Lake Song - revised

[lucentwavering]

Draft 2

Grandma, give me your smile,
your love, say it will always last --
lies, of course; but still,
the sun is poised to dive
into the lake and we sit
rippling at the dock.
Home's a weekend we stole
from summer, back tripping
at tree roots -- Grandmother Willows;
back to the minutiae of moss
-- don't step on it; birchwood's
tender peeling. I've returned
to hold you circled in embraces,
a green carpet at your trunk
and slender trembling. Though the forest's
raw queer roar is calling
and life is everywhere at once,
for now I'm at your feet
begging that you'll smile: you do.


Draft 1

Grandma, give me your smile.
Grandma, give me your love, and say
it will always last - lies
of course; but still, the sun is poised
to dive into the lake
and we sit rippling at the dock.
Home’s a weekend we stole
from summer, back tripping at roots
of trees (of Grandmother
Willows) back to the minutiae
of moss - don’t step on it -
birchwood's tender peeling.
I’ve come back to hold you circled
in embraces, a green carpet
at your trunk and slender
trembling. Though the forest’s
raw queer roar is calling, though life
is everywhere at once,
for now, I’m at your feet begging
that you’ll smile. And you do.

[Clandestine]

Grandma, give me your smile.
Grandma, give me your love, and say
it will always last - lies
of course; but still, the sun is poised
to dive into the lake
and we sit rippling at the dock.
Home’s a weekend we stole
from summer, back tripping at roots
of trees (of Grandmother
Willows) back to the minutiae <---This is a bit rough. Feels choppy
of moss - don’t step on it
birch-wood's tender peeling. <--- One word
I’ve come back to hold you circled
in embraces, a green carpet
at your trunk and slender
trembling. Though the forest’s
raw queer roar is calling, though life <--Choppy again. But good effort.
is everywhere at once,
for now, I’m at your feet begging
that you’ll smile. And you do.

[lucentwavering]

Thanks for the observations. May I ask more specifically what you found choppy about those sections, and how you would suggest to proceed?

[ellajam]

Hi again. I like what you've done here, here are some notes.

Grandma, give me your smile. The repeat doesn't work here, if you are referencing 2 grandmas, tree and human, it's not coming across to me yet
Grandma, give me your love, and say love this ending in lies
it will always last - lies
of course; but still, the sun is poised
to dive into the lake I've written a lot of lake poems and never said this, beautiful
and we sit rippling at the dock. rippling stopped me but I like it
Home’s a weekend we stole beautifully said
from summer, back tripping at roots
of trees (of Grandmother I'd cut the parenthetical phrase, I don't think you need it
Willows) back to the minutiae
of moss - don’t step on it - love this, it puts me there
birchwood's tender peeling.
I’ve come back to hold you circled
in embraces, a green carpet here's where the tree becomes grandma even if you cut the other references
at your trunk and slender
trembling. Though the forest’s
raw queer roar is calling, though life raw queer too murky for me
is everywhere at once,
for now, I’m at your feet begging
that you’ll smile. And you do. The end would be stronger without "and you do"

Just some thoughts

[71degrees]

Grandma, give me your smile.
Grandma, give me your love, and say
it will always last - lies
of course; but still, the sun is poised
to dive into the lake
and we sit rippling at the dock.
Home’s a weekend we stole
from summer, back tripping at roots
of trees (of Grandmother
Willows) back to the minutiae
of moss - don’t step on it -
birchwood's tender peeling.
I’ve come back to hold you circled
in embraces, a green carpet
at your trunk and slender
trembling. Though the forest’s
raw queer roar is calling, though life
is everywhere at once,
for now, I’m at your feet begging
that you’ll smile. And you do.

All my grandparents died before I knew them. After reading your poem, I wish I would have met yours. I like the language (e.g. reference to "roots" / rippling / trembling…last-lies) nice sounds throughout. Even "queer" sounds like a word associated more with an older generation, like a grandma's. I like you "being at the feet" of grandma. A little kid would do that and I think that's the persona you are projecting. Even the gentle admonishment "…don't step on it" sounds like banter between narrator and grandma. I like the consistency of this piece.

Nit picky things: just say "Grandmother Willows"; no reason to preface it with "…of trees" Double "of's" is goofy construction and the more specific usage is always better than general.

Words like "that" at the end serve no purpose. Trim every word you don't essentially need (see Ellajam's advice). Even "though" life" is wordy. Just "life…" is enough to get the thought going. Also, repetition works better in longer pieces. These too are wasted words in such a short piece.

