The Old Road Tree

[Stephanie]

Deleted

[John Galt]

The Old Road Tree

Those days buttered bread with moss,
a trick of the light telling me time

was a snail shell, not the leaking tap
dripping dry in the dark.

Elastic summers, where farmer’s hay
towered to warn us of broken ankles,

the winters where snow piled thicker
than my father’s spade, collapsed

with the old road tree in a missed storm.
The door to childhood flung

like a broken toy, leaving nothing
but the black and white space,

the fallen kite tangled at your feet.

Hello Stephanie. I think I got the gist of the first 4 lines, but the overall clarity of those lines did not gel for me; they were lost to abstraction in the way that they did not convey what it was the narrator was trying to impart. I can see "time" having "snail's" pace for instance but not "shell's" pace (if you get my meaning). The same goes for the "dripping" tap, does this donate that "time" is going fast?
if so I cannot see the connection easily.

Elastic summers, where farmer’s hay
towered to warn us of broken ankles,

"broken ankles" never came into it our thoughts when contemplating such things, and makes me wonder if any kid would consider such a thing.

The door to childhood flung
like a broken toy,

A door is "flung" open or closed, a "broken toy" would be "flung" away,
so I cannot quite grasp the true meaning of these lines.


I enjoyed the depth of snow being equated with your "father's spade".
I also like the summer hay "towering"

seeya. JG

[rowens]

The Old Road Tree

Those days buttered bread with moss,
a trick of the light telling me time

was a snail shell, not the leaking tap
dripping dry in the dark.


That sounds O.K.



Elastic summers, where farmer’s hay
towered to warn us of broken ankles,

It stops being as strong here. The broken ankles might have significance, and if so, that's that.

For no right away logical reasons, I thought something like

Elastic summers, where farmer hay
towered warning us


of winters where snow piled thicker
than my father’s spade, collapsed


No real logical reasons, you understand.


with the old road tree in a missed storm.
The door to childhood flung

like a broken toy, leaving nothing
but the black and white space,

A couple times I thought: blank and white space; but I was just thinking too much.


the fallen kite tangled at your feet.


None of what I said may matter much. It was just my feelings and thoughts reading it only a couple times. Maybe I should read it more and more from and into it.

[Erthona]

There are some nice images here, however the whole is a bit disjointed. The way it is written, it gives the reader little to grasp on to and care about, and this misstep at the end "like a broken toy, leaving nothing but the black and white space," so even if you had reeled them in with nostalgia, you would lose them there.

Best,


Dale

[Stephanie]

Thank you, you've it on an issue I am struggling with right now which is that things I write that make sense to me are not translating to all the normal people out there! I think I will pop this one in a drawer for now and work on something a bit simpler.

[kindofahippy]

Hello Stephanie, interesting poem. While the theme isn't clear, I can see flashbacks to diverse nature scenes in this poem, with a climax in the loss of a parent to death or divorce, which does fling the door to childhood open, leaving a kid exposed to the coldness of the outside world.

The meter is very haphazard, and it makes reading this poem an exercise in curls for my tongue. The abrupt iamb to trochee in lines one and two, at "DAYS BUTtered" and "LIGHT "TELLing", trips my lips as I read. I'm not sure I see what those lines mean either, unless it describes telling direction from the moss on a tree.

Stanza 2: Line 2 is a nice use of alliteration, with the logical flow of a drying dripping darkened pipe. But do tell, considering the line placement, is the snail shell supposed to be dripping dry or is it just a trick of the light that tells time?

S3 has "Elastic summers", which instantly brings up this image of the Texas panhandle. I agree with the above, remove the distracting "broken ankles" and it flows into the next line, like snow.

S4 "which collapsed", followed by S5 "like the". In S5, why did a tree and a shovel collapse in a missed storm?

Between S5 and S6, it feels like you have more to get out on the page. The dissonance between a door flung open and a flung toy is like the dissonance between abusive childhood and the grief of losing mom or dad. From this perspective, the last two lines are a chilling image.

[Stephanie]

Thank you, I wasn't trying to write in any metre but I will look at that when I give this another go later down the line. Lots of helpful points to consider, brilliant thank you!