Missing the internet - edit #2

[just mercedes]

Edit #2 - thanks to all, maybe not finished yet



My web connection is down.
I can’t remember the name of that herb
Romans prized for mending bones –
they bound leaves tightly around the break,
picked up their shield and kept running.
 
I remember how it grew
under my quince tree. Unchecked,
it would smother
the clump of yarrow
and the blue bearded irises
under wide furry leaves.
A spike each spring of violet-coloured
triffid flowers. I can see drops of dew
on the petals, a sprinkle
of miniature crystal balls reflecting
a precisely inverted remembered world
 
but its name no longer responds.
 
I can even see a gardening book
that names it, on my shelf
in another country,
in a room that no longer exists,
in a memory that persists.
 
I can turn to page 432 and see the
picture but I can’t read the
caption underneath.
 
Is this how it begins? Breaks that
can’t be mended because the
name has gone?
 
 
 
 
 













Edit #1
 
 
What’s the name of that broad-leaved herb
Romans prized for mending bones –
you bound leaves tightly around the break,
picked up your shield and kept running?
 
I can see it growing in my old garden
under the quince tree, where it smothered
if unchecked the clump of yarrow
and the blue bearded irises
under flat furry leaves
that grew back each year
with a spike in spring of violet
triffid flowers. I can close my eyes
and see drops of dew, a sprinkle of
pearly diamonds reflecting
a precisely inverted world
 
but its name no longer responds.
 
I can even see the book on my bookshelf
in another country, in a room
that doesn’t exist any more
in a memory that still does.
 
I can turn to page 432 and see the
picture but I can’t read the
caption underneath. Is this
how it begins? Breaks that
can’t be mended because
the name has gone?
 
 
 
 
 










First draft


What’s the name of that broad-leaved herb
Romans prized for mending bones –
you bound leaves tightly around the break,
picked up your shield and kept running?
 
I can see in my old garden;
it spread like cancer if I was slow,
with a central spike in spring of
violet triffid flowers, quite small.
I can close my eyes and focus on
drops of dew, a sprinkle of hybrid
pearl/diamonds on wide furry leaves
regrowing each year under the quince
between the clump of yarrow
and the blue bearded iris
but its name has escaped me.
 
I can even see the book
in its place on my bookshelf
in another country, in a room
that doesn’t exist any more
in a memory that still does.
I turn to page 432 and see the
picture but I can’t read the
caption underneath. Is this
how it starts? Breaks that
can’t mend because
the words have gone?












 
 
 
 

[bena]

Hey sweetie, my attempt at crit, it's hard to critique you because you have a magic pen that spews perfection, but here goes.


What’s the name of that broad-leaved herb

Romans prized for mending bones –
you bound leaves tightly around the break,
picked up your shield and kept running? 

 
I can see in my old garden;
it spread like cancer if I was slow,
with a central spike in spring of
violet triffid flowers, quite small.
I can close my eyes and focus on
drops of dew, a sprinkle of hybrid
pearl/diamonds on wide furry leaves
regrowing each year under the quince
between the clump of yarrow
and the blue bearded iris
but its name has escaped me.
 
I can even see the book
in its place on my bookshelf
in another country, in a room
that doesn’t exist any more
in a memory that still does.
I turn to page 432 and see the
picture but I can’t read the
caption underneath. Is this
how it starts? Breaks that
can’t mend because
the words have gone?

Again, I was fussed at for ending on a question.  Honestly, when you are speaking in an introspective one-sided conversation, there will always be questions.  I love it, personally, the entire poem is a bit heavy on the adjective side, but I can't find fault with that, it gave me a clear picture of your garden.  I adore the juxtaposition of the living plants with the fragile transient memories we have.

Really really lovely piece.
I looked for your herb, but all I could find were grasses used to bind bones.  So I dunno dear.

love ya,
mel

[crow]

Proofers Edit

Missing the internet

What’s the name [for] that broad-leaved herb
Romans prized for [its use in] mending bones –
you bound leaves tightly around the break,
picked up your shield[,] and kept running?

