Through the Window Light

[tectak]

edit 000.00001 Christophersea, jeremy

Crack the rosy dawn with curses; curdled cream swings udders full
and veined to burst. He whistles up his sun-crazed collie,
bark the dog
bark the day
bark away.
Greened up beaded scented miles, sods cling clumped on ten ton boots,
agape around his crusted uppers, flapping, slapping, stepping, morn.
stomp the land
stomp the clay
stomp away.
Whistling up the wound meander, swirled as wind shift; moored to ground
by patched and puddled silver rivets; nailed by ghastly leant, bent tree tacks.
slap the fly
slap the calf
slap away.
Rough as ash bark wooden fingers tease the polyester knots from wire
to hoist the hinge's slackened sockets, dry as rust on iron pins.
swing the gate
swing the teats
swing away.
Harboured, held by hauling sucklers, frothed in glass the moon-dropped milk
swirls to rage against the vacuum; dog done driving drops to down.
calling cock
call the hour
call away.
tectak
2014

[ChristopherSea]

This is a bucolic piece, but very detailed Tom. It reminds me of a class trip to Wawa Dairies that I went on in grade school. I remember that udder-tugger contraption, like a giant distributor cap. You have a typo: ‘whistles’. I will take another look after coffee and see if I have any other useful critique. I like it./Chris
Thanks for this Chris,
It is a little Captain Beefheart but I must have had something other than the lowing herd on the morning (this morning at 6:30) milk run when I penned this...open window...dawn chorus...distant barking etc. I just cannot think what it is. All to the good, I'm sure.
That typo...bugger. Credit. Done.
Best,
tectak

[jeremyyoung]

The couplets would work better if they were rhyming and with balanced meter - the second half of each line is running away from the first. And the first line feels unconnected from the second. By putting them to together and established a rhythm you would get the sound of the milking machine.

It might be an issue with the formatting, but the refrain would look nice if they were indented. Also instead of 'bark away' etc, bark, bark, bark away etc would keep the rhythm thing going.
I hate you all
Yes, of course, you are exciting the bit of brain that must have joined me in this one. There WAS a certain something that this reminded me of. Is plagiarism OK if you cannot remember where you read it? Captain Beefheart had a similarity in a distant and obscure lyric where he repeated the refrain (it was a song, after all) to syncopate the thing....me, I am just trying to write something against my own grain. Wheel out your petards. Take aim.
I will eat everything you say and see what comes out....er....later.
Thanks for the ideas.
Best,
tectak

[billy]

for me, there's not a lot i can suggest as to improvements, i got stuck o the one line. i like the glut of word filled lines. i expect some will not. i like the chorus, it sort of wakes up the thought of poem and the countryside.
wish i could help more

edit 000.00001 Christophersea

Crack the rosy dawn with curses; curdled cream swings udders full
and veined to burst. He whistles up his sun-crazed collie,
bark the dog
bark the day
bark away.
Greened up beaded scented miles, sods cling clumped on ten ton boots,
agape around his crusted uppers, flapping, slapping, stepping, morn.
stomp the land
stomp the clay
stomp away.
Whistling up the wound meander, [the 1st half of this line is an excellent image]swirled as wind shift; moored to ground
by patched and puddled silver rivets; nailed by ghastly leant, bent tree tacks. [the latter half of this line cleaned my brain out ] i couldn't work it out
slap the fly
slap the calf
slap away.
Rough as ash bark wooden fingers tease the polyester knots from wire
to hoist the hinge's slackened sockets, dry as rust on iron pins.
swing the gate
swing the udders
swing away.
Harboured, held by hauling sucklers, frothed in glass the moon-dropped milk
swirls to rage against the vacuum; dog done driving drops to down.
calling cock
call the hour
call away.
tectak
2014

