Hi Mike,
I’m intrigued by this poem – how you’re working the metaphor, the stream,
with the feeling, desire. But I feel it’s sort of too weak in how it’s
working. For instance could you get the reader closer to the stream? Instead
of starting with a statement “Their desire flowed like…” hit us with the
image: the stream! Then, when we can see that, it might be possible to
reveal the poem’s “other” agenda, their desire.
There’s also bits where the poet intervenes in the action instead of
describing what’s going on.
“There was no battle, no tears, yet she was hurt.” is a case in point. And
the last 2 stanzas are from the same withdrawn point of view – where there’s
no desire in them! (Maybe because the stream doesn’t figure in the poem
anymore!).
But it’s got me thinking… things like what other links can I make between
desire and water that can keep the poem flowing. (I’m thinking of Narcissus,
of how he fell in love with – ie how he desired – his own image in the water
and wondering if that could be a useful extension to how the poem is
positioning the guy by the stream… but there’s probably lots of other
stories, images, allusions, that could be shadowed too!). In our chatter
here the image has been called a cliché… and it could be seen as that –
unless you possess it a bit more and work it. Cos I think a cliché is a
world-weary, almost worn out, kind of truth – and a bit more freshness can
still be found…
Bob
>From: Mike Horwood <[log in to unmask]>
>Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
>To: [log in to unmask]
>Subject: new sub: Desire
>Date: Wed, 7 May 2003 10:04:55 +0300
>
>Desire
>
>Their desire flowed like a stream;
>here the surface rippled and splashed,
>refracting sunlight,
>there it ran smooth and deep.
>In places it ran underground
>as an underground spring might feed a well
>or chill the air with a dampness like fear.
>
>He stood on the bankside,
>dipped bare feet in the flow
>but slaked his thirst from furtive buckets.
>There was no battle, no tears, yet she was hurt.
>She spoke Janus words, turning in the doorway
>like a stream turned from its course,
>and observed him, puzzled, dowsing.
>
>He knew something was lacking.
>Later he called it confidence,
>finally a form of trust.
>
>There had been a desire, fear, a lack;
>the scrape of furniture, click of a lock,
>a key alone on the table.
>
>
>
>
>Mike
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