I can see [it] in my old garden;
it [would] spread like cancer if I was slow,
[or: it spread like cancer [when] I was slow,]
with a central spike in spring of
violet triffid flowers, quite small [the spine, the flowers, or the plant?]
[from Wikipedia, "Since 1951, when The Day of the Triffids was first published, the word "triffid" has become a popular British English colloquial term for large, overgrown or menacing-looking plants." So, I'm worried your use here is in error . . .]]

I can close my eyes and focus on
drops of dew, a sprinkle of hybrid
pearl[en-dash. the slash means the dew is either pearl or diamond, perhaps alternately]diamonds on wide furry leaves
regrowing each year under the quince
between the clump of yarrow
and the blue bearded iris[es,]
but its name has escaped me [. . .]

I can even see th[at] book[,]
in its place on my bookshelf [,]
in another country, in a room
that doesn’t exist any more[,]
in a memory that still does.
I turn to page 432 and see the
picture[,] but I can’t read [its]
caption [out: underneath]. Is this
how it starts? Breaks that
can’t mend because
the words have gone?

Copyedit:

Missing the internet

What’s the name of that broad-leaved herb
Romans prized for mending bones –
you bound [the break] tightly with its leaves,
picked up your shield and kept running?

I can see it in my old garden,
spreading like cancer when I was slow,
its central spike [out: in spring]   [covered in]
violet triffid flowers, [replace quite small with a single adjective to brighten].
I can close my eyes and focus on
drops of dew, a sprinkle of hybrid
pearl/diamonds on wide furry leaves
regrowing each year under the quince
between the clump of yarrow
and the blue bearded iris
but its name has escaped me.

[And] I can [draw] the book
[from] [out: its place on, as understood] my bookshelf

--these lines are problematic. they are either irrelevant or overly cryptic:

in another country in a room
that doesn’t exist any more
in a memory that still does.

--the implication seems to be, "if the name if the plant were important and if the internet failed, even if I were to try, I couldn't find out the name." but I disfavor that read because there's no truth in it (a visit to the library would surely still be an option)
----for more on this, see the "aggressive copyedit to make the meaning more plain," below
--if the meaning is, instead, something like, "I get no search results when I google this plant in my brain," then what difference does the location and non-existence of the room make?
I turn to page 432 and see the
[is it a mistake to say, without comment, that despite not remembering the plant's name, you know what page the name is on? just throwing that out there]
picture but I can’t read the
caption underneath. Is this
how it starts? Breaks that
can’t mend because
[but that wouldn't be the situation, right? It'd be "breaks that can't be medicated with ancient Roman herb lore," right?]
the words have gone?
[this last line conflicts with the title. it implies that you're trying to Google the plant, while the title suggests you can't use the internet for some reason.]

Macro:
I take your thesis question to be, "If the internet were unplugged, would we be helpless?" But there's also a suggestion of emotional vulnerability that's quite pleasing. And the poem seems to interrogate the utility of names.
--There's a necessary assumption you might want to think about. It's that common Roman soldiers needed to know the plant's name in order to treat fractures. (Otherwise, your own forgetting of the name would be unimportant.)
----That assumption louses some things up, because it seems to not be true.
--The poem spends a lot of time avoiding its preoccupation. Instead if discussing the importance of the plant's name, it discusses its growing habits and one possible resource for finding that name. But does the plant's description matter for using or locating the plant? It isn't clear. (But if the answer is no, of course, the description of the plant is unnecessarily elaborate.)
--to illustrate, I've made your good poem into a bad poem, but the revision may help explain, in fewer words than a more elaborate macro comment, some of the issues w the poem.

--overly aggressive copyedit to make the meaning more plain

Breaks in the internet

It was that broad-leaved herb . . .
The one Roman bonesetters bound
broken legs with before
you picked up your gladius and ran back into battle . . .