[tectak]

for me, there's not a lot i can suggest as to improvements, i got stuck o the one line. i like the glut of word filled lines. i expect some will not. i like the chorus, it sort of wakes up the thought of poem and the countryside.
wish i could help more

edit 000.00001 Christophersea

Crack the rosy dawn with curses; curdled cream swings udders full
and veined to burst. He whistles up his sun-crazed collie,
bark the dog
bark the day
bark away.
Greened up beaded scented miles, sods cling clumped on ten ton boots,
agape around his crusted uppers, flapping, slapping, stepping, morn.
stomp the land
stomp the clay
stomp away.
Whistling up the wound meander, [the 1st half of this line is an excellent image]swirled as wind shift; moored to ground
by patched and puddled silver rivets; nailed by ghastly leant, bent tree tacks. [the latter half of this line cleaned my brain out ] i couldn't work it out
slap the fly
slap the calf
slap away.
Rough as ash bark wooden fingers tease the polyester knots from wire
to hoist the hinge's slackened sockets, dry as rust on iron pins.
swing the gate
swing the udders
swing away.
Harboured, held by hauling sucklers, frothed in glass the moon-dropped milk
swirls to rage against the vacuum; dog done driving drops to down.
calling cock
call the hour
call away.
tectak
2014

Hi billy are you back in the Phillys?
Thanks for your time. That line you got stuck on....you mean line one? It was udders, you know, not tits. (Oh god, I can hear erthona blaspheming his way through the spring crocii....one mention of tits and he is out like the genie of the lamp)
Breast,
Tectak

[billy]

it ws the third couplet (i forgot to bold the bugger ) still in the freezing cold uk...there was ice on windscreen this morning. i know what udders mean you mushroom

for me, there's not a lot i can suggest as to improvements, i got stuck o the one line. i like the glut of word filled lines. i expect some will not. i like the chorus, it sort of wakes up the thought of poem and the countryside.
wish i could help more

edit 000.00001 Christophersea

Crack the rosy dawn with curses; curdled cream swings udders full
and veined to burst. He whistles up his sun-crazed collie,
bark the dog
bark the day
bark away.
Greened up beaded scented miles, sods cling clumped on ten ton boots,
agape around his crusted uppers, flapping, slapping, stepping, morn.
stomp the land
stomp the clay
stomp away.
Whistling up the wound meander, [the 1st half of this line is an excellent image]swirled as wind shift; moored to ground
by patched and puddled silver rivets; nailed by ghastly leant, bent tree tacks. [the latter half of this line cleaned my brain out ] i couldn't work it out
slap the fly
slap the calf
slap away.
Rough as ash bark wooden fingers tease the polyester knots from wire
to hoist the hinge's slackened sockets, dry as rust on iron pins.
swing the gate
swing the udders
swing away.
Harboured, held by hauling sucklers, frothed in glass the moon-dropped milk
swirls to rage against the vacuum; dog done driving drops to down.
calling cock
call the hour
call away.
tectak
2014

Hi billy are you back in the Phillys?
Thanks for your time. That line you got stuck on....you mean line one? It was udders, you know, not tits. (Oh god, I can hear erthona blaspheming his way through the spring crocii....one mention of tits and he is out like the genie of the lamp)
Breast,
Tectak

[ChristopherSea]

Tom, a couple other observations on a second pass: 'ghastly leant, bent tree tacks' was a bit of a tongue-twisting-meter-beater on the second read. See what you think. If you love it, let's blame my problems with it on billy (just saw his comment while typing this ). I was wondering if you would consider substituting swat for slap. I like swat the fly and the stomp/swat/swing sound progression is nice. Can you 'call(s) the cock' to keep in line with the other 'transitional chants'? I still like it and enjoyed the flashback. Have a great one./Chris

[jeremyyoung]

writing against your own grain? I thought that wasn't allowed... it leads to accusations of psy....

It's all grist to the mill, and I don't want to grind you down, or encourage floury language....

but if you want to write something against type, just do it. Who's stopping you? What's the worst thing that can happen? Some douche will say something nasty to you. And you'll probably learn something.