memory weeds (edit Todd)
#1
memory weeds  


they still feed
on the old compost mound.
these nettles that sting, 
never touching my skin.
i watched purple patterns being burned on your back. 
now like then
all i do is just turn.

st john's words are wilting
in my questioning hands,
his blossoms are turned into drops of red ink.
all this is comfort
i cannot process.

in the shade of the weeds,
from the black fertile soil
wild strawberries grow like sweet ruby dreams.
they mock with stale taste,
but i eat anyway.






memory weeds  

they still feed
on the old compost mound.
these nettles that sting, 
never touching my skin.
i watched purple patterns 
being burned on your back. 
now like then
all I do is just turn.

in the hot july sun
st john's words are wilting.
in my questioning hands
blossoms turn into drops of red ink,
all this comfort
I cannot process.

in the shade of the weeds,
from the black fertile soil
wild strawberries grow like sweet ruby dreams.
they mock with their taste,
it´s too stale, 
but I eat anyway.





this is probably a little too cryptic but i still would be thankful for any kind of associations that it might evoke. as always i also would be thankful for comments on wording, grammar mistakes, logical errors and so on)

...
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#2
Hi vagabond,

A couple quick comments for you. 

(09-14-2017, 06:14 AM)vagabond Wrote:  memory weeds  

they still feed--If we're dealing with memory and regret and overcoming past trauma that's more of an older person's reflection on average. Maybe you could pull up "on the old" to end the line to play on the dual meaning.
on the old compost mound.
these nettles that sting, 
never touching my skin.--like the paradox in this line.
i watched purple patterns --like the alliteration.
being burned on your back. 
now like then
all I do is just turn.--perhaps remove the end punctuation to let this flow into the next idea.

in the hot july sun--hot isn't that interesting of an identifier for the sun. July sun may get you there (though I guess that depends on your hemisphere. 
st john's words are wilting.--did you mean St John's worts (and got autocorrected)?
in my questioning hands--questioning can work but maybe questing
blossoms turn into drops of red ink. --Just a thought instead of direct transformation what about "blossoms fall like drops of red ink" just a thought--works as you have it.
all this comfort
I cannot process.--I like the thought here.

in the shade of the weeds,
from the black fertile soil--I like black fertile
wild strawberries grow
like sweet ruby dreams.--I like the bringing back of the red twice in these last lines--reminding of blood and trauma.
they mock with their taste,--Maybe condense: they mock with their too stale taste/but I eat anyway
it´s too stale, 
but I eat anyway.





this is probably a little too cryptic but i still would be thankful for any kind of associations that it might evoke. as always i also would be thankful for comments on wording, grammar mistakes, logical errors and so on)

Sort of gives the sense of cutting. It captured my interest.

Best,

Todd
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
Reply
#3
thanks a lot for the comment! 


(09-14-2017, 06:28 AM)Todd Wrote:  Hi vagabond,

A couple quick comments for you. 

(09-14-2017, 06:14 AM)vagabond Wrote:  memory weeds  

they still feed--If we're dealing with memory and regret and overcoming past trauma that's more of an older person's reflection on average. Maybe you could pull up "on the old" to end the line to play on the dual meaning.            i like that idea and will think about it.
on the old compost mound.
these nettles that sting, 
never touching my skin.--like the paradox in this line.
i watched purple patterns --like the alliteration.
being burned on your back. 
now like then
all I do is just turn.--perhaps remove the end punctuation to let this flow into the next idea.

in the hot july sun--hot isn't that interesting of an identifier for the sun. July sun may get you there (though I guess that depends on your hemisphere.  
st john's words are wilting.--did you mean St John's worts (and got autocorrected)? yes i meant st john´s worts. the spelling change was intentional, to sort of give a hint to the plant´s medical purpose. 
in my questioning hands--questioning can work but maybe questing
blossoms turn into drops of red ink. --Just a thought instead of direct transformation what about "blossoms fall like drops of red ink" just a thought--works as you have it.
all this comfort
I cannot process.--I like the thought here.

in the shade of the weeds,
from the black fertile soil--I like black fertile
wild strawberries grow
like sweet ruby dreams.--I like the bringing back of the red twice in these last lines--reminding of blood and trauma.   
they mock with their taste,--Maybe condense: they mock with their too stale taste/but I eat anyway
it´s too stale, 
but I eat anyway.





this is probably a little too cryptic but i still would be thankful for any kind of associations that it might evoke. as always i also would be thankful for comments on wording, grammar mistakes, logical errors and so on)


Sort of gives the sense of cutting. It captured my interest.

