the cliche. And besides, as I'm sure my poetry shops, I like a cliche!

my fave little snips:

the ching of wind

a suburban snowdrift.

residue of a love turned
to indifference

I’ll dig up jars
of dried tears and the brittle snake
skins


kudos,
Tom

[songbird]

Hi Elle,

An enticing poem, which hooked me in from the first word - that deceptively simple 'today'. After the heatwave made me wonder which country this was set in, then all those scraps of English street 'life' began to pile up and I could almost picture the location. The line breaks were also an effective way to render the ordinary 'strange'.

The spring cleaning metaphor felt both classic and fresh. You handle the transition from physical to mental debris gracefully, so that I wonder if you need to say I even have some things..?

Agree with everyone else that there are some great images here - especially[/i] jars of dried tears[/i] - wonderful!

Thanks for sharing

Songbird

[barrie]

Your best one to date. As I began reading it my intial thoughts were that it was nothing special, but the interest factor increases with a geometric progression - the last few verses were most impressive.

........I’ll dig up jars
of dried tears and the brittle snake
skins of remembrance from the garden.

False words, stinging insults, lost loves,
childhood horrors: those festering
mementos we all collect and hoard

Excellent

Barrie

[camus]

Yes, plaudits.

Simple language, subtle metaphors, nice triplet/tercet structure.

well played.

[emuse]

Elle this is quite lovely. I'm with you on the spring cleaning metaphorically and figuratively too. I once heard a wonderful storyteller speak of a man who grew to a giant's size with every load of the physical universe he unburned. These were more material connections, his package of memories and so gained inner space by letting go. That's what your poem made me think of. I especially love the debris piled against the door as snowdrift. That really set the tone of an urban scene. I have just a couple of small comments.

Today the sea wind blows, [a cooling
change after our recent heatwave],
and I awaken to the ching of wind

chimes outside my patio door.

I find that line while interesting, too prosaic in the context of a poem. I don't think we need a sort of weather report which for me detracts from the movement of the wind and the chimes.

Later I’ll find debris from nearby
streets – leaves, candy wrappers,

chip bags, newspapers, curls
of styrofoam from a sloppy
neighbor – piled against my front

door like a suburban snowdrift. (love this!)
I’d love to build a huge bonfire,
watch leaves smoke, paper flash,

plastic puddle. I [even] have some
things [here] inside that I could add
to the bright blaze: this small twig

[can go] – residue of a love turned
to indifference; these shards might
melt – I’ve sliced my foot on their

anger often enough. I’ll dig up jars
of dried tears and the brittle snake
skins of remembrance from the garden.

(Not sure about snake skins of remembrance. I love the idea of snake skins but I think you could connect them to a more tangible emotion IMO.)

False words, stinging insults, lost loves,
childhood horrors: those [festering]
mementos we all collect and hoard

would be the perfect things to gather
up and burn. When the wind dies
down, I think I’ll start spring cleaning.

Hope anything helpful to you!

e

[Elphin]

Elle

I'll second whoever said this is your best to date. Well done - great images, structure and so on.

My only nit is I would consider dropping the penultimate stanza - personally I would rather as a reader form my own view as to what created the jar of tears and snake skins of remembrance than have them listed. You could then start the final stanza as These would....

Well done

Elphin

[ElleW]

Thanks to each of you for your comments. I haven't made any serious revisions to this poem yet for fear of only making it worse (I have a lot of self doubt about revising). I posted the poem mainly because I was unsure about the structure. I think I often use couplets or tercets to control emotion in my poetry and I sometimes think the structure might be at odds with the content. At this point I think I'll stick with the tercets for this poem. I really felt a consensus about paring down here and there and your specific suggestions were very helpful.

I need to let this one sit for a short bit and then I'll revise and repost a new version of it.

Thanks for such detailed critiques. I really appreciate the whys and wherefores very much.

Cheers,
Elle