At the back bedroom window,
the eldest watches as dad
ties a rope-swing to the elm.
She clocks the tree’s bone-white roots,
good footholds for the scramble up the slope,
and imagines the view again,
the way it stretches across the valley
into small tree-topped rumps of mountain.
The little ones giggle
and squabble next door,
jeans rolled-up
to trample shirts and socks
in a knee-deep bath of water —
like making wine, mum tells them.
Later, when the rain stops,
the children will swing to their highest points
- and jump.
Original
At the back bedroom window,
the girl watches as father
ties a rope-swing to the elm.
She notes the tree’s bone-white roots,
good footholds for the scramble up the slope,
and imagines the view again,
the way it stretches across a valley
into small tree-topped rumps of mountain.
The little ones giggle
and squabble next door,
jeans rolled-up
to trample shirts and socks
in a knee-deep bath of water —
like making wine, mother tells them.
Later, when the rain stops,
the children swing to their highest points
- and jump.
The old house dreams they are still there
Last edited by Mic on Mon Jul 06, 2015 12:00 pm, edited 3 times in total.
"Do not feel lonely, the entire universe is inside you" - Rumi
Cute scene and I buy into the maternal manipulation that keeps the kids occupied...making 'mischief' fun.The little ones giggle
and squabble next door,
jeans rolled-up
to trample shirts and socks
in a knee-deep bath of water -
like making wine, mother tells them.
all the best
mac
-
- Perspicacious Poster
- Posts: 7482
- Joined: Wed Apr 23, 2008 10:23 am
Nice poem, evocative, good line this
into small tree-topped rumps of mountain.
I prefer notes to clocks. Clocks, in this sense, brings to my mind wide boys, small-time hoodlums - but I had a chequered youth.
into small tree-topped rumps of mountain.
I prefer notes to clocks. Clocks, in this sense, brings to my mind wide boys, small-time hoodlums - but I had a chequered youth.
I'm out of faith and in my cups
I contemplate such bitter stuff.
I contemplate such bitter stuff.
-
- Perspicacious Poster
- Posts: 5375
- Joined: Tue Jul 22, 2008 7:35 am
- antispam: no
- Location: Japan
- Contact:
Well, I kinda like clocks. But maybe spots, or simply sees? Notes definitely feels wrong to me. Children don't note.
B.
B.
-
- Perspicacious Poster
- Posts: 2718
- Joined: Tue Aug 11, 2009 8:41 am
- antispam: no
- Location: Hertfordshire, UK
There's a 'fond-memory' feeling to it that I like, and the first half is particularly good. I'm agnostic on clocks, but can't help feeling that there's a more effective word, somewhere.
The title's a bit awkward, not to say clumsy, I'd say. Still, a nit - nice piece.
Cheers
peter
The title's a bit awkward, not to say clumsy, I'd say. Still, a nit - nice piece.
Cheers
peter
Agreed. Seems to be out of the wrong lexicon for the poem. Which I really like. (But I agree with Brian about notes as well.)ray miller wrote:Clocks, in this sense, brings to my mind wide boys, small-time hoodlums
I like the title! It's cumbersome, but comfortable.
Jumping again, eh? The jump seems to be an important part of your personal metaphysics, Michaela. That seems perfectly sound to me. Something to do with memory, experience, life itself ... what did I leave out?
Cheers
David
-
- Posts: 33
- Joined: Mon Jun 01, 2015 2:58 pm
enjoyed this a lot
painting pretty pictures of the sorts of things i used to do as a kiddie
well penned and well thought out
donna
painting pretty pictures of the sorts of things i used to do as a kiddie
well penned and well thought out
donna