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Which layout works?

4/25/2012

8 Comments

 
Hi Pente poets

I'd like some comments on the following styles for the same poem. Which one works best?

Blood on the sand  

soldier crabs emerge
scurry for safety
dig in—confuse the enemy

beyond the beachhead
wet sand gleams—shimmers--
collapses into distant haze

I dawdle in the sun—scuff tidemarks idly--
battle plans drawn
there’s sand between my toes

seagulls hover—intelligence drones
bold eyes assessing
fisherman? forager?

interest wanes—wings tilt--
new heading back to base--
glide to safe landing

sandhills deploy--
a khaki army marches
 through occupied territory

white tops attack—withdraw
engage frenetic action--
foam missiles spray

black rocks appear—higher ground
command position--
send out a scout—advance

concealed oyster shard mine--
a careless step—a sudden hurt--
blood flows

as on other sands--
blends with salt water--
is washed away

wounded I retreat
gulls’ legs skitter before me
red as the blood on the sand


A poem composed on an early morning beach walk. I was thinking about war poetry, and suddenly the images all around me were military in nature. The soldier crabs sent me down that path. (2012)



8 Comments

Let's chat about poetry!

4/7/2012

2 Comments

 
2 Comments

First Post!

4/1/2012

7 Comments

 
Hello Pente,

Before I leave next week for UK to take up my parallel life, I thought I would post up the poem I brought for assessment at our session last week. I always value your comments and suggestions, and having put all of those together, I think I have arrived at a far better poem. I will first give the draft and then I will elaborate on your comments. Finally I will give the new, improved version.

Warning

We should fear this cancer.
We should remember
when dark birds sweep over
the wrong things break free.

Poison in rainbows,
slitherings undiscovered.
Only half our houses holding fast.

Rain bleeding into creeks,
dams spilling, roads slipping away,
crops gone under the scum.
Blasphemous sky folding in on itself.

Dark birds scrolling inland
stabbing the wind,
shrieking the Wet.

Lyn Browne
Queensland, March 2012

The poem arose out of the extreme Wet that we have lately been experiencing in this corner of Queensland (well, 40 cms in 2 hours just before one of our launches was a bit excessive) When ‘bad’ weather threatens, the black cockatoos sweep stiff-winged over the Range, squawking ominously. After weeks of heavy rain, watching television footage of yet more houses washed off their stumps and roads swept away, certainly influenced the way I regarded the rain.

But I am from the UK, and had not anticipated the howls of protest from the Aussies! Rain, you all insisted, is a blessing, its the life blood of Australia, and even if it comes in temperamental bursts, its something to be valued. So ‘cancer’ was definitely out. ‘Weather’ as a subsititute was discarded as too lame, and ‘onslaught’ was suggested. It was also pointed out that the poem would have far more impact if I were to alter the verbs, eg change ‘bleeding’ into ‘bleeds’, etc.

And you are absolutely right! I am far happier with this poem, and it goes to show how valuable are our sessions over wine and lunch. I will miss you all. I won’t miss the rain. Keep writing and I look forward to my return in October. Here is the new, improved version:

Warning

Should we fear this onslaught.
remember when dark birds sweep over
the wrong things sometimes break free?

Poison in rainbows,
slitherings undiscovered.
Only half our houses holding fast. 

Rain bleeds into creeks,
dams spill, roads slip away,
crops gone under the scum.
Blasphemous sky folds in on itself.

Dark birds scroll inland
stabbing the wind,
shrieking the Wet.

Lyn Browne
Queensland, March 2012

7 Comments

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