Hi Gary!
Seems we pressed our mouses bums at the same time! I sent my message then
found yours waiting. I like way of the ending as I read it at the end of
this!
Bob


>From: Gary Blankenship <[log in to unmask]>
>Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
>To: [log in to unmask]
>Subject: Revised:  South Beach, Low Tides and comments to Sue, Deborah,
>Carl a few times, Frank, Ann
>Date: Fri, 9 May 2003 08:25:50 -0700
>
>The only problem I had with this poem is
>that the ending just ended, like halt, bam, its over, and I wanted
>something
>more, something perhaps that summed it up.  You might want to work on your
>ending, --Sue
>
>Sue, agreed.  Below is an ending which ties back into the poem (and a few
>other minor changes.)
>
>*
>
>I haven't seen any one post a response, on this board, and I hope you
>do not mind. - Deborah
>
>I never mind a companion, even one written prior to the one paired to.  We
>need more companions, esp
>
>and wonder how many times
>he has seen
>similar sunsets
>
>*
>
>I feel that this is more of a
>private journal entry than a poem intended for a general audience.-Carl
>
>Carl, perhaps.  However, I'm not sure that every poem should be - for a
>general audience that is.  Some might attach only to one - the author; some
>to two - say Mom or a lover; some to a community - say a poem about poetry;
>and a few to the world at large.  But mostly this poem is an exploration of
>an idea and may indeed connect to no one, though others have said it does.
>
>*
>
>When I when I when I etc.: it's a fairly weak
>structure.--Carl
>
>The structure, stanza style, use of senses and "When I etc" were given.
>Change to remove the scaffolding might occur later.  BTW, several of your
>edit suggestions taken.
>
>*
>Another problem with S4 is that there's just
>a wad of foods mentioned. S4 lacks the diversity and development of the
>other strophes,-Carl
>
>While I have still have a wad of food, albeit different, I think the new
>end
>connects better and gives the end more meaning.
>
>*
>
>Wondered if you needed the first clam (clam
>chowder), seeing you specify clams a little later in the S.
>
>Frank, gone.
>
>*
>
>The flow is good to, just right for performing, though it would have to be
>read with an American accent, actually Sylvia Plaths would have been an
>ideal candidate, her voice would have done this justice. Just one stalling
>point 'the first our alarm, to rise and dig', it seems a bit clumsy, a
>pebble among the pearls.--Ann
>
>Ann, I will try it at the next venue and see what I get.  Your edit taken.
>
>*
>
>Thanks all.  This was actually a multi-part challenge with more to go, so
>I'm sure the poem will do more than sleep in the sun to the sounds of surf.
>
>Smiles.
>
>Gary
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>*
>
>South Beach, Low Tides
>
>When I smell onions, I remember
>chowder simmering in the double-wide
>on a Memorial weekend afternoon,
>fresh baked bread ready to snatch from the oven,
>clams dug from the granite sand of South Beach,
>morning fog so thick it plugs up your nose
>with salt air and the odor of dead crabs at low tide.
>
>When I see your new scarlet dress, I think
>of a windsock riding along the beach
>a vain attempt to fly a sock mistaken for a kite,
>Willy's red pickup stuck in the creek,
>another futile effort to beat the tidal flow.
>Hazel  claimed it was the fourth he left
>caught in the mud to rust until it drifted to China.
>
>When I hear a train whistle, I'm taken back
>to days when the Southbound came through at 5 am
>and the Northbound at dinner, the first signals
>the morning dig, the evening run for pennies on the track,
>flattened souvenirs found many years later
>among sand dollars, kite string, Nehi bottle caps,
>and a ruby shoe, size 2, rescued from the surf.
>
>When I taste hot chocolate laced with whipped cream,
>memories of peanut butter sandwiches, wild strawberries,
>root beer Kool Aid, burnt hot dogs and marshmallows
>flood back like an oil slick from another old Ford
>left to rot among the kelp on South Beach.

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