Thanks a lot for this, Bob. In trying to capture the silence, I finally hit
on the twig springing analogy, which I'd like to keep.
Maybe there are two poems, the primitive one I began with and the more
'sophisiticated' subsequent poem. I'll bear all this in mind as I have deep
divisions in the kinds of poem I am writing, at least two kinds
simultaneously I think. Perhaps four, if you count formal longer poems and
the haiku I'm just beginning to learn.

I think we were pausing in our walk, we weren't in a hurry.

bw and thanks
Sally sally sally sally


on 13/6/02 9:05 pm, Bob Cooper at [log in to unmask] wrote:

> Hi Sally,
> 
> You've worked at this poem a lot. Perhaps I'm going to end up by writing a
> lot... It feels so different.
> 
> I’m not so sure, now, about the last stanza. It’s as if you’ve filled in too
> many gaps, said too much about the silence and not left enough for me to
> hear it for myself. I mean I, myself, liked the way the silence appeared
> after each successive drum-drum-drum line in the first version – because of
> the contrast between the drum-drum-drum line and the other spaced out
> “silence” line I could hear it! (If you can hear silence!). Repetition’s a
> powerful device, when used powerfully (and, in the first version, I felt its
> power).
> 
> I also liked the repetition of the successive noise-then-silence episodes
> which inferred that you both were still walking (which impresses me more
> than silence being mentioned just the once – I mean, just one word in the
> phrase, “silence ever deeper” and then being ‘explained’ alongside its
> significance at the end of the poem!).
> 
> The last stanza now seems to imply you stopped (and, because of the last
> sentiment you express, that you’re still there musing instead of – as I felt
> with the first version - taking the insights of the noise-then-silence with
> you – the Bewick reference seems to imply movement as well). More
> technically I guess I’m also thinking the last phrase of the poem sounds
> very John Clare-ish, but when he made such statements I don’t think he was
> in the poems he wrote about birds, (and often about their nests) I seem to
> remember he was invisible. In the initial version of your poem I didn’t find
> such a rememberence of Clare.
> 
> Now the silence you mention has merely become, as you say it, “gaps between
> your sound” (not 'your' sound - the woodpecker’s sound). Perhaps I still
> want to discover the profound seclusion you mention for myself, not be so
> clearly informed that it’s there. It's as if in giving me more you've given
> me less...
> 
> And, like Gary, I prefer the simpler phrasing of “you and I” to “my
> companion and I.”
> 
> And, again in the last stanza, do woodpeckers do their pecking from
> branches? I sort of thought they clung to the trunk of trees? I don’t know.
> I also didn’t know they were called Yaffles in your neck of the woods.
> 
> And the question: “Don’t you ever bother singing?” worries me a little too.
> OK, I know you're wanting me to smile, but my smile is quickly turning to a
> mild kind of frown... I’m worried cos I think I don’t know the answer! And
> I’m distracted cos I think the answer might matter to the poem! And I’m
> starting to focus more on the answers to the question than on anything else
> that follows it in the poem. (Rhetorical questions can be wonderful devices
> to use but I'm worried about the timing of this one, and it's place in a
> poem that's now more meditative than lively...)
> 
> Wow, is there no end to this guy's comments? Worry not, only one more...
> 
> I liked the drama of the start of the first one too! Someone once declared
> "A poem is drama or it is nothing!" and that's what it was! The first line
> offered no explanation! It went straight in: "drum drum drum etc!" But the
> phrase "muffled yaffle through the silence" seems more explanatory, less
> confident. It's got its own mouth music (muffle & yaffle) which is clever -
> but I remember, too, discovering that Pushkin once advocated that a poem
> ought to begin like a play that's half-way into its first scene. I sense,
> however, your slower start to what your now doing fits in with the
> reflective nature of the last stanza so I sense it holds its integrity in
> this version of the poem. I guess you're now wanting the poem to do other
> things than those I felt it was doing in the initial version. If you are
> then I guess I'm merely highlighting how successful you've been.
> 
> Bob
> 
> 
> 
>> From: Sally Evans <[log in to unmask]>
>> Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
>> To: [log in to unmask]
>> Subject: woodpecker revised
>> Date: Wed, 12 Jun 2002 00:28:04 +0100
>> 
>> Woodpecker  (revised)
>> 
>> muffled yaffle through the silence
>> drumdrumdrumdrumdrum
>> 
>> tall close trees mottled with lichen
>> in the cleanest air,
>> dry, cool evening, pale white sky
>> quiet road with none
>> but my companion and I
>> passing by
>> 
>> drumdrumdrumdrumdrum again
>> - silence ever deeper -
>> 
>> we look upward, crane our necks
>> you are safely hidden
>> Bewick said your young will run
>> up and down trunks before they fly
>> but no such sight for us
>> not in front of us do you
>> 
>> drumdrumdrumdrumdrumdrumdrum
>> drumdrumdrumdrumdrum.
>> 
>> Don't you ever bother singing?
>> Need you, with the small wood ringing
>> drumdrumdrumdrumdrum
>> 
>> Silence springs back into place
>> like a branch you flew away from.
>> In the gaps between your sound
>> we hear profound seclusion
>> in your haunt.
>> 
>> 
>> Sally Evans
> 
> 
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