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Raking


Lake
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Revised

 

The sound of leaf blowers

stirs the brooding air;

I prefer to hear leaves

sing under my rake.

 

Leaves scraped into piles,

like words to lines to stanzas,

I comb my thoughts

scattered over the years.

 

A sudden wind blows

them all away; I sigh,

I laugh: how could thoughts

like wild leaves be tamed?

 

 

Original

 

The sound of leaf blowers is noise to me,

I like to hear leaves sing under my rake.

Blue iris bow their heads in withered rust,

yet autumn grass still glows its summer green.

Leaves rustle into piles, neat as stanzas,

while I comb my thoughts scattered over the years.

A sudden wind blows them all away, I sigh,

I laugh: how can thoughts like wild leaves be tamed.

 

 

(WIP. Need help.)

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I like the rhythm of this poem, Lake. The imagery and ending made me laugh with you. I can imagine the frustration myself.

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

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Aleksandra
The sound of leaf blowers is noise to me,

I like to hear leaves sing under my rake.

Blue iris bow their heads in withered rust,

yet autumn grass still glows its summer green.

Leaves rustle into piles, neat as stanzas,

while I comb my thoughts scattered over the years.

A sudden wind blows them all away, I sigh,

I laugh: how can thoughts like wild leaves be tamed.

 

 

(WIP. Need help.)

 

How powerful poem, and full with expressions Lake.

Very poetical and picturesque. It is a real autumn imagery.

 

Aleksandra

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

History of Macedonia

 

 

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Thanks Joel. I'm glad that the ending made you laugh.

 

Thanks Alex, yes an autumn poem. Glad you think it is poetic and picturesque.

 

After a few more reads, I find iris line is a bit out of place. So I chopped it down and restructured the whole poem. I will post it up there and see if it's better or worse.

 

Thanks as always.

 

Lake

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Hi Lake,

 

I like both versions, albeit for different reasons. The first version caught my attention as a metrical endeavor in which the first four lines are pretty good iambic pentameter --

 

the SOUND/of LEAF/BLOWers/is NOISE/to ME/

i LIKE/to HEAR/LEAVES SING/UNder/my RAKE/

BLUE I/risBOW/their HEADS/in WITH/ered RUST/

yet AU/Tumn GRASS/still GLOWS/its SUM/mer GREEN/

 

I would probably use a period, semicolon, or em-dash (--) at the end of the first line. The IP in the last four lines could be tweaked a little.

 

I also like the compactness of the second version. Perhaps you could alter the second verse slightly. Something like this might work --

 

Leaves are scraped into piles

like words into lines and stanzas;

I comb my thoughts,

scattered over the years.

 

My suggestions aside, I like how your pastoral poem harnesses the change of the seasons and uses it to stoke the sensibilities of the human mind toward the passage of time. Again, my apologies for the delay in getting to this poem. icon_redface.gif

 

Tony

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

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goldenlangur

Hi Lake,

 

There's a wonderful Issa-like self-deprecatory humor in your poem, particularly in these lines:

 

"A sudden wind blows them all away, I sigh,

I laugh: how can thoughts like wild leaves be tamed."

 

The original has a tanka or even haibun-like flow and use of language. The revised version is tighter and the use of punctuation does give quite a different cadence and caesura effects.

 

How well you turn a seasonal moment into one with a personal charge and evocation.

 

goldenlangur

goldenlangur

 

 

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

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Hi Tony,

 

You have a sharp eye for this piece regarding its meter. I, unconsciously, started off with IP, then found it too hard to stick to the strict iambic pentameter, so I dropped it. After seeing your scansion, perhaps I should give it another try?

 

Thanks for your other pointers. They are well taken.

 

I'm very grateful for your reply. Don't ever mention apology, Tony icon_smile.gif

 

Lake

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Hello Golden,

 

I feel humbled by your words "Issa-like self-deprecatory humor in your poem". Glad you spotted the last two lines. There's a lot I need to learn from those Haiku, Tanka masters.

 

All the best,

 

Lake

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goldenlangur

Hello again,

 

I think you have a wonderful 'feel' of the haiku form and I hope you will give the tanka a try.

 

goldenlangur

goldenlangur

 

 

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

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goldenlangur wrote:

 

I think you have a wonderful 'feel' of the haiku form and I hope you will give the tanka a try.

 

Ah, that's a wonderful feel to hear these encouraging words.

 

Many thanks, Golden.

 

Lake

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Frank E Gibbard

Lake, I like this reflective piece and its extended metaphor linking thought and the seasonal dispersal. The practical is linked with the meta-physical, a lot is heaped up like the leaves in this short form. Autumnal musing of a fine kind. Frank

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Prefer the revision, it strengthens the wry self reflection. A wonderful poem, "Ultimately one branch of criticism, believes that all poems are about poetry" which is perfectly captured here.

 

DC

thegateless.org Come on over and check out my poetry substack y'all;-) Or if your bored, head to the Zazzle store: https://www.zazzle.com/store/gateless. If you buy anything I lose a bet, so consider that before you violate the digital rules.

 

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