In my old garden, it would sprawl malignantly, starving its neighbors.
A central stalk of violet triffid flowers, quite small, blossomed vernally . . . It was . . .
Water beaded on its furry, hydrophobic leaves in pearly diamonds . . .
It was perennial. It was independent.
It liked to grow between
the clump of yarrow and the blue bearded irises . . .
it was . . .

Is this how it starts? Breaks that
can’t be mended now  
the names are gone?

I want that one book--
the one . . . I kept it high on my bookshelf,
the one in my room on that street . . .
the one in that country I grew up in . . .
On page . . . 432? . . . I can see its
picture but not the caption . . .

[just mercedes]

Thanks bena and crow - lots to think about.

[crow]

It's a really great piece!

[just mercedes]

It's a really great piece!

Thank you for your close reading - you really helped me to see where the poem didn't work, and why. I'll come back to it again - I like the way your final suggestion sort of trails off, and I think that could really work here. I'll think more about it.

My mother had vascular dementia, but the effects of Alzheimers are the same - the world drifts away from you because you lose the names of things. This poem reflects my terror of this happening to me, prompted by forgetting the name of a herb at a time when the web was down. I could reconstruct the whole world of this plant, I could see it, feel it, even smell it, but I could not remember its name.

The name is comfrey, by the way.

[milo]

Edit #1
 
 
What’s the name of that broad-leaved herb
Romans prized for mending bones –
you bound leaves tightly around the break,
picked up your shield and kept running?

For some reason "leaved" sounds funny to me instead of "leafed" but I am sure that is a dialect thing.  There is an odd third person/second person thing that is rather distracting - "Romans prized . . . you bound leaves" instead of the more expected "Romans prized . . . they bound" which makes me question the need for pronouns at all instead of just using the participle.  I think the first 2 lines are effective but the last 2 may need some work to make them read natural as well as to tie them stronger to your metaphor.

 
I can see it growing in my old garden
under the quince tree, where it smothered
if unchecked the clump of yarrow
and the blue bearded irises
under flat furry leaves
that grew back each year
with a spike in spring of violet
triffid flowers. I can close my eyes
and see drops of dew, a sprinkle of
pearly diamonds reflecting
a precisely inverted world

The first sentence here is rather long and complex.  I wonder if there might be a better way to separate the independent clause - perhaps and em dash or colon instead of the comma splice. "Where it smothered if unchecked" feels rather wordy and clumsy.

 
but its name no longer responds.
 
I can even see the book on my bookshelf
in another country, in a room
that doesn't exist any more
in a memory that still does.

"book on my bookshelf" - hmm, I wonder if you would consider just "book on the shelf"
another consideration-
 . . . in a room
that no longer exists
and a memory that still does"
which would economize and push the line break onto exist which seems important from "more" which doesn't.

 
I can turn to page 432 and see the
picture but I can’t read the
caption underneath. Is this
how it begins? Breaks that
can’t be mended because
the name has gone?
 
 

the line breaks in this section seem almost deliberately wrong but I can't figure out the reasoning behind them which means they may not be meeting your intent:
the - the -this - that
all words you would normally avoid breaking on.
I think the concept is great.  I was struggling the other day to bring a word to mind and I never got it and it is a little scary at first wondering if this is giong to be the norm now.
Thanks for posting.
 
 
 
 

[just mercedes]

Thanks milo.

[crow]

yes! to the new edit

[just mercedes]

milo - those line breaks were trying to chop up the lines, show groping for the words. I'll think about changing them though.

[milo]

milo - those line breaks were trying to chop up the lines, show groping for the words. I'll think about changing them though.

I think it can be difficult to convey groping for words.  For me, I couldn't differentiate between the deliberately poor line breaks signifying the groping and the undeliberate poor line breaks I run across on this site daily but perhaps it works for other readers.