Highland Clearance - edit

[dukealien]

Highland Clearance


I heard a bagpipe chorus just last night–
its droning parts, at least, resounded there
in key of G, not fuzzy-pure or bright
but fitting for a highland sunset air.

These being U.S. hills, they’re mechanized:
Hispanic laborers each shouldering
his racket-buzzing blower, deputized
to blast cut grass from walks that evening.

Their melody – did I parse notes to groans
or hear those workers' efforts and transpose
to music from their engines' lilting moans?
Who cares? It passed my time to night’s repose.

original version;

I heard a bagpipe chorus yesternight--
its droning parts, at least, resounded there
in key of G, not fuzzy-pure or bright
but fitting for a highland sunset air.

This being 'cross the Pond, it's mechanized:
some contract laborers each shouldering
his petrol-burning blower, deputized
to clear cut grass from walks this evening.

Their melody – did I fit notes to groans
or hear those workers' efforts translated
to music from their engines' lilting moans?
Who cares? It passed my time to night and bed.

A little drive-by silliness.  Worth improving?

[ambrosial revelation]

Hi Duke, nice concept here. First stanza is the best for me and sets the poem up nicely. Not too sure about the use of 'yesternight' although the archaic language fits in with the title. Second stanza seems a tad clumsy and doesn't flow as well as the first, also there may be an issue with tenses, the first line of the 1st stanza is in past tense and the first line of the 2nd stanza is in present tense. The last line was a bit of a shock, it seems like you just gave up on the idea.
Overall I like it, the idea of hearing melodies in machinery and creating music in your head. The play on words with the title works well although I was expecting something different. I was hoping the last stanza was going to reconnect with the title in some way, perhaps it's worth a thought, something like possibly hearing the same melody that was heard back in the highland clearances.

Just a few thoughts, it's my first critique for a couple of years so I'm a bit out of practice.

Cheers for the read,

Mark

ps - I live in the highlands
pps -  When I hear the bagpipes I reach for my pistol 

[just mercedes]

Hi - and yes, worth working on for sure!

I'm struggling to put the stress on the final syllable of 'translated' sorry but I like the conceit of the poem, the music formed from stimulus and memory at the edge of sleep. Maybe the 'yesternight' feels a bit out of place with 21st century blowers, but the contrast is strong.

And also, after three rhyming stanzas, I'm looking for the sonnet's final lines.

First critique for ages, sorry if I've forgotten how.

[dukealien]

edit1;

I heard a bagpipe chorus just last night–
its droning parts, at least, resounded there
in key of G, not fuzzy-pure or bright
but fitting for a highland sunset air.

These being U.S. hills, they’re mechanized:
Hispanic laborers each shouldering
his racket-buzzing blower, deputized
to blast cut grass from walks that evening.

Their melody – did I parse notes to groans
or hear those workers' efforts and transpose
to music from their engines' lilting moans?
Who cares? It passed my time to night’s repose.

---

Thanks to both critics, and delighted to see you both back - with fine critiques for a rather silly poem.

I've made changes to sort of address the criticisms (in particular, to eliminate translaTED).  Hope they add some interest to the middle stanza.

@ambrosial - I think I've got the verb tenses whipped into shape.

@just mercedes - hope the change to zap that ill-stressed translat-ed didn't mess up the ending too much.  Speaking of which, no final couplet because this can't be a sonnet - no romantic interest  .

@both - concerning the title

Yes, I was thinking of the highland clearances after the '45 - which that pistol-for-pipers p.s. suggests at least one of you was on the winning side of.  A bit wicked, true.  But are pistols allowed in the People's Republic of Scotland these days?  Are little black stocking knives, even?

Just returned from a vacation through the purportedly plague-ridden South again.  People masked with a shrug.  Personally, I had a week's medical emergency of an embarrassing and painful nature, but all's well now.  Probably.  Got some poems out of it - better than this, too.

[ambrosial revelation]

Nice edit. The second stanza works so much better now, I particularly like the specific detail of Hispanic workers which adds something extra to the poem. Also the last line works better now, it must have been the fact that it didn't rhyme that bothered me and not the sentiment which I now think works well.

Cheers,

Mark

Don't have any allegiances as regards Highland Clearances, but I do have an aversion to bagpipes hence my pistol quote which was a take on a Stephen Hawking quote, "When I hear about Schrodinger's cat I reach for my pistol".  I don't mind hearing bagpipes when I'm in the hills, it's just when they're on the high street surrounded by tourists... then I reach for my pistol. Alas no pistols allowed these days, however it is true that you can carry a knife down your sock for the sake of tradition. 

[crow]

What’s weird about modern labor is the lack of music. 

Forever and ever, music coordinated hard labor, a notion lost to time. So, the replacement of bagpiper drones with leafblowers droning is a real loss. I’d argue a terrible loss. 

I think you’ve stumbled into something deeply worthwhile, maybe worth an epic.

[dukealien]

What’s weird about modern labor is the lack of music. 

Forever and ever, music coordinated hard labor, a notion lost to time. So, the replacement of bagpiper drones with leafblowers droning is a real loss. I’d argue a terrible loss. 

I think you’ve stumbled into something deeply worthwhile, maybe worth an epic.

Stumbled, indeed, since I had no inkling when I wrote it (g).

Seriously, when I see/hear Hispanic workers (generally construction workers) they almost always have a loud radio going with Mexican music - frequently more tuneful and romantic than anything but US Country&Western, but not with a beat the work actually falls in time with. There are shouted comments to each other, but the noise is asynchronous pneumatic nailguns and a little electric sawing. Field work, that could be done in time to a song, exists only in mechanized form, mostly landscape maintenance. Running a stand-on or large ride-on mower is a solo enterprise, so the only scope for steps-in-time and synchronization is blowing the leaves and cuttings away.

Which is to say, you may be on to something there!