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An echo of Terry Pratchett in the delivery.it’s a night for big questions
if only we could think of some
Some readers read the end of a line as if the 'pause' is a full-stop. The syntax, rhythm and enjambment in this poem is a reminder that such a reading technique is flawed.The alliteration in line one of this sonnet immediately captured my attention, and happily the rest of the poem does not disappoint: sonics, meter, and metaphor draw the reader in before letting go in the last line.
The poem is on page 19.That line from Eliot has always stuck in mind.Distracted from distraction by distraction
These lines are from a sonnet by Richard Levine called Sheltered in Place:you understand the urge to pluck
the exotic, the beautiful—any diversion
from fear, which is in itself a disease.
The lines above are from a poem by Arundhathi Subramaniam called When Landscape Becomes Woman. Reminds me of the comment - that could be a poem in itself. I wonder if the poem grew from those lines. Either way, the perspective is proven in this childhood defining moment...And that’s how I discovered
that keyholes always reveal more
than doorways.
A strategy to dull, as the poem perfectly defines, Henry VIII, with pinup tastes.Christina sat for the portrait for three hours wearing mourning dress. Her rooms in Brussels were hung with black velvet, black damask and a black cloth-of-estate. Christina, then only sixteen years old, made no secret of her opposition to marrying the English king, who by this time had a reputation around Europe for his mistreatment of wives. She supposedly said, "If I had two heads, one should be at the King of England's disposal."
I don't like the concluding line, even if meant ironically, the tone is intrusive. Opinions will differ, that's poetry, a simple truth, but worth remembering when being offered workshop advice (especially given with the assertive voiceThis sonnet’s extended metaphor is perfectly supported by its clear imagery and excellent closing line.
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Reminded me of the time I took my son to visit Stonehenge. The connection with the stones was such that I ceased to be an 'intrusive' tourist. I like the poet's awareness, intimation of humility in that final line.when the isle seemed authentic –
despite our presence.
Sometimes I feel education seeks to rip out those roots, correct the syntax/grammar, measure expression to an educated standard.with terrible roots which grip to the ground
Nice simile. I sort of like this poem. It has a progression to meaning, and that progression is processed through doing, connections to the past are made concrete in the actions. What nags me, a little, is the fiction, because that is what the narrative feels like to me. Really, it shouldn't devalue the poem, especially since I write fiction all the time.It was a ritual, like cleaning windows:
remembering the dead.
