I turn off the radio's tin clatter voices
they detract from the matter at hand
which is here, like a mandated choice
that knocks you sideways with a command
That tells of winds immaterial source
and drives the arrows of searching rain
into a long dry land, riven
from the sobriety of a dry course
The rain, blast aslant by the bellow of spring,
its first longing chant, in retreat, the winter wind
I watch as it transcribes buildings dry wood grey
into soaking red brown blocks, the droplets impale.
All the quiet creatures have sunk unseen
to safer pasture, clustered together
packed tight like fire wood, they glow
against the thickening cold,
all this will change, the season has told.
But for now, wind dropping, needling water
turns to vertical patter, tin tap splatter
rattles and rages of all that is matter
staccato held by the great hands above,
before the wind surges back, and reclaims it rhyme
and turns the rain slant, aslant
one more time.
Comments
tis the season here too,
as all the news now in the east coast of the US is the coming hurricanes. Category 4 etc.
I feel the poem has a lot going for it. I have some thoughts
In the first stanza, the image of what the wave does is too long, too much.
The second stanza at first stops me with "furnace of spring" as I would consider the summer for that... I feel blots and droplets are a bit clumsy.
In the third, I stop at "tight like my wood" which I do not catch. I also feel "all this will change, soon I am told" is weak... As a reader, I'm not sure whether the change will be up or down..it lacks resolution.
The fourth stanza is exceptional, with the charged force of Hopkins and very charged images and sound. Love the slant/aslant.
I reserve the right to call them as I see them, as you are such a damn good poet. You will shortly get there where you and beyond, I'm sure, as most often a time off from writing gives the muse renewed prowess.
Looking forward to it.
..
Yes, points taken..
But believe me, spring here is an oncoming furnace. Seasons have shifted, uncertainty is certain. The first stanza was just playing around looking for an image, but I will doubtless reduce it into something more cohesive. When I say "so I am told" - I am referring to the weather bureau! Again here, some adjustment is required, perhaps drawing on the last stanza, working backwards!
Thanks for your feedback Eumo, lots to think about as always.
Take care,
Chris.
PS Our weather issues are much diminished compared to yours, listening to the news of the impending storm.
a cool reflection on change,
a cool reflection on change, weather or otherwise. I enjoyed the imagery. the creatures "clustered together / packed tight like firewood" is great. the way the metaphor fits both the way animals crowd together and the heat against the winter cold they're facing. the poem, and slanted rain, needling, etc, (all of the language in the poem) makes me think of how good poetry captures just the feeling you feel when you see or experience a certain thing. A great read. thanks.
greg
Great, you'll enjoy that..
Hughes' Crow is fantastic. Also see if you can find "The though fox" online. He's not without controversy, with the obviously strained relationship with Sylvia Plath. That said, in later life, he realised a need for redemption, with his "Birthday Letters" - which is particularly touching. He became Poet Laureate in the UK, although even then, kept his edge and was a very reluctant Laureate, he really ridiculed the position and never really relished it see:
https://www.apnews.com/740aceba9a434164a305cd9c129049ff
and
https://www.nytimes.com/2005/04/07/books/a-poet-laureates-royal-call-dr…
Not immune to royal scandals, he realised the spurious nature of the position (Phillip Larkin turned it down, even though offered - it seems he knew he would face a similar position).
Strange is this thing called verse
When called into the service of the perverse
Happy reading.
Cheers.