I hope everyone has had an enjoyable Easter! I'm sorry for the slack blogging, I've been really quite busy since I finished work for the holiday, actually 'busy' might be a bit over the top, I've hardly been rushed of my feet but I've kept myself entertained with painting ( a wall), picnicing, record shopping, entertaining, reading and I've been getting totally absorbed in my gardening, sowing lots of seeds and generally mollycoddling my seedlings. I've just been having a really nice relaxed time, oh the joys of not having to work. I've even written some poetry, it's obviously quite inspired by the gardening as it's called 'Earth'.
Constructive criticism welcomed as I tend to get a little slap happy with the thesaurus and I really have no idea how to write poetry properly and I want to learn.
EARTH.
I can see her from here
from the outer reaches of space.
Out here she seems quite trite
merely commonplace.
But as I float into
the heliocentric gyres
I remember with a happy heart
that distance is a liar.
As amid the sterile orbs
an oasis appears.
Manifest, the gravid Goddess rolls,
quieting my fears.
Steadfast revolutions,
turning pivots true,
Uberous swirling colours wind
white then green and blue.
A vituous maiden,
She catches the eye
in jealousy and love
of all the planets that pass her by
on their journey around the sun.
So generously the solar king
showers her in gold
and keeps her in his protective glare
banishing the cold.
Her faithful leige the pious moon
lovesick for her embrace,
futile desires leading him on an
endless celestial chase.
And as I draw nearer,
I am charmed by her spell
the sirens law lured me,
and downwards I fell.
And from this great vantage
I see canyons and seas
I see mountains and marshes
and forests of trees.
Water carved rocks, ocean broken
to minute grains of sand,
As mighty tides are rising up
pummeling the land.
And now I see a mothers love
carefully laid down,
a multi-coloured patchwork blanket
covering the ground.
Everywhere miraculous birth
from a magical loamy womb.
Everywhere awakening,
rising from the tomb.
Beguiled by Persphones' floral dance
I follow underground.
And journey to dark haggard caves,
where death is all around.
Fosilized wisdom, ancient whispers,
uttered by the Crone,
echo wildly back and forth,
no company but there own.
And down and down and down I go,
to where the rabbits hide
till at last I reach, her fiery heart
and see the light inside.
And there I stand, in wonder and awe
at the grand design,
the brilliant light inside,
the divine.
posted by Moonpie at 10:38 PM
5 Comments:
Hi Moonpie,
I really like the image of the Earth as our mother, holding us in her embraceand carving this wonderful home for us. And how poorly we have repaid her kindness...I wouldn't criticise a thing, jut a few typos and the like. My favourite line is the one about ditance being a liar.
Enjoy your garden; it's a few weeks yet for me to begin my balcony flowers, something I look forward to every May around the Victoria Day holiday.
Cheers,
AM
1:57 AM
Moonpie,
I love the moon’s voice; his familiarity with the Earth. There’s a great poem by the American poet Laura Kasischke, possibly from her collection Gardening in the Dark. I believe it’s a poet titled “Letter to the Earth” and if the title is not so obvious, the poem comes in the form of a letter written to the earth (and the letter just seems a great approach for direct address from one inanimate object to another).
I REALLY like the voice and your control of the voice in these stanzas. I love the tone of distant solitude I remember with happy heart//Manifest, the gravid Goddess rolls.
I must add that there’s a tone so English in the allure, in the romantic distance, that I think of Wordsworth. But this shows more my lack of or limited education in poetry. (Wordsworth is standard reading material for a required course in Romanticism.)
Some weaknesses I encounter, besides my experience :-), are moments of great energy framed by lines more flippant (when you are not flippant). E.g.:
Steadfast revolutions,
turning pivots true,
Uberous swirling colours wind
white then green and blue.
Any reader would spot that the last line runs only for the rhyme and this weakens the energy of the 'revolutions'. I also wonder if the adjective to describe the revolutions is the strongest (most precise) one.
While I’m here, addressing sections that deserve your keenest eye:
Water carved rocks, ocean broken
to minute grains of sand,
As mighty tides are rising up
pummeling the land.
And now I see a mothers love
carefully laid down,
a multi-coloured patchwork blanket
covering the ground.
Again I sense in the first stanza that the last line is simply in place for the sake of the rhyme. Too, ‘pummeling’ destroys. It’s a verb I have struggled with, ‘pummel’. The transition into the “mother’s love” doesn’t work well for me. From absolute destruction to the quiet ease of a mother’s love is too great of a stretch.
With that said, and whatever I am saying is only my opinion and whatever is written can be fixed or changed and whatever. Nothing is written in stone, I’ve said before to students, except what’s written on headstones.
With that said, I notice a switch somewhere in the moon’s voice. Somewhere he has moved from recalling a loving knowledge of Earth to rolling her through history to spinning her expanse through myth. It’s the latter that I do wonder about, it’s where I sense the shift. In other words, there’s another story the moon is referencing, but he does more than refer to another story.
Her faithful leige the pious moon
This line (above) kicks him out and what follows is a voice from or directed by the other story.
There are great great great details included in the poem. The length is wonderful. And you worked hard to rhyme, as tho rhythm/meter is important to you as a poet. What always helps me (and I should listen to myself more) to hear the strong points and the weaker sections clearly in my own work is to read my work aloud. For some reason when I read my own work aloud, I will hear the ‘marbles’ against the ‘silk streams’ of words. It’s here that I knock out whatever is unnecessary to make my point, to highlight and strengthen what deserves, as far as I am concerned, to be shown or to be said.
This is an extensive comment back and I dunno if I’ve gone too far. I have been thinking about your poem for a couple of days and I guess from my heart I wanted to give you something back. I believe you have a great piece here worthy of some investment. And I believe that it’s in the reworking of the lines, shaking them out, stirring them up, that poets bloom.
-g+bb
9:51 PM
I like your poem.
The imagery, subject matter, and style, remind me of the early 19th century Romantics. (Lord Byron being a firm favourite of mine).
I hate coming across blogs where someone's just thrown some random words together and called it a poem. I like the discipline behind this.
3:46 AM
I'm glad you've all enjoy the poem. It's really encouraging having feedback like this.
Gina, you're comments are really helpful, thanks for going to the trouble, it is appreciated.
I'm going to try another draft because I can see your point about the weaker lines and I think it could be better.
I hope you're all having a lovely weekend.
I have the frightening task of babysitting my two little nephews tonight, scary stuff, they're going to run rings around me!
11:50 AM
Oh but I hope you really see that the strong lines expose the other ones! Yes.
-g+bb
3:57 PM
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