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badger11

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She waters memories with tea and cake,

kindles a smile of yesterday. She swims

the waves with laughter, nostalgia,

her eyes brimming to quench my thirst.

 

I note the saucer clutter, the flutter

of crumbs across the page. I stare away

 

to where the brambles congregate, I grasp

the thorn and hear the murmur of prayer

uncoil the twisted tree, the knotted ground:

two lovers ghosting from the wishing well.

 

 

 

 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

 

original:

 

She waters memories with tea and cake,

kindles a smile from yesterday. She swims

the waves with laughter, nostalgia,

her eyes brimming to quench my thirst.

 

I note the saucer clutter, the flutter

of crumbs across the page. I stare away

 

to where the brambles congregate about

the chapel; hear the breeze murmur our prayer,

uncoil the twisted tree, the knotted ground:

two lovers ghosting from the wishing well.

 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

All comments appreciated, critical or otherwise :0)

Edited by badger11
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Hello,

 

When I read the first line I immediately thought "WOW, what incredible imagery." That line promised something romantic, wistful, lonely and gentle; that promise was kept. This lovely work has caused me to weep. It is good to weep, Thank you!

 

jr

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Aleksandra

A wonderful poem badger. I loved this one. Yes the first line - it's amazing.

I don't have much words, the poem speaks for itself.

 

One of my favorites from you my friend.

 

Aleksandra

The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth - Jean Cocteau

History of Macedonia

 

 

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Badger,

 

Your unique visioning has been missed of late- a wonderful piece- full of warmth, memory and potent images evoking a thrall of emotion---

 

Well done as always!

 

DC

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Thank you rg, Aleks and Dr C.

 

That is an uplifting, heartfelt response. I'll have to persevere with this hobby :0)

 

Take care all

 

badge

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Two different poems, each had a bramble in it. Different treatment.

 

This one is nostalgic. Thanks.

"Words are not things, and yet they are not non-things either." - Ann Lauterbach

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Badger,

 

Your poem has your usual sonics, rhythms. Delicate.

In the last line,

two lovers ghosting from the wishing well

the word "ghosting" give me an ominous feel.

 

I have a question: most of the lines sound to me as iambic pentameter, why L3 and L4 in S1 are off?

 

Enjoyed the read. Thanks.

 

Lake

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Thank you Lake and JJ.

 

I have a question: most of the lines sound to me as iambic pentameter, why L3 and L4 in S1 are off?

 

I don't intentionally write in metre Lake, though often I play within a loose syllabic frame. Either way I'm not a formalist and I go where my ear takes me (a line of nine syllables or a stress pattern of less than five and with unacceptable substitutions! Tony and Tink will be gnashing their teeth icon_biggrin.png ) Pleased the sounds produced appealed to you.

 

Take care

 

badge

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The poem has a supernatural air to it, Badge. It seems to flutter wraith-like over the knolls on sparsely timbered grounds. Neither time nor mundaneness matter, only spirits -- sometimes one, sometimes two -- and an ever-present longing.

badger11 wrote:

 

Thank you rg, Aleks and Dr C.

 

That is an uplifting, heartfelt response. I'll have to persevere with this hobby :0)

Perhaps, strictly speaking it's a hobby when it's not a profession. But, in the case of poetry, of art, I think it refuses to be pigeonholed into either category. You'll persevere ... because you must. Like me, you can't stop.

 

And now, Lake has asked what I wanted to but was afraid to ask,:P and the answer is indeed revealing:

badger11 wrote:
Lake wrote:I have a question: most of the lines sound to me as iambic pentameter, why L3 and L4 in S1 are off?

I don't intentionally write in metre Lake, though often I play within a loose syllabic frame. Either way I'm not a formalist and I go where my ear takes me (a line of nine syllables or a stress pattern of less than five and with unacceptable substitutions! Tony and Tink will be gnashing their teeth
icon_biggrin.png
) Pleased the sounds produced appealed to you.
I have detected a deliberate defiance!:twisted: But really, when I listened to Tintagel (in the audio forum ... and I'd love to see the text too, so I can read along!), metrics, like the mundaneness of the world mentioned above, didn't matter. The reading captured me, and I listened to it over and over. I love your style.

 

Tony

Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic

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The reading captured me

 

What an encouraging comment Tony. Much appreciated my friend. I have been 'badgered' about 'metrics' before, but that is not a problem since prosody is an interest of many (including yourself) and those that are interested in prosody naturally have an expectation in regard to stress patterns when they see some 'regular' lines.

 

I regard poetry as a hobby because I can stop writing, but it gives me pleasure (though I read far more than I write).

 

Many thanks for the thumbs up on the reading, hope the text doesn't disappoint:

 

Tintagel

 

She trims the fat, slices thin that keeps him slim,

her loving voice so like a dripping tap.

Tip-tap, tap-tip, a dripping tap, he twists

so tight the washer snaps. A break is best,

the sea maybe, perhaps a cup of tea?

 

He drives past hives that brim with honeyed lies,

a winding road along a smugglers coast

of coves where lovers surf and tickle toes,

in quest to find a castle climbing high

against a widowed sky where sea-gulls fly.

 

He waits alone in line behind a girl

in summer frock, the sea whispers Guinevere,

and he laughs, for is he not Sir Lancelot?

