Andrew, and Patrick, thank you. In truth, this is only my 4th poem and as
you say, it's an exercise - but I'm glad that I walked rather than talked -
speaking of cliches, those ones nearly knocked my eyes out when I re-read
the 'poem' tonight. Far too many words, also, and the point not reached at
all, not even begun to be understood by me - something about the
inter-connectedness of loss. I was beginning to approach it but my head
was so heavy with congealed words that I had to stop.
I withdrew on the first day of the Creative Writing degree I was due to
start this month. It just felt wrong. I'm still working out 'why', but two
reasons stand out - I can't (as is apparent)/won't write to the clicking of
someone else's fingers, and it seemed yet another way of asking permission
to start.
The only way forward, as you already know of course, is to learn and find by
doing. I would like very much, one day soon, to submit something here that's
finished.
Cindy
----- Original Message -----
From: "andrew burke" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Thursday, October 26, 2006 1:03 AM
Subject: Re: Snap - 25.10.06 Ashes Ceremony
> Rough? No, Cindy, not rough. A few near-cliches in the beginning
> reportage, but otherwise it is fine - I felt an intimacy and sharing
> there that gave it a graceful tone.
>
> A snap is a snap - not a well-drafted poem but the rough sudden draft
> of one. (This week I cheated and put up a poem because I wanted some
> response, and (if the truth be known) praise.
>
> So, thanks for this. And, please, write many others.
>
> Andrew
>
> On 26/10/06, Cindy Lee <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
>> Black water
>> white cliff
>> silver car disgorged
>> down the night
>> ferry road
>>
>> A sudden misalignment of
>> cats' eyes
>> screeched clutch and brake
>> sickening resistance
>> stalled silence.
>>
>> It wasn't an owl, you lie
>> unclawing my hands
>> and when we reach the house
>> you distract me from searching
>> the treads - there are
>> children and bags to unpack
>>
>> But something uneasy
>> something small feathered
>> requiring payment
>> has come home with us.
>>
>> A bare 25 moons later
>> we stand in our hundreds
>> on the beach beneath the cliff
>> pure coincidence -
>> the only Island site to grant you
>> permission to launch -
>>
>> We have come to hurl
>> champagne-wet cheers
>> at each gaudy ricochet
>> of your elemental dust.
>>
>> Only I know
>> only my numb bones know
>> that after we have left, after we leave
>> a payment will be made -
>> as what remains of you
>> falls to rest
>> black
>> upon the
>> black water.
>>
>> This is a virgin snap - my first - a snap back to Caleb's original hawk
>> and suitcase. Everything about it is very rough, but the subject was
>> irresistible, and I have run out of time. The story and the coincidence
>> of place are true. Apologies for submitting such a crude thing - just
>> can't bear sitting on the sidelines anymore. All comments (apart,
>> perhaps, from 'Give Up Now'), gratefully received. Cindy
>>
>
>
> --
> Andrew
> http://hispirits.blogspot.com/
> http://www.bam.com.au/andrew
>
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