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frozen shoulder


badger11
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A cup of peppermint tea to unclothe

the tight tiredness of a sleepless night.

The fern clad hills are gilded with light,

my shoulder aches, the bones aflame.

 

Beetles scuttle across the wrinkled floor,

memories in the attic moan once more.

The dust shimmers in the rusted lung,

miners - father, grandad, and son.

 

Their maggot white eyes tunnel the mind,

all earth is wormed with Rhondda song.

They ice my shoulder with ghosted breath,

their voices beckon to where I must belong.

Edited by badger11
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Hello Badge. An excellent poem of reflection made all the better for what it does not actually say. The last stanza could amost stand as a poem on its own. Benjamin

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I love your unique style, Badge. It's like a place that's unfamiliar to me, yet somehow I know it.

 

This one's intriguing. It seems "close to home" for the writer. I get a good sense of the local flavor.

 

Tony

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

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Thanks Tony. I don't have your skills in the craft, but pleased that my indulgences have found a home here.

 

cheers

 

badge

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Maggie London

I really like what I see and hear in this draft.

 

One concern: when you set up a reader to expect rhyme, or near-rhyme,

you need to stay with rhyme, or the piece becomes sloppy listening.

 

Here are some suggestions based on what I 'hear and see'.

 

 

 

A cup of peppermint tea loosens

the tight tiredness of a sleepless night.

The fern clad hills are gilded with light.

My shoulder aches. It's what happens.

 

Beetles scuttle across the wrinkled floor,

(and/the)memories in the attic moan once more.

Death's dust shimmers in the rusted lungs

of miners: father, grandad, son.

 

 

 

You might want to re-work the first and third lines in this quatrain.

 

My suggestion for the 4th line is based on the voice, tone, energy and emotion I hear.

 

Their maggot white eyes tunnel the mind,

all earth is wormed with Rhondda song.

They ice my shoulder with ghosted breath,

Voices beckon. I go where I belong.

 

 

You really have a quality draft going here.

 

Use whatever suggestions you like. Round file the rest.

 

 

This was a pleasure to read.

 

 

 

Maggie

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hi Maggie

 

Thank you for the thumbs up and the close reading. I've worked on the last line with the help of others on another forum, but you've given another perspective with breaking the line. I had wanted to retain a tension/reluctance, but I have wisely been warned for overloading lines! I'll ponder your suggestion.

 

The consistency of rhyme was something of a template for me in the past. A casual use of rhyme perhaps suggesting happenstance rather than craft. As you rightly say there is the matter of reader expectation to consider as well. I hadn't thought of 'sloppy listening', but a valid point too.

 

There is quite an interesting debate on rhyme and meter on this thread of Eliot's poem 'The love song of j. alfred prufrock'

 

http://www.everypoet.org/pffa/showthread.php?t=75397

 

Either way I appreciate your response.

 

welcome to the forum

 

badge

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