12-09-2012, 06:00 PM
who is TA? 
L2, I’m cleaning up; more or less says the same thing and you use the gleaning word again later on, these are the two points i think you could address. apart from the nit in the first stanza i thought it was excellent. the play on words in the 4th line got a smile from me. in the 3rd stanza i'd move disposition up a line and Fieldfares flit down to start the next line. you may have to fiddle about to get it to work but i think it would help the enjambment. did you mean seeping? in the 2nd there's a pause for thought which adds tension. there's a good feel of nature and nurture in the poem and i liked it
thanks for the read.
L2, I’m cleaning up; more or less says the same thing and you use the gleaning word again later on, these are the two points i think you could address. apart from the nit in the first stanza i thought it was excellent. the play on words in the 4th line got a smile from me. in the 3rd stanza i'd move disposition up a line and Fieldfares flit down to start the next line. you may have to fiddle about to get it to work but i think it would help the enjambment. did you mean seeping? in the 2nd there's a pause for thought which adds tension. there's a good feel of nature and nurture in the poem and i liked it
thanks for the read.
(12-08-2012, 07:35 PM)cidermaid Wrote: A frosty walk.
I’m gleaning in the orchards.
I’m cleaning up. The birds
have pecked and hollowed out,
the apple of my sty.
The sky above is empty,
devoid of blessings, free
of doves. Branched and bare.
I’m gleaning.
Green glass, frozen shards,
With blades sharp, pierce
and prick my tender parts.
A careless contract,
I’m torn apart. A wounded
heart, bare rooted.
I’m gathering back, the clinging
moss and lichen, a healthy
disposition. Fieldfares flit
and flirt. Beneath the trees
flow fruitful thoughts,
that with the sun will rise
and grow. Bearing seaping sap.
Warning authors note:-
This was written out of a desire to re-write the Not out poem but finding myself unable to process those thoughts I've done a new write in an attempt on the same subject which I hope is more accessable to the reader. I nearly titled this poem "A walk in the now whilst it is called today", but that sounded pretentious and unaccessable and it is frosty this morning and I was out gathering the last few delicious apples from the orchards... which is when i found this rumbling round in my head. so warts n all here it is. I would like to try the next stage of my writing experiance and work on this with your critique as opposed to just stashing the comments for another day. My thanks to TA for the excellent example set on your poem...I'm shamed and inspired by how you worked away on the edits.