Old Bricks

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ton321
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Sat Nov 19, 2016 3:20 am

revision 2

Old Bricks

I want to crack them open
and read the rough braille,
of circumference and circumstance,
like the rings of years in a tree,
and trace a line back to their hearts
thats still warm to the touch-
that still hurts.

revision 1


There's nothing more sad than a pile of bricks
that no-one has use for- each one, hard edged,
with its own mortar-stubble, and a story to tell.

I want to crack them open
and read the rough braille
of circumference and circumstance,
like the rings of years in a tree,
and trace a line back to its heart
thats still warm to the touch-
that still hurts.


Original

Cut clay, stamped, sealed,
hardened in fire-
cast in the mould.

Packed, boxed
your inner heart
still glows-

a square peg in a round hole.
Last edited by ton321 on Sun Nov 27, 2016 3:37 am, edited 16 times in total.
Counting the beats,
Counting the slow heart beats,
The bleeding to death of time in slow heart beats,
Wakeful they lie.

Robert Graves
Lou
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Sat Nov 19, 2016 7:51 am

I very much liked the first two stanzas but expectations were cruelly swept aside by the crashing cliche at the close. Did you mean to promote this reaction?

Best,
Lou
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Sat Nov 19, 2016 8:13 am

Lou wrote:I very much liked the first two stanzas but expectations were cruelly swept aside by the crashing cliche at the close. Did you mean to promote this reaction?

Best,
Lou
echo that thought

best

mac
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Firebird
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Sat Nov 19, 2016 8:22 am

And I echo Mac. It's a good poem with a weak last line.

Cheers,

Tristan
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Sat Nov 19, 2016 11:39 am

It's a riddle. I'm not getting it at the moment. Looking forward to the reveal.

Cheers

David
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Thu Nov 24, 2016 11:28 am

Liked the staccato run of monosyllables, and the li alliteration, and the general hardness of the sounds. I saw this (no doubt mistakenly) as a metaphor for a hard life, character refined in the fire and all that. Like David I look forward to the reveal.
Regards, c
ton321
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Sat Nov 26, 2016 2:15 am

Thanks for the replies

the last line was a cop out, i agree.
Cheers Tony.
Counting the beats,
Counting the slow heart beats,
The bleeding to death of time in slow heart beats,
Wakeful they lie.

Robert Graves
ray miller
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Sat Nov 26, 2016 10:47 am

I wonder if you need the first 3 lines. Title should be Bricks, I think.

I want to crack them open....

and trace a line back to its heart

I think you need I want to crack each one open or maybe you should use their hearts.
I'm out of faith and in my cups
I contemplate such bitter stuff.
ton321
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Sat Nov 26, 2016 5:23 pm

Hi Ray, Thanks for the suggestions. Just wanted to set the background with the first three lines. Now you've mentioned this omission I'm not so sure,
Cheers Tony.
Counting the beats,
Counting the slow heart beats,
The bleeding to death of time in slow heart beats,
Wakeful they lie.

Robert Graves
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Sat Nov 26, 2016 5:47 pm

I like the revision - intruiging. I'd agree it's better without the first three lines, and I'm not quite sure why the heart of a brick should hurt. But that's the interesting mystery.

Ros
Rosencrantz: What are you playing at? Guildenstern: Words. Words. They're all we have to go on.
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Antcliff
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Sat Nov 26, 2016 5:53 pm

Hi!

Yes, I liked the revision too.

My only thought is over whether "hard edged" is needed? Readers will assume that of a brick?

Seth
We fray into the future, rarely wrought
Save in the tapestries of afterthought.
Richard Wilbur
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TonyMac
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Sat Nov 26, 2016 10:57 pm

I like the idea of tracing back in time - rather like family research.
The revision works well for me. I would only suggest you need an apostrophe in the penultimate line.
ton321 wrote:revision 1

There's nothing more sad than a pile of bricks
that no-one has use for- each one, hard edged,
with its own mortar-stubble, and a story to tell.

I want to crack them open
and read the rough braille
of circumference and circumstance,
like the rings of years in a tree,
and trace a line back to its heart
thats still warm to the touch-
that still hurts.


Original

Cut clay, stamped, sealed,
hardened in fire-
cast in the mould.

Packed, boxed
your inner heart
still glows-

a square peg in a round hole.
All that I had I brought,
Little enough I know;
A poor rhyme roughly wrought,
A rose to match thy snow:
All that I had I brought.
(Ernest Dowson 1867 - 1900)
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JJWilliamson
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Sat Nov 26, 2016 11:42 pm

Hi, Tony

I liked this right up to 'tree', then struggled a bit.

A couple of observations for your perusal:
ton321 wrote:revision 1

There's nothing more sad than a pile of bricks
that no-one has use for- each one, hard edged,
with its own mortar-stubble, and a story to tell. ...Wasn't keen on stubble to describe the remnants of mortar that clings to old bricks. Seemed like an unusual image to me.

I want to crack them open
and read the rough braille ...Braille is for the blind. Maybe 'feel the rough braille'
of circumference and circumstance, ...I always think of 'circumference' as the line around a curved object.
like the rings of years in a tree, ...You'd need vision to read these tree rings. The braille is tripping me again.
and trace a line back to its heart
thats still warm to the touch-
that still hurts. ...These three lines feel quite sad with the aging bricks and their current condition. Time is a factor, I think, where the bricks could reveal their secrets if we only knew where to look and how to read the signs. Would "runes" work instead of 'braille'?

The title should be the plural 'Bricks' or change 'them' to 'it'. Minor point.

A tweak here and there is all that's needed.

I enjoyed thinking about this poem and liked what I found.

Best

JJ


Original

Cut clay, stamped, sealed,
hardened in fire-
cast in the mould.

Packed, boxed
your inner heart
still glows-

a square peg in a round hole.
Long time a child and still a child
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bodkin
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Wed Nov 30, 2016 10:22 am

ton321 wrote:revision 2

Old Bricks

I want to crack them open
and read the rough braille, Capital "B" in "Braille" because it was the guy's name...
of circumference and circumstance, "circumference" reads a tiny bit oddly because more usually for a circular object... however I'm reading it as meaning the external surface of the brick, e.g. which shows the wear of years...
like the rings of years in a tree, Not working for me. Rings are very different, one added in each year where the wear on a brick is (a) removal and (b) all on the same surface...
and trace a line back to their hearts
thats still warm to the touch- "thats" needs an apostrophe, however now that "they" are plural it all needs to be "that are"...
that still hurts. Like Ros cannot quite interpret the pain of a brick's heart. I'm sort of thinking it harks back to the difficult lives of those who made, laid, or lived in them...
That's a fair few grumbles, but don't get the wrong idea, I am liking this quite a lot, I just think it needs to become crystal clear in order to say what it wants...

Promising and has already improved a lot...

Ian
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ton321
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Sat Dec 03, 2016 2:12 am

Hi , thanks for the replies, much appreciated,
Cheers Tony.
Counting the beats,
Counting the slow heart beats,
The bleeding to death of time in slow heart beats,
Wakeful they lie.

Robert Graves
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