Thanks for posting this. I like it.

[tectak]

Hello Lucent,
you have written a stylised piece of prose which is amost, but not quite, a prayer. There are problems of texture which has been mentioned by others and I can only agree. Overall, the issues are more of dogma....any critique is, to some extent, dogmatic. You do not have to take note of what is coming because to be seasonally spirited you have little to be worried about. The line by line is an attempt by me to make this piece better for me...that may not be enough
Grandma, give me your smile.
Grandma, give me your love, and say
it will always last - lies
of course; but still, the sun is poisedOK. Nice opener BUT but me no buts...what IS that "but" doing there. What is the contra-indication that requires a "but"? There is no mutual exclusion in the lies of the grandmother and the sun skinny dipping. So no "but".
to dive into the lake
and we sit rippling at the dock. See what has heppened? Because of that one little word you are on a long train of disconnect. Think about it. Granny lies but the sun goes down and we sit at the dock. Huh?
Home’s a weekend we stoleHome's is awkward. You have NO meter so why not "home is"?
from summer, back tripping at rootsNice stuff but the parentheses are patronisingly informative. It is as if we don't get it and you do. If you must add information to a simplistic clause, use the 2 dash approach. It is one of the few truly useful times that dashes can be used. So:
Home is a weekend we stole from summer,
tripping at the roots of trees-
Grandmother Willows-
and back to the minutiae of moss. Your poem.
of trees (of Grandmother
Willows) back to the minutiae
of moss - don’t step on it -
birchwood's tender peeling.I confess I have no idea what you are trying to say here. Don't step on the moss, or the the birchwood is tender peeling or the peeling is of the Birchwood. There is a breakdown of sense here.
I’ve come back to hold you circled
in embraces, a green carpet
at your trunk and slender
trembling. Though the forest’sAgain, you have something half-formed which is reading OK for you but is far from OK for me. Is a "slender trembling" adjective-noun? If so or if not so, the modifier is nonsensical. This stanza starts out well but soon disintegrates. Help.
raw queer roar is calling, though lifeA raw queer roar is calling and yet in spite of this life is everywhere at once....that is what the "though" means. I cannot see what you see.You MUST read you work OUT LOUD to someone in a gay bar to get a second opinion
is everywhere at once,
for now, I’m at your feet begging
that you’ll smile. And you do....but such a nice ending. A good beginning ,too. It's that bit in the middle....
Best,
tectak

[lucentwavering]

Thankyou all so much for these wonderful comments! I'm going to start working on a new edit in which I prune down the gimmicky repetitive structures. I'm also going to get rid of the unnecessary contradictions, although I'd still defend the first 'but still'. In my mind, it is important because it recognizes the fear of mortality and contrasts it with the fact of being 'in the moment.' That 'but' is meant to contrast these opposing flux of dying/being, leaving/returning, future/present, etc. Or more concisely, 'you'll die, but here we are.' Does that make any sense in the context?
I also have to confess that in many ways, I'm aiming for a 'breakdown of sense.' I love the point when a poem breaks through the tangible surface of language, so I'll probably keep some of the more extreme phrasing.
I really appreciate the edits and the encouragement though. Cheers everyone!

[tectak]

Thankyou all so much for these wonderful comments! I'm going to start working on a new edit in which I prune down the gimmicky repetitive structures. I'm also going to get rid of the unnecessary contradictions, although I'd still defend the first 'but still'. In my mind, it is important because it recognizes the fear of mortality and contrasts it with the fact of being 'in the moment.' That 'but' is meant to contrast these opposing flux of dying/being, leaving/returning, future/present, etc. Or more concisely, 'you'll die, but here we are.' Does that make any sense in the context?
I also have to confess that in many ways, I'm aiming for a 'breakdown of sense.' I love the point when a poem breaks through the tangible surface of language, so I'll probably keep some of the more extreme phrasing.
I really appreciate the edits and the encouragement though. Cheers everyone!

