| Author | Message | ||
| LeRoy Norman Sorenson
New member Username: leroy Post Number: 1 Registered: 02-2006 |
Mary at Dusk (for Mary R.)} In the surrounding field, the shadows begin assembly, the grass a rich poisonous green, at its edges sand and prickly weed. Harvest nears and this place will be stripped nearly clean. Even bramble bends under the constant rhythm of the scythe. A young woman sits in the naked pasture and slings her child into the warm reaches of her coat. Unknown children romp in the loose grains of gravel and weed, their hair pieces of swirl and bob. She holds out her hand to me: Come, linger beside me. We were once children trapped together during those humid days where everything stretched, throbbed and sighed. Look how the willow bark wears away. What remains is dead skin, white and soiled. In the end, there was little here to keep us. No wonder our young faces seemed bloodless, pumped dry by beating hearts rooted to a bleak river as the fields turn a forever brown. | ||
| Emusing
Moderator Username: emusing Post Number: 2897 Registered: 08-2003 |
LEROY!!!! Whoo hooo! Welcome to Wild. This is not my neck of the woods but the lovely Lisa J. Cohen. She will give you feedback you need to make this piece shine. So glad to see you place a poem here. Please introduce yourself in General Discussion so others get acquainted with your presence. Some words on your words: In the surrounding field, the shadows begin assembly, the grass a rich poisonous green, at its edges sand and prickly weed. Harvest nears and this place will be stripped nearly clean. Even bramble bends under the constant rhythm of the scythe. (Beautiful first stanza!) A young woman sits in [the] naked pasture(s,) (making the action alive here) [and] slings her child into the warm reaches of her coat. Unknown children romp in the loose grains of gravel and weed, their hair pieces of swirl and bob. She holds out her hand [to me]: Come, (keeping the pronouns to a minimum I think you can leave in “beside me” and have the subject’s motion understood) linger beside me. We were once children trapped [together] during those humid days where everything stretched, throbbed and sighed. (I would omit “together” because I think it is understood in context. It also makes for a smoother transition into the nice adverbs, stretched, throbbed and sighed.) Look how the willow bark wears away. What remains is dead skin, white and soiled. In the end, there was little here to keep us. No wonder our young faces seemed bloodless, pumped dry by beating hearts rooted to a bleak river as the fields turn a forever brown. I would suggest ending at “rooted to a bleak river.” It gives the piece a sense of finality. If you include the fields, consider finding another way to describe than “forever”. Perhaps: pumped dry by beating hearts rooted to a bleak river, the endless brown of the fields. I’m sure you could improve this. Good work my friend! E | ||
| LJ Cohen
Moderator Username: ljc Post Number: 4129 Registered: 07-2002 |
Leroy, Welcome to wild! I see you are a friend of our very own and talented Emusing.  If you have any questions about how Wild works, just let us know by moderator email (link on the left) or posting in the general announcements forum. Some thoughts on your piece in-line. My standard disclaimer--use only what resonates with you, discard what does not. Best, ljc Mary at Dusk (for Mary R.) In the surrounding field, the shadows begin assembly, the grass a rich poisonous green, at its edges sand and prickly weed. Harvest nears and this place will be stripped nearly clean. Even bramble bends under the constant rhythm of the scythe. <--I like the use of sound here field/green/weed/clean. Nice juxtaposition of 'rich' with 'poisonous'. I was a little confused at the setting--at first I thought of the golf courses that have replaced the native flora/fauna in south florida and of the Mexican workers that keep it all "perfect", but the scythe reference didn't fit for me. For the first line, I prefer more direct language, eg. (with some different line breaks) Shadows assemble in the surrounding field, the grass a rich poisonous green. At its edges, sand and prickly weed. Harvest nears. This place will be stripped nearly clean. Even bramble bends under the scythe's constant rhythm. A young woman sits in the naked pasture and slings her child into the warm reaches of her coat. Unknown children romp in the loose grains of gravel and weed, their hair pieces of swirl and bob. She holds out her hand to me: Come, linger beside me. We were once children trapped together during those humid days where everything stretched, throbbed and sighed. Again, a little suggested pruning and shifting of words--child/children/children--perhaps shift child to baby initially, the second children to young? I was confused by the 'naked pasture'--have we moved forward in time to after the harvest mentioned in s1? I don't have any specific suggestions for the 'hair pieces of swirl and bob' but it feels awkward--I keep seeing bad toupees, and I'm sure that's *not* the image you are striving for! LOL. A young woman sits in the naked pasture, slings her baby into the warm reaches of a coat. Children romp in the loose gravel and weeds, (their hair pieces of swirl and bob.) She holds out her hand: Come, linger beside me. We were once young, trapped in humid days where everything throbbed and sighed. Look how the willow bark wears away. What remains is dead skin, white and soiled. In the end, there was little here to keep us. No wonder our young faces seemed bloodless, pumped dry by beating hearts rooted to a bleak river as the fields turn a forever brown. Love the first line of this stanza. Wonderful sound and image. I think there are too many competing images in the final lines--you shift from bloodless faces to hearts to a river and to the fields. Perhaps choose one image--the bloodless faces and relate it to the dry fields? Look how the willow bark wears away. Dead skin remains, white and soiled. There was little here to keep us. I enjoyed this read and hope something I've touched on is helpful to you. best regards, ljc Once in a Blue Muse Blog | ||
| Gary Blankenship
Senior Member Username: garyb Post Number: 7036 Registered: 07-2001 |
Leroy, welcome to Wild and congrats on poem of the month in your first post. Smiles. Gary A River Transformed The Dawg House Winter 2006 MindFire | ||
| Jeffrey S. Lange
Member Username: runatyr Post Number: 73 Registered: 10-2005 |
Hi LeRoy, This is a great piece with well-deserved kudos, congrats. "In the surrounding field, the shadows begin assembly, the grass a rich poisonous green, at its edges sand and prickly weed. Harvest nears and this place will be stripped nearly clean. Even bramble bends under the constant rhythm of the scythe." Perhaps "its" instead of "at its" here. Something about "nearly clean" seems an indecisive description. End of the strophe is strong. "A young woman sits in the naked pasture and slings her child into the warm reaches of her coat. Unknown children romp in the loose grains of gravel and weed, their hair pieces of swirl and bob. She holds out her hand to me: Come, linger beside me. We were once children trapped together during those humid days where everything stretched, throbbed and sighed." With "child" once and "children" twice, it seems a bit of overkill. Perhaps some replacements can convey the sense of childhood without continually reverting to the word's use. The repetition seems a bit much for me. The depiction of the romp is great. "Look how the willow bark wears away. What remains is dead skin, white and soiled. In the end, there was little here to keep us. No wonder our young faces seemed bloodless, pumped dry by beating hearts rooted to a bleak river as the fields turn a forever brown." I'm with the opinion that "forever brown" could be stronger, particularly to wrap this up. The overall sense of decay and loss works in juxtaposition with the vibrance of youth and the feeling is one that builds and is sustained. Powerful piece here with some fantastic imagery. Thank you for posting it. ~Jeff "I had a lover's quarrel with the world." ~Robert Frost | ||
| Carol Sanger
Valued Member Username: carolsang Post Number: 148 Registered: 01-2006 |
Leroy! Oh my friend! I don't come here very often so I didn't know - thanks for your e-mail and CONGRATULATIONS! You are a "real" poet now! You're going to have to just accept it and write more and more and more and more. I am so deliriously happy for you! Love & Love - Carol PS -= you already know I love this poem. |
