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Thanks, Tad. I'll follow that up ... Andrew 2008/5/4 TheOldMole <[log in to unmask]>: > I'd start with the house. That's where the poem picks up life and momentum. > We don't need to hear that she knows the speaker misses her, because she > does know it and we know it, or can safely assume it. And we don't need to > hear that the speaker doesn't understand, because the house's experience is > mysterious and absorbing enough -- the reader can be mystified all on > his/her own. > > > > andrew burke wrote: > > I've been fiddling with a poem overnight, to my wife who is on the > > other side of Australia at present, visiting her brothers. But I am > > doubtful as to its merit and feel it needs panel beating in some way. > > Please critique, if you have the time, and return. Thanks. > > > > > > > > MISSING YOU > > > > > > Other side of the nation rather than > > other side of the bed, and all that - > > nothing mysterious about it, > > you know I'm missing you. But > > what I don't understand is how > > the house is missing you. It whispers > > its discontent and keeps me up late > > with its incessant whining. Hear? > > The trick is to turn off, I suppose, > > switch off like the hot element in > > the bedside lamp just goes off > > when I press the plastic button > > at the stem beneath the shade. > > I keep wondering at the physics > > of the real world, not the metaphoric. > > That's life without you, a dozen > > details for each event – bringing in > > _The West Australian_, shaking it > > free of dew, watering your plants, > > then having to take off whatever > > footwear I've had on because > > I've watered them too. Detail. > > Like, I've never noticed atmospheric > > control lights in the refrigerator before. > > Beep, it complained, beep beep. Detail > > like that. I can tell you now, now that > > you are so far away, I can tell you > > how many steps it takes to > > go from front door to letterbox. No > > need to know that, but I do. > > The house rises before me > > and clears every room of any life > > that might be there to join me > > as I rise from this chair, walk out > > and say, 'Hello?' Nobody. I go to > > read your itinerary on the fridge again. > > > > > > -- > Tad Richards > http://www.opus40.org/tadrichards/ > http://opusforty.blogspot.com/ > > The moral is this: in American verse, > The better you are, the pay is worse. > --Corey Ford > -- Andrew http://hispirits.blogspot.com/ http://www.flickr.com/photos/aburke/