Best,

Todd
...
Reply
#4
(09-14-2017, 06:14 AM)vagabond Wrote:  memory weeds                                                   I like the title, we all have them

they still feed
on the old compost mound.
these nettles that sting, 
never touching my skin.                                      These first four lines are marvelous.
i watched purple patterns                                     Though these  4 L may seem cryptic to some, they served this reader well. Thank you.
being burned on your back. 
now like then                                                        I kept reading this "them"
all I do is just turn.

in the hot july sun
st john's words are wilting.
in my questioning hands
blossoms turn into drops of red ink.                       I'm not sure what this line means at all, is it judgement for people or angels?
all this comfort
I cannot process.

in the shade of the weeds,                                    
from the black fertile soil
wild strawberries grow
like sweet ruby dreams.
they mock with their taste,
it´s too stale, 
but I eat anyway.





this is probably a little too cryptic but i still would be thankful for any kind of associations that it might evoke. as always i also would be thankful for comments on wording, grammar mistakes, logical errors and so on)




Thank you for the poem, vagabond.
It served as a lovely beacon for me
as I stumbled in a strange fog.
I think the very last stanza could stand
alone as a very fine short poem.



nibbed
Janine Burke
there's always a better reason to love

Reply
#5
(09-14-2017, 06:59 AM)nibbed Wrote:  
(09-14-2017, 06:14 AM)vagabond Wrote:  memory weeds                                                   I like the title, we all have them

they still feed
on the old compost mound.
these nettles that sting, 
never touching my skin.                                      These first four lines are marvelous.
i watched purple patterns                                     Though these  4 L may seem cryptic to some, they served this reader well. Thank you.
being burned on your back. 
now like then                                                        I kept reading this "them"    maybe because it makes more sense to your view of the poem
all I do is just turn.

in the hot july sun
st john's words are wilting.
in my questioning hands
blossoms turn into drops of red ink.                       I'm not sure what this line means at all, is it judgement for people or angels?
all this comfort
I cannot process.

in the shade of the weeds,                                    
from the black fertile soil
wild strawberries grow
like sweet ruby dreams.
they mock with their taste,
it´s too stale, 
but I eat anyway.





this is probably a little too cryptic but i still would be thankful for any kind of associations that it might evoke. as always i also would be thankful for comments on wording, grammar mistakes, logical errors and so on)




Thank you for the poem, vagabond.
It served as a lovely beacon for me
as I stumbled in a strange fog.
I think the very last stanza could stand
alone as a very fine short poem.



nibbed


you´re right about the last stanza, it seems a little disconnected. it´s just the poem was inspired by a real yard where stinging nettles, st john´s worts and mock strawberries incidentally grew in the same place.
...
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#6
(09-14-2017, 07:23 AM)vagabond Wrote:  
(09-14-2017, 06:59 AM)nibbed Wrote:  
(09-14-2017, 06:14 AM)vagabond Wrote:  memory weeds                                                   I like the title, we all have them

they still feed
on the old compost mound.
these nettles that sting, 
never touching my skin.                                      These first four lines are marvelous.
i watched purple patterns                                     Though these  4 L may seem cryptic to some, they served this reader well. Thank you.
being burned on your back. 
now like then                                                        I kept reading this "them"    maybe because it makes more sense to your view of the poem
all I do is just turn.

in the hot july sun
st john's words are wilting.
in my questioning hands
blossoms turn into drops of red ink.                       I'm not sure what this line means at all, is it judgement for people or angels?
all this comfort
I cannot process.

in the shade of the weeds,                                    
from the black fertile soil
wild strawberries grow
like sweet ruby dreams.
they mock with their taste,
it´s too stale, 
but I eat anyway.





this is probably a little too cryptic but i still would be thankful for any kind of associations that it might evoke. as always i also would be thankful for comments on wording, grammar mistakes, logical errors and so on)




Thank you for the poem, vagabond.
It served as a lovely beacon for me
as I stumbled in a strange fog.
I think the very last stanza could stand
alone as a very fine short poem.



nibbed


you´re right about the last stanza, it seems a little disconnected. it´s just the poem was inspired by a real yard where stinging nettles, st john´s worts and mock strawberries incidentally grew in the same place.



hi vagabond

Poetry is a marvel. I was in a different place.
I didn't see st john's worts, I saw words and thought of John 3:16
I love when poetry does that.
What a great thing to get so many useful plants in one place,
though I am not sure what mock strawberries are, I will
have to look them up! I wonder if they are like the wild strawberries
I have seen in a small field by a road near my house?

all the best

nibbed
Janine Burke
there's always a better reason to love

Reply
#7
(09-14-2017, 07:44 AM)nibbed Wrote:  
(09-14-2017, 07:23 AM)vagabond Wrote:  
(09-14-2017, 06:59 AM)nibbed Wrote:  Thank you for the poem, vagabond.
It served as a lovely beacon for me
as I stumbled in a strange fog.
I think the very last stanza could stand
alone as a very fine short poem.



nibbed


you´re right about the last stanza, it seems a little disconnected. it´s just the poem was inspired by a real yard where stinging nettles, st john´s worts and mock strawberries incidentally grew in the same place.



hi vagabond

Poetry is a marvel. I was in a different place.
I didn't see st john's worts, I saw words and thought of John 3:16
I love when poetry does that.
What a great thing to get so many useful plants in one place,
though I am not sure what mock strawberries are, I will
have to look them up! I wonder if they are like the wild strawberries
I have seen in a small field by a road near my house?

all the best

nibbed


looked up john 3:16 .  i like some bible quotes. this is not one of them.
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