on 27/1/02 5:31 pm, Arthur at [log in to unmask] wrote:
Arthur, why don't yu call it Receiving bad news in Africa? A title can often
elucidate a poem and make much more sense of it to readers.
Sally-ee
> Actually I was doing VSO in the Solomon Islands, halfway around the world
> when I received a message deep in the bush that my mother had had three
> massive strokes. I made the journey home in 4 days. The crowd were locals
> who mourned with great howling shouts. I was more subdued and they came to
> see how I would mourn. Stiff upper lip and all that.
> ----- Original Message -----
> From: "cara may" <[log in to unmask]>
> To: <[log in to unmask]>
> Sent: Sunday, January 27, 2002 5:16 PM
> Subject: Re: New sub: The turning
>
>
>> Arthur, I think this is a soldier whose
>> officers/colleagues have arranged his compassionate
>> leave. You could try the historic present tense. You
>> would then have to say
>> 'I lay my book aside' but this more active form may be
>> preferable. I find a lovely economy in the phrasing
>> for the most part. (I think you could do without the
>> last two lines). The image of the folding of the
>> sheets from the line is brilliant since it seems to
>> make a connection with the work of the mother back
>> home (I know today it would be sexist to suggest this
>> but I presume we are dealing with an earlier time).
>> How about 'chased over grass'?
>>
>> cheers, cara
>>
>> --- Arthur <[log in to unmask]> wrote: >
>>> Above the low murmur, my name,
>>>
>>> beyond the thin curtains.
>>>
>>> My book laid aside,
>>>
>>> I went out into the glare
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> of their scrutiny. They stood
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> gathered under trees
>>>
>>> where light through leaves
>>>
>>> chased over the grass
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> and drifts of kapok blew.
>>>
>>> They waited as I read the message.
>>>
>>> My mother, somewhere, at home,
>>>
>>> home , somewhere, my mother was dying.
>>>
>>>
>>> Staring, they watched
>>>
>>> as I folded the paper neat as a
>>>
>>> bed-sheet fresh from the line
>>>
>>> and tucked it into the breast pocket
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> of my chilled, soaked shirt.
>>>
>>> I turned to find my long road
>>>
>>> as waves lapped the jetty
>>>
>>> stirred by a wind from the west.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> In silence I turned my back upon them,
>>>
>>> my face toward home.
>>>
>>
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