You would do well to tell us when you are writing nonsense so that we do not crit it unfairly
Best,
tectak ( always quivered, cheers boarded, off by trembling slender)

[crow]

Proofread:

Lake Song
Grandma, give me your smile.
Grandma, give me your love and say
it will always last--lies [note: the UK dash is em -- em; the American is em--em]
of course; but, still, the sun is poised
to dive into the lake,
and we sit rippling at the dock.
Home’s a weekend we stole
from summer, back tripping at roots
of trees (of Grandmother
Willows) [consider rewriting. In my experience, parents in poetry are almost always better if recast w commas] back to the minutiae
of moss--don’t step on it--
birchwood's tender peeling. [I'd offer an edit, bc what you have here is a fragment. Without the parenthetical, it reads "of moss, / bircheood's tender peeling" which is confusing, and I can't see a payoff . . . ]
I’ve come back to hold you circled
in embraces, [as is, this is nonsensical. "I've come back to hold you that is circled "? I've come back circled . . . To hold you" ?] a green carpet
at your trunk and slender
trembling. [you are? The moss-which-isn't-you has?] Though the forest’s
raw, [equivalently weighted modifiers are separated by commas in a series] queer roar is calling, though life
is everywhere at once,
for now, I’m at your feet begging [this is a compound sentence without a conjunction . . .]
that you’ll smile. And you do. [consider moving "and you do" to a new line. This isn't a proofer comment, but unless it gets it's own line, the proofer's comment would be "kill the period, and join with a comma. Maybe that's just me . . .]

[ellajam]

Nice edit

Draft 2

Grandma, give me your smile,
your love, say it will always last -- last is ok, but I miss the break on "lies"
lies, of course; but still,
the sun is poised to dive
into the lake and we sit
rippling at the dock. I've grown to like "rippling"' wouldn't mind the break there
Home's a weekend we stole
from summer, back tripping
at tree roots -- Grandmother Willows;
back to the minutiae of moss
-- don't step on it; birchwood's. "tender" would make a lovely break
tender peeling. I've returned
to hold you circled in embraces,
a green carpet at your trunk
and slender trembling. Though the forest's
raw queer roar is calling. I'm still getting nothing from "queer"
and life is everywhere at once,
for now I'm at your feet
begging that you'll smile: you do. Perfect drop of "and", well done


Draft 1

Grandma, give me your smile.
Grandma, give me your love, and say
it will always last - lies
of course; but still, the sun is poised
to dive into the lake
and we sit rippling at the dock.
Home’s a weekend we stole
from summer, back tripping at roots
of trees (of Grandmother
Willows) back to the minutiae
of moss - don’t step on it -
birchwood's tender peeling.
I’ve come back to hold you circled
in embraces, a green carpet
at your trunk and slender
trembling. Though the forest’s
raw queer roar is calling, though life
is everywhere at once,
for now, I’m at your feet begging
that you’ll smile. And you do.

You've really pulled this together in your edit. I appreciate the work you've done here, lovely read.

[tectak]

Draft 2

Grandma, give me your smile,
your love, say it will always last -- This is a tricky sentence. I think it is punctuated as best it could be...but not as best as it should be. You avoid the conjunctive "and" at your peril. Can you bear to write "...give me your smile AND your love; say it will always (tautological)last(period)"?
lies, of course; but still, nonsensical conclusion. As oft' mentioned...er, by me.
the sun is poised to dive
into the lake and we sit
rippling at the dock. No. I still think the " but still" is misguided.
Home's a weekend we stole
from summer, back tripping
at tree roots -- Grandmother Willows;
back to the minutiae of moss
-- don't step on it; birchwood's I am stupid. Write for me
tender peeling. I've returned
to hold you circled in embraces,
a green carpet at your trunk
and slender trembling. Though the forest's Goodnight and merry Christmas. I am lost.
raw queer roar is calling
and life is everywhere at once,
for now I'm at your feet
begging that you'll smile: you do. I like this . The thorn in my paw has been pulled. Better, but only comparatively
Hello again,
Look, I am a bad judge...there are, for me, sand falls in plimsolls whilst sandwiches. Clean up the English...if you get my drift. It is not worthy to mangle language unless you are Wellllllsh...what DOES birchwood's tender peeling mean, and I am not asking because I am tender peeling?
Any root, cherry miscreant,
Breast,
tectak



Draft 1

Grandma, give me your smile.
Grandma, give me your love, and say
it will always last - lies
of course; but still, the sun is poised
to dive into the lake
and we sit rippling at the dock.
Home’s a weekend we stole
from summer, back tripping at roots
of trees (of Grandmother
Willows) back to the minutiae
of moss - don’t step on it -
birchwood's tender peeling.
I’ve come back to hold you circled
in embraces, a green carpet
at your trunk and slender
trembling. Though the forest’s
raw queer roar is calling, though life
is everywhere at once,
for now, I’m at your feet begging
that you’ll smile. And you do.