Philip,
I have not read much historical poetry and have written less. So maybe I'm
not the best person to comment. I've read it a few times and I have an
impression of that storm in my mind. So the poem works. The title is "Before
The Storm" . Does that mean that what goes on in the poem is just a prequel
to the main event? However the preceding explanation, which I needed and
liked suggests that the storm occurs during the poem.
The poem changes tense once or twice, but I don't mind that. It is not
confusing as a result.
The following is slightly enigmatic. "My grandfather sits and cannot absorb"
. Presumably the unwritten continuation of that sentence is " ....cannot
absorb what is going on." Normally that wouldn't matter. However all the
talk of water before hand prepares my mind for watery metaphors and ways of
thinking. So each time I read it I am momentarily sucked into imaging the
possible absorption of water.
Also I have difficulty imaging the demise of the horse. The kale wagon
swings and sinks, taking the people and dogs with it, but the horse seems to
survive that part as it breaks its traces and rears. It could have swum for
a while. Don't want to sound morbid, but I am left wondering what happened
next.
Colin
> -----Original Message-----
> From: Philip Burton [SMTP:[log in to unmask]]
> Sent: Friday, December 20, 2002 7:17 PM
> To: [log in to unmask]
> Subject: new submission: Before the Storm
>
> Before The Storm
>
>
> a perfectly ordinary August 1588 storm sank a Spanish Armada whose
> seafarers
> were unversed in the rough ways of the North Atlantic. The same
> equinoctial
> tempest swept away all last traces of the Lancashire village of Singleton.
>
> The Nereids wept at Queen Mary's death
> and the Rossall coast was weal
> but they shook their spurs at Elizabeth
> and saltmarsh took the field.
> No more
> the springing spikes of barley, rye, and oat.
> Neptune wets the wattle, sucks the daub -
> our cottage swims like a breached boat.
> My grandfather sits and cannot absorb.
>
> Only Penny Stone Inn near Carlon -
> the dozing megalith, her Colts Ring
> and the hollow-eyed oaks of Singleton
> stand proud.
> I saw a kale wagon swing
> like a galleass, sink under the mere,
> drown father and son, and dogs beside.
> And the good horse, breaking traces, reared
> like a basking hippocampus, died.
>
>
>
>
>
>
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