Thanks for reading and commenting James.
Sorry for the apparent paucity of poetry, perhaps the poetry is in the
paucity, perhaps it is in the perhapcity or perhaps not. Happy New Year,
Arthur
----- Original Message -----
From: "James Bell" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Thursday, January 02, 2003 4:22 PM
Subject: Re: New Sub: A Visit with Sonny in Ward 3.
A harrowing tale Arthur. At present I can't find poetry in it except for
where the lines end short of the page.I wonder too if it needs to be in your
voice rather than Sonny's as you are making the visit. In the first person
of Sonny it doesn't ring true enough for me. I think this is a rare case of
too much show and not enough tell. Perhaps then the poetry that was
triggered by your visit will then emerge. Hope this helps in its rather
oblique way.
bw
James
>From: arthur seeley <[log in to unmask]>
>Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
>To: [log in to unmask]
>Subject: New Sub: A Visit with Sonny in Ward 3.
>Date: Mon, 30 Dec 2002 12:06:35 -0000
>
>A Visit with Sonny in Ward 3.
>
>
>
>The river was cold as death in November '56
>
>when I piled my clothes on my neck,
>
>slid naked through the reeds
>
>and swam into Austria.
>
>We had fought their tanks with bottles of petrol,
>
>that is no myth, but many of us died for our impudence.
>
>They smeared my brother against a wall
>
>as he screamed at me, " Go!"
>
>
>
>You do not really want to know
>
>how we waited and waited for days.
>
>We fought tanks with bottles and waited
>
>for you to come to us but you never came.
>
>In the end some of us died screaming, some went home,
>
>some of us came to you;
>
>slid through reeds and swam a river
>
>that plucked the breath from us.
>
>
>
>I stood on the far bank and shivered
>
>as I watched the river curve on
>
>through the stubbled fields and low farms
>
>on towards the smeared walls and clatter of tanks.
>
>I was seventeen when I came to England with no language except,
>
>a job please and how much is a loaf of bread
>
>but I could live now with no bundle on my back
>
>and walk without looking behind.
>
>
>
>I have been home three times since
>
>to see my sisters and give them money.
>
>The river still swirls brown under the Margit Hid
>
>but the smeared walls of the city
>
>are whitewashed now.
>
>Do you think they will put all this
>
>on my gravestone, Arthur?
>
>or just my name and some dates?
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