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badger11

South of Ceibwr

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badger11

 

 

 

 

Revised

He drives along grass-tufted lanes;
not brave, not trusting: solitude
maps his straying ways.

The cove shelters a seal and pup;
no smugglers, no theatre of men
scripts the fraying waves.

 

Original

He drives along grass-tufted lanes;
not brave, not trusting: solitude
maps his straying ways.

The cove shelters a seal and pup;
no smugglers, no theatre of men
to fray the collar of days.

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tonyv

What has drawn this motorist to this point of desolation? His "straying ways" are most intriguing to this reader. Is he simply trying to escape that dullness of the daily grind (the "collar of days") with his tedious colleagues (the "theatre of men," the "smugglers")? Or is there something more profound, perhaps an obsession, that haunts him? He could be running from it or toward it, or he could think he's running from it when actually he's running toward it (or the other way around). The fact that the seal is not alone augments the depiction of the man's isolation.

Tony

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badger11

Thanks Tony. The intention was to convey that solitude prompts him to take less visited roads.

best

Phil

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Tinker

Hi Badge,  I enjoyed the comfort of rambling through familiar roads that you beautifully describe in this poem.   I feel this way every time I drive home from the office or shopping in town.  The closer I get to home the forest is denser the trees almost embrace the road, like a welcoming home.  I hear people say things like they must unwind from the day once they get home.  I have always felt my drive home into the serenity of nature is my unwinding time.  I am so grateful the fires didn't shift and destroy this beauty.  And the coast line is at my back offering me another land/seascape should I wish to travel just a little further.  There is a favorite restaurant only 10 minutes from my home that sits out over the bay and there is always one or two sea lions swimming there. Such a familiar site that my grandkids named one Emmitt and when they come up to visit we always go there, enjoy a bowl of the best clam chowder in the world and watch Emmitt bob away.   I thought of Emmitt the second I read "seal and her pup".    

ps.. I am always impressed by the frame of your work.  You provide what appears to be a fluid free verse poem when in reality you have paid meticulous attention to nonce form of syllabic unrhymed tercets. with 8-8-5 syllables per line.   Masterfully done.

~~Tink

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badger11

Thanks Tink. Always pleasing when a reader connects a poem to a personal context. I guess this brings a poem alive outside the writer's head space :smile:

best

badge

 

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