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goldenlangur

Hi badge,

 

 

I love how you hold this poignant moment where she is physically present but emotionally and perhaps mentally lost in the past:

 

She waters memories with tea and cake,

 

.... She swims

the waves with laughter, nostalgia,

 

And then you link this to the

 

ghosting from the wishing well

 

 

in an echo of her predicament.

 

 

 

As every you use words with care to create wonderful sonority and flow.

 

 

 

 

goldenlangur

goldenlangur

 

 

Even a single enemy is too many and a thousand friends too few - Bhutanese saying.

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she is physically present but emotionally and perhaps mentally lost in the past

 

 

Thanks gl. Always pleased to read your insights, though personally how people choose to dwell in time is not for me to judge.

 

take care

 

badge

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badger11 wrote:

 

Many thanks for the thumbs up on the reading, hope the text doesn't disappoint:

 

Tintagel

 

She trims the fat, slices thin that keeps him slim,

her loving voice so like a dripping tap.

Tip-tap, tap-tip, a dripping tap, he twists

so tight the washer snaps. A break is best,

the sea maybe, perhaps a cup of tea?

 

He drives past hives that brim with honeyed lies,

a winding road along a smugglers coast

of coves where lovers surf and tickle toes,

in quest to find a castle climbing high

against a widowed sky where sea-gulls fly.

 

He waits alone in line behind a girl

in summer frock, the sea whispers Guinevere,

and he laughs, for is he not Sir Lancelot?

It delights! Thank you for including it! I enjoyed listening, reading, and listening while reading along.

 

Tony icon_biggrin.png

Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic

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badger11 wrote:

 

She ,

kindles a smile from yesterday. She swims

the waves with laughter, nostalgia,

her eyes brimming to quench my thirst.

 

I note the saucer clutter, the flutter

of crumbs across the page. I stare away

 

to where the brambles congregate about

the chapel; hear the breeze murmur our prayer,

uncoil the twisted tree, the knotted ground:

two lovers ghosting from the wishing well.

 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

All comments appreciated, critical or otherwise :0)

 

I am puzzled why a part of the first line is omitted in the "Quote"

 

This poem satisfies, like something familiar, good I had forgotten/overlooked. The opening " She waters memories with tea and cake" is a great, novel to me a passage. The middle could perhaps be a tad stronger (expanded) it points to the lovely closure (last two lines).

 

Trying to learn to think more like a native, I may overdo my questioning of word choices to see if mine could work. I do not say others should feel the way I do.

 

In that vein:

1) What would be the case for "smile of ..." (L2) vs "...from yesterday" and is it crucial to repeat "she"?

2) Why "clutter" not "clatter'. Consonance w/ "flutter" as good or better than rhyme, and a saucer is more likely to "clatter" than being "cluttered"

3)Isn't "gather (a)round" Anglo-Saxon for the Latinate "congregate" and perhaps preferable? Moreover "con" points to inclusion and "about" is then perhaps a repetition, a tautomer , like in saying "The white horse is white."

 

My quibbles pale next to fact I enjoyed the poem much esp. the last two lines. Thanks for a great read, and forgive me English not being even my second language. I can stand all the help I can get.

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Hiya badge ...

 

That little transition in the middle is masterly:

 

I note the saucer clutter, the flutter

of crumbs across the page. I stare away

 

WOW!

 

ded

Drown your sorrows in drink, by all means, but the real sorrows can swim

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In that vein:

1) What would be the case for "smile of ..." (L2) vs "...from yesterday" and is it crucial to repeat "she"?

2) Why "clutter" not "clatter'. Consonance w/ "flutter" as good or better than rhyme, and a saucer is more likely to "clatter" than being "cluttered"

3)Isn't "gather (a)round" Anglo-Saxon for the Latinate "congregate" and perhaps preferable? Moreover "con" points to inclusion and "about" is then perhaps a repetition, a tautomer , like in saying "The white horse is white."

 

We are fortunate to have you on the forum Waxwings. You have again generously given some thoughtful comments for me to ponder on for future revisions.

 

The flutter/clutter choice reflected a point of view, the psychology as it were: crumbs don't flutter, butterflies do, so this is ironic comment on the romantic; similarly clutter is used to unveil the reality, the facade of formality, but I take your point.

 

congregate - I wanted to thread some religious terminology, an echo of the past to emphasize the emptiness of the present. Either way I definitely have to re-think about'!

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Nick Tselepides

Badger,

 

This is my first post in this forum and it happens to be a reply to your poem.

 

I liked it a lot and I think it is very much your style. Regarding the sounds, I can see some internal rhyming here and there (like with "flutter" and the similar word).

 

The only quibble I have is:

 

...congregate about

the chapel...

 

I could never end a line with "about" used in this manner and running on ot its object "the chapel" in the next line. The transition does not work for me. Still, it is your choice.

 

As said before, your work is very much a case of British literate diction and that is nice as it will lead many, I hope, to learn some good new English words. I am sure that many of the Americans and non-English speakers here find words they have not seen before in your poetry.

 

Keep up the good work.

 

Nick

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I could never end a line with "about" used in this manner and running on ot its object "the chapel" in the next line. The transition does not work for me. Still, it is your choice.

 

No, it is not working for me either Nick.

 

I'm started reading Levertov's Collected Earlier Poems and in some poems she breaks a line on the 'small' words - to, the, but, and - feels uncomfortable, maybe that was her intention.

 

badge

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