this is a pretty picture, but it isn't enough in a way, for me.
in either direction: it's not static enough (à la WCW) & not involving
enough (for the scene to matter very much). the descriptions are nice,
but that's really all. holes in trousers, steaming tarmac,
grass-stained fingers. I like the parallel of Emily's knees & the
knees of the kids; but there's little here to be excited about, or
even especially happy about. it's quaint & nice, the language is nice,
but simple to the border of cliché.
which isn't to say that this is a bad poem! it's just not very much of
a good one, as in, there's not MUCH or much dimension. I love the
simplicity of the scene, but the nice simplicity isn't really all it's
cut out to be; the language, the tone, the rhythm should all be a tad
more inventive for this to evoke.
but a fine debut Lynda, thanks for putting it to us. :)
KS
On 18/08/07, Lynda Nash <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> A little poem entiltled...
>
> Emily in the Window
>
> Feet upon the sill, waiting
> she hugs her knees
> and mouths words onto the glass.
>
> a cock-eyed smile
> a silent shout
> a simple wave.
>
> The creak of metal. A rush of air.
> Are you coming to play?
> All the children run
>
> along the steaming tarmac
> grass-stained fingers and holey knees
> laces of their trainers flapping.
>
> Holding tight the cold frame
> she dangles
> her hair caught on the wind.
>
>
> Tear away - I can take it!
>
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