Letter from the Ice Age

[wystan1000]

Thanks for the feedback. I didn't see any added so haven't been back since! It's interesting you mention the rhythm because this was one of least formal things that I have done. Tried to make it as natural as possible (I've come a long way, believe me). So I totally get what you mean.

Yes, I am not quite sure about "weed" although it is a word I use. Will have another go at the rhythm.

The last stanza, I am trying to say how I am a repository of things that seem unthinkably ancient since my family was poor and a bit chaotic. The man was a sort of objective correlative. But it doesn't work so I will think of something else.

Much obliged!

Hi - this is my first poem here. I'm looking forward to continuing to work with you all. Takooba (Michael Willoughby)

Letter from the Ice Age

I used to dream of having a piss
instead of having to go in the cold. not sure that there is a difference here which warrants "instead" Wait until your eighty.
When I woke up, I was still bursting,
so I got out and weed. Out or up? Up I think. don't like "weed"...wrong connotations and infantile or senile word. Not much else to offer but a rearrange to avoid repetition...maybe "relieved" or "voided"
But it was another dream. Maybe
"...so I got up and voided
but I was still dreaming;
one night I sleep-peed
in my chest of drawers." Your poem.
One night I sleep-peed in my chest-of-drawers.

Those FebruariesYou are jerking around with the rhythm now. It is not helping things. The thing is collapsing in to prose with line-breaks.
" In February days before central heating,
before double-glazing, we'd dress by the fire.
Flames spared us the pain of cold winter mornings,
as bare fleshed we shivered into our clothes." Look, I am not saying this is better than what you wrote, it isn't, because it's your poem...but it exemplifies flow as a force majeure.




before double-glazing,
and central heating.
We had to dress in front of the fire
to spare the pain of cold, bare flesh.

At night, indoors wasn’t enough
you had to be in something else;
two jumpers,
two pairs of socks
a rug, two blankets.

Cracks let in ice jets of air.
I still have to be sealed
hermetically
under the duvet.

Clouds of steam
from the hot tap,
the draining potatoes;
sheets of crystal spreading
over the inside of sash windows…

The coal man wrestling unruly sacks
brought us joy to feed the Aga
for a nightly life-bath.
I would prod the logs in the fireplace
for a crackle and glow,
wishing I could take one to bed. Same applies throughout but it really is a great piece of observed personal history. It is the rhythm which detracts. See if you can tighten it up without losing the naturalness of the content. It should be a worthwhile exercise.
This is me liking it.
Best,
tectak

—-

In Cumbria, I saw an old man, alone,
in sack-like tweed of Dunduckerty mud,
a green wool tie.Superfluous to this piece...start another with this remnant.

Everyone used to dress that way.

---

Thanks, AJ. I am so delighted that I didn't have to outside to pee. It's virtually a hobby.

Love my aga it's like an old friend. (it is ancient with scrolling writing - sadly converted from solid fuel to oil).
Great subject. Brings to mind the metal framed single paned Windows with ice on the inside you could etch pictures in....oh and the evils of the splash effect from the loo in the lean too bathroom when it froze in the night and you didn't notice.
AJ