2nd edit
Four-O-Clocks
Frost has burned the four-o-clocks,
the seed heavy heads are bronze and black
and the browning leaves are wilted.
This morning I sat nursing my bruised love,
devastated by your coldness last night,
feeling an affinity with the flowers.
I pull out the stems and, like my love,
the tubers stubbornly remain
ready to sprout again.
1st edit
Four-O-Clocks
The frost has burned the four-o-clocks,
the seed heavy heads are bronze and black
and the browning leaves are wilted.
This morning I sat nursing my bruised love,
devastated by your coldness last night,
feeling an affinity with the flowers.
I pull out the stems and, like my love,
the tubers stubbornly remain
ready to sprout again.
Original
Four-O-Clocks
The frost has burned the four-o-clocks,
the seed heavy heads are bronze and black
and the browning leaves are wilted.
This morning I sat nursing my bruised love,
devastated by your coldness last night,
feeling an affinity with the flowers.
Now inspired, I pull out the stems
and the tubers stubbornly remain
ready to sprout again.
While your occasional frostiness affects me
yet my love springs up reborn from deep within
and persists like the four-o-clocks.
You probably won't like this suggestion but... I think I would drop the last stanza and rework S3 like,
Inspired, I pull out the stems
but the tubers stubbornly remain
ready to sprout again after the frost.
I think the last stanza gets into too much explaining, or actually repeating the 3rd stanza.
One other thing (if that isn't enough) wouldn't browning leaves and wilted be the same thing?
I really like these lines:
"This morning I sat nursing my bruised love,
devastated by your coldness last night"
That's my take,
Dale
Hi Dale. you're quite right - I don't like the suggestion, but I'm considering it. My main reason is that stanza compares the persistent re-sprouting of love and tubers... I could get rid of the last and rework the third stanza so- what say you of this?
Now inspired, I pull out the stems
and, like my love, the tubers stubbornly remain
ready to sprout again.
Leaves can be brown without being wilted, in winter in my garden the four o clocks start off by going brown, but a hard frost will turns the leaves into mush, like boiled cabbage, which is why I describe the leaves as both browning and wilted.
Thanks for your much appreciated comments. Marianne
Really great metaphor in this piece! I agree with Erthona and Froggle, the 4 stanzas makes the theme pretty apparent. Although I do like how the last line ties in the poem. It was an awesome read thanks for posting!
hi Fogglethorpe & Bunx, thanks for reading and commenting. I've done away with the last stanza as suggested, though the third is now different, to bring in the idea of re-sprouting love, which is the note I wanted the poem to end on. Hopefully, it's now in better shape. Cheers
Marianne
Marianne,
That's pretty good. I like how you re-worked S3, putting in "like my love" for clarity. Yeah, much better, cleaner. I didn't know that about those flowers. When flowers here turn brown they are generally wilting.
Dale
hi Dale, yes I'm happier with it now. A light frost will bronze the leaves, but they don't actually wilt as such until a heavy frost hits them, when they go all limp and droopy. Hopefully, having both browning and wilted isn't too repetitive, as I'd like to keep browning for the alliterative b. Thanks for looking in again, Marianne
i think the edit cut out some of the parts that didn't really add much.
the two [the]s at the beginning don't do much for me and frost seems a better word to start with. the last line feels a little weak but i casn't suggest anything else really. you have a good little poem here that reflects the plight of many who are in love.
thanks for the read.
(05-08-2014, 12:42 PM)Mopkins Wrote: [ -> ]Four-O-Clocks
The frost has burned the four-o-clocks,
the seed heavy heads are bronze and black
and the browning leaves are wilted.
This morning I sat nursing my bruised love,
devastated by your coldness last night,
feeling an affinity with the flowers.
I pull out the stems and, like my love,
the tubers stubbornly remain
ready to sprout again.
Original
Four-O-Clocks
The frost has burned the four-o-clocks,
the seed heavy heads are bronze and black
and the browning leaves are wilted.
This morning I sat nursing my bruised love,
devastated by your coldness last night,
feeling an affinity with the flowers.
Now inspired, I pull out the stems
and the tubers stubbornly remain
ready to sprout again.
While your occasional frostiness affects me
yet my love springs up reborn from deep within
and persists like the four-o-clocks.
thanks for the comments, Billy. I've got rid of the starting 'the' as you suggest, thanks muchly, Marianne
hello foggle, yes, I'm happier with it now, it needed a trim. And it says what I wanted it to say, simply enough, I think. Cheers, Marianne