Hi Mike,
Thanks for the comments.
With regards to the end of the first stanza... I'm trying to hint at, set
the reader up for, recognising that what's offered from the tv drama in the
last stanza just might hint at what happened to the narrator. I know in the
1st stanza it's possibly somewhere on the street, and the last stanza's in a
kitchen the narrator sees as having an identical window to one he knew...
Perhaps I need to think about the 1st line of the next stanza, too... It's
the jump from other's who're watching, to the narrator that's the issue!
And with the pears - I guess I can rephrase it: "the low rumble as pears are
tipped into a bowl" Yeh, that makes more sense. Thanks!
Bob
>From: Mike Horwood <[log in to unmask]>
>Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
>To: [log in to unmask]
>Subject: Re: Each Tuesday Night At Nine
>Date: Wed, 15 Sep 2004 14:15:13 +0300
>
> > Hello Bob,
> I like the way you´ve dove-tailed the description of scenes
>from the tv programme with the narrator´s personal memories here. I like
>the selection of details (with one query) that you´ve selected in S2. Here
>are a couple of little buts (I almost rephrased that but then I thought
>what the hell, we all like a couple of little buts, isn´t it?) I found the
>last 3 lines of S1 rather tortuous. Are you trying to fit too much
>clarification into even a long sentence? The other point from S2 is I just
>wonder about the suitability of `rumble´ with `pear´. I understand its the
>bowl that would actually make the noise but it just brought me up a bit
>there.
>Hope this is useful.
>
>
>
>Best wishes, Mike
>
>
>
>
>
> > This began after Arthur mentioned a TV programme (and I started
>imagining
> > something completely different!).
> > I'm still playing around with how long sentences should be! Punctuation
>can
> > help clarity, but it can also slow things down! Anyway, this is where
>it's
> > got to.
> > All comments welcome:
> >
> >
> > Each Tuesday Night At Nine
> >
> > Again I see the district where you live
> > on the telly. It’s easily recognisable, scenic,
> > can look romantic filmed in low light,
> > and, if they want, it can easily be found
> > by those who see each episode,
> > who’ll watch repeats, buy videos of the series,
> > and who may want to stand at the spot
> > where the script gave them something
> > they knew said how they’d feel being there.
> >
> > But I lose the plot, see instead
> > your hand inserting the key, and mine
> > marked by the weight of carrier bags
> > closing the door. Then I hear the quiet
> > forgettable things: the low rumble of pears
> > tipped into the bowl, the crackle of cellophane
> > as the misshapen carton of paprika’s set down -
> > And did we speak? I doubt it as the kettle’s filled -
> >
> > then the heroine turns from a similar window,
> > “I don’t know what’s happened,” she says
> > tears in her eyes, “Where did we go wrong?”
> > But now I’m just watching the screen,
> > the close-ups, the pauses. I know how it ends.
> >
> > Bob Cooper
> >
> > And it's not the best of titles...
> > (OK, OK, stop making excuses! If it's iffy you'll probably get to know!)
> >
> > _________________________________________________________________
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