May Day, M'aide. edit 0.01 ella,todd, erthona

[tectak]

The sun has lost; the gloss of day
has weathered into grieving gloom.
Wind-whipped, the ravens scull the air;
a raucous ride on swell of storm.

Against glass-grey, proud clouds parade,
plucked and unravelled from below
by fussing fingers' nervous tugs
until threadbare, the bladders burst
to stain the  bright horizon's line.

Pollen smokes from rape fields flailed,
near swathed by hail. Too early
for the seed to form, grim farmers eye
the acres lost and slip a sigh.
Familiar plight, but when to sow?
May Days were June days years ago.

tectak
May 2015

[Leah S.]

The sun has lost; the gloss of day
has weathered into grieving gloom.
Wind-whipped, the ravens scull the air;
a raucous ride on swell of storm.

Against glass-grey, great clouds parade, I'm pretty sure I get this (at least I got a strong image) but I think it needs fine-tuning. The punctuation makes the meaning ambiguous.
plucked and unravelled from below
by fussing fingers' nervous tugs. great image, but it doesn't fit in the simile. Everything else fits beautifully into an image of oncoming storm, but this line turns the image surreal by injecting the image of human fingers plucking at the clouds. It took me to another place altogether and I had to fight to get back.
Until threadbare, the bladders burst
to stain the thin horizon's line.

Pollen smokes from rape fields flailed,
near swathed by hail. Too early
for the seed to form, grim farmers eye
the acres lost and sigh;
familiar though the sight may be,
this May Day makes a lasting memory.

tectak
May 2015

I like this poem very much. I'm a sucker for vivid, arresting images. Carry on. Leah

[Todd]

Tom,

I was reading this a lot yesterday, and was trying to decide if I had anything of value to add. I'm not sure if I do, but I'll try.

This poem seemed to speak of emotional loss and sadness reflected in the speaker's observations of nature. Here are some line comments.

The sun has lost; the gloss of day--I love the sonics in this line specifically how lost and gloss play off of each other. I also find this line pleasing because of the idea that day is like a cosmetic enhancement that the sun wears. That in some ways we can have a barren light that doesn't possess what we associate with day.
has weathered into grieving gloom.--Weathered is a very interesting word. Its like the sun has suffered erosion. This would suggest that this gloss was worn away over time slowly until one day it was gone. This is the idea of the speaker or observer coming to a moment of realization or epiphany. While I don't mind grieving gloom, and it probably doesn't require a change, grieving is a bit leading and it might work better with more subtlety--even if you lose the alliteration.  
Wind-whipped, the ravens scull the air;--I love the idea of ravens sculling the air. That is visual, beautiful language. Given that a raven might have an association with death or loss, it and other imagery like it might make the "grieving" word choice above unnecessary.
a raucous ride on swell of storm.--raucous would imply thunder to me, or I guess the noise of wind. I can accept this here though its bordering on being introduced a bit early.

Against glass-grey, great clouds parade,--Too many G's in succession here. I think great should be replaced with a substitute. Glass-grey is lovely. There's some part of me that would like to see glass used for more than just a color modifier. It just has a striking quality to it that might have more room to be developed.
plucked and unravelled from below
by fussing fingers' nervous tugs.--These two lines are interesting as if someone is pulling out the seams of the clouds so that they can release their payloads.
Until threadbare, the bladders burst--Love the image here, you develop it well.
to stain the thin horizon's line.--This is also pleasing diction

Pollen smokes from rape fields flailed,
near swathed by hail. Too early
for the seed to form, grim farmers eye
the acres lost and sigh;--The interesting part of these first few lines of S2 for me is the idea of barrenness.   Rain is usually thought of as something that leads to abundance, but as the speaker moves from sky to earth we have almost an animistic view of a capricious god or capricious fate. Instead of rain there is hail. Rape fields flailed can't help but give us a sense of violence and futility.
familiar though the sight may be,--I like this thought of general resignation to the cycles of life we expect. 
this May Day makes a lasting memory.--This line though is a bit of a let down as a conclusion. It's already in the title and it feels a bit too pat. I think you have a lot of great build up, and you sell yourself short on your conclusion. This is where I'd consider doing more work.

tectak
May 2015

I don't know how helpful any of that was, Tom. I hope there is something you can take from the comments and use.

Best,

Todd

[Erthona]

"The sun has lost; the gloss of day
has weathered into grieving gloom.  (Ah, knowing what is coming the alliteration is already being overplayed, this feels like a forced rhyme, except it is alliteration)
Wind-whipped, the ravens scull the air;
a raucous ride on swell of storm.  (Why "swell of storm" and not the swelling of the storm, or rather the "storm swells"? The way it is throws me out of the poem and it just feels awkward)

Against glass-grey, great clouds parade, (although Todd likes this it causes me to have to stop and figure out what this is suppose to mean. In the normal course of things wouldn't it be "glassy grey". Is this your attempt to practice "keening"? A practice from the Old Norse into the Old English where they would combine two words to create an image, such as "storm-road". Never was a fan. More of the same follows below)
plucked and unravelled from below
by fussing fingers' nervous tugs.
Until threadbare, the bladders burst
to stain the thin horizon's line.

