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Re-reading the poem again I do see that much of it is in very Standard English and that was my criticism. It is nice to see some character come out in the language. But Roger may want the contrast with his locals. Douglas Clark, Bath, England mailto: [log in to unmask] Lynx: Poetry from Bath .......... http://www.bath.ac.uk/~exxdgdc/lynx.html On Tue, 4 Sep 2001, david.bircumshaw wrote: > It's very _rural_, Roger. It always fascinates me how this country, the most > and longest urbanised in the world, with the possible exceptions of Belgium > or Holland, continues to produce a poetry of villages and fields. I feel the > drag myself, whenever I go walking in the countryside lanes and fields I > start getting a compulsion to go into village churches (as well as the > pubs!) > > As if the countryside were a religious substitute. Or Mother. > > I very much like the image of the tree settling its roots in the final > stanza, not sure about the dialect transcription, sounds a bit Thos > Hardyesque, but it's always hard to put non-Standard English into written > form. > > Best > > Dave > > > ----- Original Message ----- > From: "Roger Collett" <[log in to unmask]> > To: <[log in to unmask]> > Sent: Monday, September 03, 2001 6:39 PM > Subject: Poem of mine > > > > Am looking for comment and crit on the following as I don't have a group > to > > work with at the moment. > > > > > > The 'Ipsy 'Awsy Tree > > > > > > Midsummer's eve. > > The village nestles under the downs > > beneath the stick figure of the white horse. > > > > On the hill above > > there's a rattling of twiggy branches > > as the tree lifts its roots from the chalky soil > > and strides off across the down. > > > > In the 'Baker's Arms', > > a fat, rather grubby old man > > sits in the corner of the public bar > > relating local legend > > to the team from the BBC. > > > > Old Tich puts down his empty glass. > > "Used to be giants hereabout, > > they'm all gone now, et by the dragon. > > Still see their footprints alongside the Manger, > > the valley by the 'orse. > > Only baint an 'orse really, > > tis the ghost of the dragon. > > > > Old George killed the dragon > > on top of Dragon's Hill. > > There's a patch on top > > where the blood ran out. > > Tis bare to this day > > and nuthin ever grows there. > > All the fairy folk are gone now > > and all the bad wights 'cept one". > > He looks at his glass and waits. > > > > The interviewer fetches another pint. > > "Which one's that then, Tich?" > > "The one he's been scaring the kids with again" > > comes a voice from the bar. > > > > "You mark what I sez, > > the 'Ipsy 'Awsy tree walks the Vale > > each Midsummer's eve. > > It'll have the blood of a child, > > the wrong 'un what's out after midnight, > > whose folk don't care for 'un proper. > > Mark my words, someone'll regret tonight". > > > > He downs his pint, > > leaves the bar to the murmur of angry voices > > and goes back to lock himself in his cottage. > > The BBC team pack up their gear and leave > > as the landlord cries "Time gentlemen please". > > > > Just before dawn, on the hillside, > > not quite in the same place as before, > > the tree settles its roots into the thin earth, > > its berries bright with the colour of blood. > > > > Roger Collett > > 2nd September 2001 > > >