Mike,
I'm not the most discerning reader, I have to confess and often if it
doesn't hit me in the face, it might as well not have happened LOL. If you
had another look and it seems like it is as it should be, then that is the
way to go.
Cheers,
Frank
The Tales of Faust poetry page can be found at:
http://www.tales-of-faust.com/
>
>Hello Frank,
> Thanks for your feedback. Most people seem to have found the
>opening a bit turgid and I need to look at it. Your point about the creator
>image not being maintained through the poem may be the result of a
>divergence between my reading and yours. For me the landscape that is
>described, and the fact that there is any grass here at all is the result
>of the work of the man ( it could be men, it wouldn´t have been women in
>the time and place I´m imagining, but these are local details and really
>irrelevant) who drained the bog and created fields suitable for
>agriculture. That early farmer is the creator and his work was an Act of
>creation. This is how I saw it when I composed the poem, but perhaps this
>has not come through, I don´t know. Oh well.
>
>
>Best wishes, Mike
>
>
>
>
>--- Alkuperäinen viesti ---
>Hi Mike,
>
>I thought this piece was weakened, or distracted by the opening reference
>to
>a 'creator'. The piece doesn't really hark back to that opening concept,
>apart for some attribution to suggest this is why it is as it is, and it
>isn't really enough for me. I think it either needs to be a creator poem or
>glory in the way things come to be poem, but not jjust a bit of both? I
>might be on the wrong tram, though. Please forgive, if so.
>
>Cheers,
>
>Frank.
>
>
>The Tales of Faust poetry page can be found at:
>http://www.tales-of-faust.com/
>
>
> >Act
> >
> >A creator works according to a design.
> >Closing the gap between what what is and what is to be,
> >matter must be fashioned to fit the spirit´s image.
> >So boulders are moved, a stream deepened,
> >the marsh drained and cleared of tangled stems.
> >
> >Look now across this bowl of land
> >at the edge of a lake
> >to where a farmhouse sits on a rise
> >with a line of birch trees beyond.
> >Look at this grass, darkest in the hollow.
> >
> >Grass, so dense, so thick and spongy
> >it doesn´t seem real,
> >seems to preclude the possibility of roots,
> >an underworld of dark mud and dampness
> >and genesis in the bottomless brown of bog water.
> >
> >Grass that belongs to limpid air
> >and yellow light and the memory of rain.
> >Grass that speaks only of coverings,
> >and those man-made. Grass that speaks
> >only of surfaces, and those unreal.
> >
> >
> >
> >
> >Mike
>
>
>_________________________________________________________________
>Hotmail now available on Australian mobile phones. Go to
>http://ninemsn.com.au/mobilecentral/hotmail_mobile.asp
>
>
>
_________________________________________________________________
Hotmail now available on Australian mobile phones. Go to
http://ninemsn.com.au/mobilecentral/hotmail_mobile.asp
|