Pollen smokes from rape fields flailed,
near swathed by hail. Too early
for the seed to form, grim farmers eye
the acres lost and sigh;
familiar though the sight may be,
this May Day makes a lasting memory."
___________________________________________________________
For me this was fatiguing. Having to climb through all of the alliteration (which I began to anticipate in the first read through) and word play. Maybe if it were not so obvious at first it would not have bother me so much later on where it does not seem quite so egregious, but there are four instances of alliteration in S1. Personally I think this pastoral (and yes I am aware of what is under this) is ruined by too much clever word play. Underneath all the fanciness is a good solid poem, but all this other ...stuff, kept distracting me from it. Of course it could just be me (as I know it often is from your viewpoint). I would offer more but I can't see the rape for the flailing fields! Or maybe the fields are flailing because they are rape? 

Sorry not much of a critique,

Dale

[tectak]

"The sun has lost; the gloss of day
has weathered into grieving gloom.  (Ah, knowing what is coming the alliteration is already being overplayed, this feels like a forced rhyme, except it is alliteration)
Wind-whipped, the ravens scull the air;
a raucous ride on swell of storm.  (Why "swell of storm" and not the swelling of the storm, or rather the "storm swells"? The way it is throws me out of the poem and it just feels awkward)

Against glass-grey, great clouds parade, (although Todd likes this it causes me to have to stop and figure out what this is suppose to mean. In the normal course of things wouldn't it be "glassy grey". Is this your attempt to practice "keening"? A practice from the Old Norse into the Old English where they would combine two words to create an image, such as "storm-road". Never was a fan. More of the same follows below)
plucked and unravelled from below
by fussing fingers' nervous tugs.
Until threadbare, the bladders burst
to stain the thin horizon's line.

Pollen smokes from rape fields flailed,
near swathed by hail. Too early
for the seed to form, grim farmers eye
the acres lost and sigh;
familiar though the sight may be,
this May Day makes a lasting memory."
___________________________________________________________
For me this was fatiguing. Having to climb through all of the alliteration (which I began to anticipate in the first read through) and word play. Maybe if it were not so obvious at first it would not have bother me so much later on where it does not seem quite so egregious, but there are four instances of alliteration in S1. Personally I think this pastoral (and yes I am aware of what is under this) is ruined by too much clever word play. Underneath all the fanciness is a good solid poem, but all this other ...stuff, kept distracting me from it. Of course it could just be me (as I know it often is from your viewpoint). I would offer more but I can't see the rape for the flailing fields! Or maybe the fields are flailing because they are rape? 

Sorry not much of a critique,

Dale

Hi dale,
Yes, as usual, I agree with you...not much of a critique
In order. The swelling storm I had in the original but figured that likening the air to the swell (storm water metaphor as the ravens were sculling) rather than trying to explain to you what a swelling storm comprised of was just unthinkable.
I confess to a comfortable surprise that "swathed" scraped by you. Flailed is a problem?
Alliteration substitutes for rhyme...or does it? I have some mixed feelings here but believe you are more right than wrong. I will look again as your opinion is always worthy.
I cannot claim clever wordplay but accept graspingly whatever crumbs are tossed my way so oooooo...tell me where I am clever
Best, Tectak
(it is not over)

---

The sun has lost; the gloss of day
has weathered into grieving gloom.
Wind-whipped, the ravens scull the air;
a raucous ride on swell of storm.

Against glass-grey, great clouds parade, I'm pretty sure I get this (at least I got a strong image) but I think it needs fine-tuning. The punctuation makes the meaning ambiguous.
plucked and unravelled from below
by fussing fingers' nervous tugs. great image, but it doesn't fit in the simile. Everything else fits beautifully into an image of oncoming storm, but this line turns the image surreal by injecting the image of human fingers plucking at the clouds. It took me to another place altogether and I had to fight to get back.
Until threadbare, the bladders burst
to stain the thin horizon's line.

Pollen smokes from rape fields flailed,
near swathed by hail. Too early
for the seed to form, grim farmers eye
the acres lost and sigh;
familiar though the sight may be,
this May Day makes a lasting memory.

tectak
May 2015

I like this poem very much. I'm a sucker for vivid, arresting images. Carry on. Leah

Thanks leah,
this was written in situ and simultaneously with real-time events...it is bound to be lacking!
The plucking away at the cloud base was the best I could do. Every now and then clouds dropped their contents of hail and/or rain in distant falling spouts as if something was plucking away at a bladder.That is all. I don't do complicated.
All crit devoured.
Thanks again.
Best,
tectak

---

Tom,

I was reading this a lot yesterday, and was trying to decide if I had anything of value to add. I'm not sure if I do, but I'll try.

