Mike,
I like this one. It's easy on the ear and easy on the (inner) eye too. My
first thought was that it can be condensed, but then I though, why? True,
there are one or two redundant words, but then if I read through it once and
derive a swift and satisfying flow of images then I may not need it to be
shorter. Indeed it's possible that some of the condensations I could have
suggested would have made it "longer" to read. Instead what I've done is
suggest some changes that are meant to adjust the sound of the poem. Any
improvement is subjective and it could well be that you prefer the sound of
the original.
Colin
----- Original Message -----
From: "Mike Horwood" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Wednesday, January 21, 2004 9:23 AM
Subject: New sub: Bream
Bream
If I concentrate hard enough, I will see it,
that day like a Chinese watercolour
with grey trees in a pale mist,
CLIFFS in the distance,
and two figures by a lake.
A silent day with blank spaces,
as comfortless as going barefoot on the shore.
And what seems like stillness to a casual glance
closer observation reveals ....DELETION OF "a"
IS slight and intermittent stirring
among the dripping boughs,
like the suspicion of movement underwater
where vision and imagination meet. DELETE "at the point"
By dint of careful contemplation, I grasp
and store each hard-won glimpse
of shade and change of tone that slides
beneath the flash of surface light,
THEN draw the shape of a large bream
out of the lake´s dark depths. DELETE "into the shallows beside the jetty"
TO TRY TO GET THE SENTENCE DOWN TO A SAYABLE LENGTH.
It drifts among the stems,
sifts the soft silt of past generations
of water plants for nourishment,
sucks and blows yellow ochre clouds
and leaves these signs behind;
pock marks in the mud, lines
where its tail has dragged.
Mike
ALSO I WASN'T SURE WHETHER THE FISH WAS BEING PULLED ON A LINE OR HAD FOUND
ITS WAY THERE OF ITS OWN ACCORD. D.K. IF THIS MATTERS. THERE IS OF COURSE
THE POSSIBILITY OF A METAPHORICAL FISH FROM OTHER WATERS THAN THE LITERAL
WATERS OF A RIVER.
ORIG:
Bream
If I concentrate hard enough, I will see it,
that day like a Chinese watercolour
with grey trees in a pale mist,
mist and shapes merging in the distance,
and two figures by a lake.
A silent day with blank spaces,
as comfortless as going barefoot on the shore.
And what seems like stillness to a casual glance
a closer observation reveals
as slight and intermittent stirring
among the dripping boughs,
like the suspicion of movement underwater
at the point where vision and imagination meet.
By dint of careful contemplation, to grasp
and store each hard-won glimpse
of shade and change of tone that slides
beneath the flash of surface light,
I gradually draw the shape of a large bream
out of the lake´s dark depths
into the shallows beside the jetty.
It drifts among the stems,
sifts the soft silt of past generations
of water plants for nourishment,
sucks and blows yellow ochre clouds
and leaves these signs behind;
pock marks in the mud, lines
where its tail has dragged.
Mike
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