No probs Christina.

I had a few reasons for writing it. One was simply that it was there and so
I could try to capture a few observations. Another is to do with practicing
writing visual things - variants on making word pictures. It can get a bit
literal, though, in which case what is the point, I agree. I suppose I
wanted to tell the landscape in such a way that a person knowing the
particular piece of ground I was talking about might recognise it - write
them into my shoes so to speak.

Sometimes it woirks better than others. C'est la soitgoes, no?

Cheers, and thanks for comemnting.

Frank



>This is a curious poem that I find very difficult to comment on, Frank.
>I'm
>almost tempted to ask why you want to write a poem about a something that
>comes across as so visual (even if it is called it 'picture window').  I'm
>not keen on the first line.  It doesn't draw me into the poem.  There seems
>to be an emotional distance in the poem that makes me wonder whether I'm
>missing the point.  I dunno, I usually find a lot in your work and that
>encourages me to re-read but I'm not there yet.
>Sorry to be so negative.  I know you won't mind since you know I'm usually
>very enthusiastic about your work.
>bw
>christina
>
>
> >
> > ~~~~~~~~~~
> > picture window
> > ~~~~~~~~~~
> > the oversized glass is noticeable
> > eye-catching in its own right
> > taller than a man standing
> > almost as wide as the room
> > boundaries marked by the thick
> > full-height timber of adjoining sashes
> > one each side of the main window
> >
> > the outlook presents in squared format
> > as through the view-finder of my instamatic
> >
> > this morning the sun
> > only part-emerged
> > from behind remnants of rain and cloud
> > adds lustre to the green grasses
> > of the eastern aspect
> > a serene expanse in the centre
> > of this postcode Malvern
> > the heart of suburbia
> > bordered by highway and shopping town
> > franchise fast-food and higher education
> > as far from the lapping waters of my Bay
> > as I am able to imagine
> > and yet a small compensation
> >
> > in the foreground
> > advantaged by
> > morning light from above
> > parkland beyond
> > the slender sheoak
> > a stoop of dangled soft-needle leaves
> > coloured wet and dark against the peeping sun
> > holds a tremble of diamond at each tip
> > a bright one hundred
> > that glisten like light played over a treasure chest
> > framed in the living-picture window
> > of number thirty-eight
> >
>
>




The Tales of Faust poetry page can be found at:
http://www.hotkey.net.au/~flp/F_index.htm


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