On 29 January 2010 08:02, andrew burke <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> I am presently trying to work this poem out. If you don't know The
> Hollow Men by TSEliot, it may lose a lot. And this format doesn't
> allow italics (for those without rich text) for the quotes. Sigh. But
> have a look if you will - any response is valid. And more than
> welcome!
>
> Illustrated History (title)
>
>
> For us, the faded ink
> whispers of a bleak end.
>
> _We are the hollow men …_
>
> Brittle bones and flawed heart,
> I am drained of much
> and live in echoes.
>
> _May this bring back
> fond memories …_
>
>
Until this point I'm bored... I'm thinking, it's another of those
sad-old-man poems (sorry, Andrew!) But then we get some action and after
this point I just love the description, especially the bouncing tradesmen...
that's so exactly right!
Would anything be lost by starting at this point?
Also it may be better to get rid of the Eliot bits, or maybe just quote him
once, at the beginning, if you still want that context.
The poem is I guess examining the experience of being older and consigned to
the role of observer -- in contemporary suburban Australia. Would it be more
powerful to leave out the introspection? Simply to describe?
I'm not sure whether this poem wouldn't work better in the third person...
or perhaps rewrite it from old Marcia's point of view?
HTH, look after yourself
Janet
> My play is all dialogue
> at the shopkeeper’s door
> with old Marcia who sits
> on the padded seat
> of her walking frame.
>
> _We are the stuffed men …_
>
> As we talk, about weather
> and rising prices, tradesmen bounce
> out of utilities and trucks
> to buy choc-flavoured milk
> and Mrs Mac’s pies.
> Stained with years,
> the old lady sips her coffee
> through a straw
> and meditates in
> their exhaust. Her dress
> is faded and her hair grey
> but she likes to watch
> tradesmen come and go,
> talking of who can bat
> and who can throw.
>
> _Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!_
>
> Vice detectives own
> the shopkeeper’s son who
> now pushes his daughter –
> thin, bespectacled, thirty –
> towards the bar.
> His family history is
> illustrated in tattoos:
> Mother’s faded numbers
> over a triangle,
> his 1% MC and devil-tailed flames,
> and now
> her bluebird and red rose.
>
> _Behaving as the wind behaves
> No nearer— _
>
> This is the way my day begins,
> This is the way my day begins,
> This is the way my day begins:
> Not with a bang but the paper.
>
>
>
> Andrew
> 'Beyond City Limits', pub. ICLL @ ECU, available at topnotch indie
> bookshops - list at http://hispirits.blogspot.com/
>
--
Janet Jackson: Words with attitude & soul
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