Hi Arthur,
I was thinking of replying with the same comment as Colin - that the toads
and the mozzies seemed too similar in the poem - then I read your
response...
I was also going to say the whole poem seemed too dense with words that feel
and sound and work in such similar ways (but I guess a crowd of mozzies is
pretty dense when they gather...) so I was wanting to suggest giving it a
haircut (snipping a fair few adjectives and assonaces) remembering Dr.
Johnson who said "If you come across a particularly fine phrase, strike it
out!"
And then I came across something in your reply that intruiged me...
"I do not wish to wander too far from the truth however..." And I'm
thinking, but this is a POEM, dammit, not an entry in a Diary! Poems and
Lies have fun, sleep around, co-habit!(Grin)
Bob
>From: Arthur Seeley <[log in to unmask]>
>Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
>To: [log in to unmask]
>Subject: Re: New Sub: Hatching
>Date: Thu, 18 Sep 2025 07:59:38 +0100
>
>Oh wise and experienced Colin, had you only been there.This was a real
>event. The winged host appeared and my terror was real, unfounded perhaps
>but real enough. I had by this time been half eaten by sand flies, bitten
>several times by mosquitoes,(I actually had Malaria 6 times by the end of
>my tour.)I really did think I was in for a tormented time. My frenzy was
>sheer uneducated panic. I was alone in the heart of the bush no tourists
>handbook to refer to.The toads were my neighbours and until this time I had
>only heard them singing, I thought, " Amazing Grace" or at least the
>opening bars, outside my window.
>I am reworking this poem because I see a rich metaphor in it, the lumps of
>dark versus the light lovers seems to analogise the Manichean battle of
>light versus dark and your point about defining biter and bit a little
>clearer is apt and under review. I do not wish to wander too far from the
>truth however nor alter the outcome, for truly I think dark is winning at
>this time.This is clearly work in progress. Regards and thanks for the
>read----- Original Message -----
> From: Colin dewar
> To: [log in to unmask]
> Sent: Tuesday, September 16, 2003 6:45 PM
> Subject: Re: New Sub: Hatching
>
>
> Arthur,
>
> I didn't see the original. I like this version, with one reservation:
>there isn't sufficient distinction between the biters and the non-biters. I
>can picture that scene in the tropics, but the mosquitoes and their kin are
>creatures of darkness. They are attracted by the carbon dioxide of
>mammalian breath, heat too and then home in on preferred parts of the
>body. Globes of light are no problem them for them. They can find their way
>in and out of rooms without getting side-tracked. Then there are the
>non-biting moths which are attracted to light, disastrously (and it's one
>of the great conundrums of biology to work out why they are attracted to
>light when they too are creatures of darkness). The moths might well be a
>nuisance if you were sitting writing at a desk in the tropics but their
>presence is accidental.
>
> Taking everything into account it might be better to go with the
>non-biters (because of what happens in the second half) but then you might
>want to tone down the carnage in the first half because it sounds a bit
>heavy-handed.
>
> Then again, this poem is a dream (I think) and you could argue that in a
>dream all kind of primitive impulses are released.
>
> I think that the depiction of the toads is great. It works well as a
>memory and as a dream (with its surreal overtones)...with the exception
>that it is comparatively unlikely that they would be croaking in this
>setting (normally a summoning to water for members of the opposite sex). I
>say unlikely because I don't know enough about toads in the tropics to say
>for sure.
>
> It is quite possible that the toads were cane toads. If so I remember
>ones like them from various jaunts, hanging around in gangs under lamposts
>or hopping boldly on lawns.
>
>
>
> Colin
>
>
> ----- Original Message -----
> From: Arthur Seeley
> To: [log in to unmask]
> Sent: Monday, September 15, 2025 8:02 AM
> Subject: New Sub: Hatching
>
>
> A drastic rewrite of an older piece:
>
>
>
> Hatching.
>
>
>
> Sat in a globe of golden light, I sweat and write.
>
> Black words twitch into life over the white page.
>
> A tickle on my neck distracts, stems the fluency.
>
> I swat. Swat the faint brush of frail wings.
>
> Write and swat. What? What!
>
> A legion of biting things!
>
> The room is a whirling tumult of them.
>
> The slick torments of sleepless hours,
>
> plagued by this mad dervish swarm, loom.
>
> I swat in murderous frenzy.
>
> Wrecks surround me. Legs, wings,
>
> disposed in ragged death;
>
> pale split abdomens accuse
>
> but do not bate my onslaught;
>
> smears of brief, bright life glitter.
>
> The carnage shines like spilled riches.
>
>
>
> Still more come
>
> ...summoned by light!
>
>
>
> I move the bidding lamp out onto the veranda.
>
> Drawn by this faint guttering glow
>
> in a night as dark as sin,
>
> they tink and chime on sooty glass;
>
> wings strum and stammer,
>
> quiver in adoration of the flame.
>
>
>
> Sudden, on the banks of light,
>
> where night and the seething bush begins
>
> lumps of darkness solidify, coagulate, detach and lurch
>
> onto the veranda's platform.
>
>
>
> I stand apart from all this now.
>
> This struggle is not mine
>
>
>
> They muster.
>
> Heavy throbs of night, they glisten like gilded mud
>
> at the edge of the soft pool of light;
>
> their fat voices throb and belch;
>
> cumbersome as rocks, they squat,
>
> measure the swirl and dance,
>
> then lightning tongues dart, snipe unerringly;
>
> throats bulge with delicious gulps.
>
>
>
> The swarm consumed,
>
> the bloated toads dissolve
>
> back into the thick liquidity of night,
>
> Dawn and the day: a dream,
>
> five thousand miles away.
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