hi bob,
thanks for the thorough read and your observations.
re: the moon - it used to be "a lump of amber / clouded with fossilised
heartaches, splintered / bones of grief" which i then contracted, although i
am still not entirely happy with these couple of lines; i am quite fond of
the idea of "fossilised heartaches" though, but i know that sometimes one
has to kill one's darlings. :)
i know that many think of the moon as yawning, so that is too cliché. i
obviously thought of yawning stars, their flickering being their yawning in
the face of the chimneys' tales; it might not work for everybody though.
and the title ... you are right, it is almost too ordinary for the poem.
maybe something more suitable will still come up.
thanks again,
michi
Hi Michi,
This is a powerful poem, it's measured and controlled. It sort of progresses
with a gradual revealing of loss expressed in ways I don't expect (until I
get to the moon-rise in stanza 4, and I sort of sense "amber" "fossilised
heartaches" and "splintered bones of grief" are too much for the moon to
moon over. It's as if you're no longer trusting description and you're now
telling things that can be shown (are being shown?) in the rest of the poem.
I want the moon to do what everything else does in the poem - no more! I
think it can do that!
I think the rest of the poem is more subtle.
I also wonder (myself) about stars yawning... I've never thought of a star
yawning (the full moon always looks as if it's yawning and dead tired when
it rises near here... but not the stars).
I think I'd also be searching for a title that is less "ordinary" - a title
that feels as powerful as the poem.
But it's a classy powerful poem! I'm just thinking how it can get more
distinct,even classier.
Bob
>From: "michaela a. gabriel" <[log in to unmask]>
>Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
>To: [log in to unmask]
>Subject: new sub: Autumn Blues
>Date: Sun, 27 Oct 2002 09:52:45 +0100
>
>i have been wrestling with my disobedient muse (or am i the disobedient
>one? *G*) ... maybe you and your muse have any suggestions? cheers, michi
>
>
>Autumn Blues
>
>Midnight, and the hands of my clock
>edge deeper into the shadows.
>Sometimes rain breaks their soliloquy,
>but not tonight. Branches stiffen
>in dry cold, grass blades shiver.
>If only they knew your hands.
>
>They would no longer hope for
>resurrection, content to dream
>how your fingers squeeze
>poetry from each yellow leaf -
>crisp haiku, discarded syllables
>littering hedges like acorn seed.
>
>I keep them for the walk-on days
>of winter, nights between empty
>sheets and the impossibility of music.
>This is the dress rehearsal;
>silence follows the slow death
>of a livid next-door saxophone,
>chimneys sweat, plaguing the sky
>with insipid tales. Stars yawn
>and flicker out, wind curls up
>
>in drained swimming pools
>that pockmark suburbs like blind
>eyes, the moon's summertime mirrors.
>She rises regardless, a lump of amber -
>fossilised heartaches, splintered
>bones of grief; yet she resembles you.
>
>But I have learned to trace
>your features in every chestnut's
>clouded face, taught the wind chime
>your voice. This book in my lap
>can't be someone else's story,
>when I find among its pages
>a word I had not known before you.
>
>
>mag2002
>
>
>
>------ ----- ----- -----
>michi ~~~ http://www.geocities.com/lillith1971
>
>Good sex is like good bridge.
>If you don't have a good partner,
>you'd better have a good hand. - Mae West
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