This poem seemed to speak of emotional loss and sadness reflected in the speaker's observations of nature. Here are some line comments.

The sun has lost; the gloss of day--I love the sonics in this line specifically how lost and gloss play off of each other. I also find this line pleasing because of the idea that day is like a cosmetic enhancement that the sun wears. That in some ways we can have a barren light that doesn't possess what we associate with day.
has weathered into grieving gloom.--Weathered is a very interesting word. Its like the sun has suffered erosion. This would suggest that this gloss was worn away over time slowly until one day it was gone. This is the idea of the speaker or observer coming to a moment of realization or epiphany. While I don't mind grieving gloom, and it probably doesn't require a change, grieving is a bit leading and it might work better with more subtlety--even if you lose the alliteration.  
Wind-whipped, the ravens scull the air;--I love the idea of ravens sculling the air. That is visual, beautiful language. Given that a raven might have an association with death or loss, it and other imagery like it might make the "grieving" word choice above unnecessary.
a raucous ride on swell of storm.--raucous would imply thunder to me, or I guess the noise of wind. I can accept this here though its bordering on being introduced a bit early.

Against glass-grey, great clouds parade,--Too many G's in succession here. I think great should be replaced with a substitute. Glass-grey is lovely. There's some part of me that would like to see glass used for more than just a color modifier. It just has a striking quality to it that might have more room to be developed.
plucked and unravelled from below
by fussing fingers' nervous tugs.--These two lines are interesting as if someone is pulling out the seams of the clouds so that they can release their payloads.
Until threadbare, the bladders burst--Love the image here, you develop it well.
to stain the thin horizon's line.--This is also pleasing diction

Pollen smokes from rape fields flailed,
near swathed by hail. Too early
for the seed to form, grim farmers eye
the acres lost and sigh;--The interesting part of these first few lines of S2 for me is the idea of barrenness.   Rain is usually thought of as something that leads to abundance, but as the speaker moves from sky to earth we have almost an animistic view of a capricious god or capricious fate. Instead of rain there is hail. Rape fields flailed can't help but give us a sense of violence and futility.
familiar though the sight may be,--I like this thought of general resignation to the cycles of life we expect. 
this May Day makes a lasting memory.--This line though is a bit of a let down as a conclusion. It's already in the title and it feels a bit too pat. I think you have a lot of great build up, and you sell yourself short on your conclusion. This is where I'd consider doing more work.

tectak
May 2015

I don't know how helpful any of that was, Tom. I hope there is something you can take from the comments and use.

Best,

Todd

You are always helpful, todd.
The only excuse I have for the maudlin tone was the day shifting from sunshine to gloom.
If that affected the spirit of the piece then metaphorically I could admit to a lowering of joy
This is a real-time observed piece but I am continually surprised (and not displeased) by additional interpretations which readers can justify. I only wish I had that skill in writing by design rather than by accident.
Best,
tectak

[ellajam]

The sun has lost; the gloss of day
has weathered into grieving gloom.
Wind-whipped, the ravens scull the air;
a raucous ride on swell of storm.
I wouldn't change a thing here except the semicolon, beautiful start.

Against glass-grey, great clouds parade, Not a fan of the grey/great combo.
plucked and unravelled from below
by fussing fingers' nervous tugs. This made me stop to imagine and resulted in a clear image, I'd cut the period.
Until threadbare, the bladders burst
to stain the thin horizon's line. Thin is weak, it's hard to imagine a thick one.

Pollen smokes from rape fields flailed,
near swathed by hail. Too early
for the seed to form, grim farmers eye
the acres lost and sigh;
familiar though the sight may be,
this May Day makes a memory.This line reads weak although I cannot articulate why.

tectak
May 2015

Thanks for a good read, Tom, I hope the notes help a bit.

[tectak]

The sun has lost; the gloss of day
has weathered into grieving gloom.
Wind-whipped, the ravens scull the air;
a raucous ride on swell of storm.
I wouldn't change a thing here except the semicolon, beautiful start.

Against glass-grey, great clouds parade, Not a fan of the grey/great combo.
plucked and unravelled from below
by fussing fingers' nervous tugs. This made me stop to imagine and resulted in a clear image, I'd cut the period.
Until threadbare, the bladders burst
to stain the thin horizon's line. Thin is weak, it's hard to imagine a thick one.

Pollen smokes from rape fields flailed,
near swathed by hail. Too early
for the seed to form, grim farmers eye
the acres lost and sigh;
familiar though the sight may be,
this May Day makes a memory.This line reads weak although I cannot articulate why.

tectak
May 2015

Thanks for a good read, Tom, I hope the notes help a bit.

Good stuff ella.I will make subtle changes and credit. The end IS weak,but what to do?
Best,
tectak