A pocket full of field mice

[Keith]

Mother was too pale
to cough black, so Father
became the house;
a face of weathered granite
melded with stones, kept crooked
by the constant wind raging
off the moors.

I look to the fields and know
the scarecrow sees me,
he's been whispering.
When the weathervane turns,
his snakes hiss across the crops.
I don’t want to listen anymore
but the ground connects us.

I watch the walls at night, my back
to the flames, creatures come to dance
behind me. He told me not to turn
so I watch a life of shadows flying
with the sun and rain, straining
to see the subtleties.

He's moving closer to the house,
I call the children in from the washing line
they've been out all day, flapping like larks
on the breeze. I hold them to my cheek,
smell their folded hair.

He's outside the window now. I haven’t moved
for days. The house growls as the wind changes
direction. He's sitting at my table, insects sprawl
from his outstretched hands.

It only takes a touch;

I’m in the top field listening for two travelers
as they cross the moors; one is very weak
so I tell him he wont make the journey.
I move a little closer, knowing he can hear me.

[Lizzie]

Mmmmm, I like this one, Keith. It reads beautifully.

Mother was too pale
to cough black, so Father
became the house;
a face of weathered granite
melded with stones, kept crooked
by the constant wind raging
off the moors. -- description of the father's face is beautiful and awful. Well done.

I look to the fields and know
the scarecrow sees me,
he's been whispering. -- so creepy. Love it.
When the weathervane turns, -- Yes, a classic symbol of change
his snakes hiss across the crops. -- love the s sounds
I don’t want to listen anymore
but the ground connects us.

I watch the walls at night, my back
to the flames, creatures come to dance -- maybe be more specific about the kind of creatures, what they look like, etc.
behind me. He told me not to turn -- like this idea of the controlling scarecrow -- good way to show the fear
so I watch a life of shadows flying
with the sun and rain, straining
to see the subtleties. -- this line is too telly, I think. I'd put in something concrete, 'straining to see x, y, z'

He's moving closer to the house, -- like the feeling of the impending storm, calling the family in before it hits
I call the children in from the washing line -- some kind of punctuation is needed here at the end
they've been out all day, flapping like larks
on the breeze. I hold them to my cheek,
smell their folded hair. -- love folded and how that ties in with the clothesline

He's outside the window now. I haven’t moved -- again, good way to show fear, also a sense of helplessness
for days. The house growls as the wind changes -- I like growls. This line interests me because I think back, not only to the weathervane, but to the description of the father becoming the house. Leaves the reader pondering.
direction. He's sitting at my table, insects sprawl
from his outstretched hands. -- huge payoff here; horrifying, the stuff of nightmares. Just killer.

It only takes a touch; -- don't like the semi colon, since you have one at the end of the following line. I'd put in a full stop.

I’m in the top field listening for two travelers
as they cross the moors; one is very weak
so I tell him he wont make the journey.
I move a little closer, knowing he can hear me. -- I like the final stanza for what it is, but it was so hard for me to engage it after the shock of the previous stanza -- I'm in horror movie mode, and I just want to see how the story ends. It's hard to transition to a completely different scene.

The whole thing feels like a dream sequence. Great stuff. I'd just like to see the ending re-worked.

[Erthona]

Prose poetry, nice cadence.


Mother was too pale
to cough black, so Father
became the house; (Maybe a full stop here then, "He had the face..." as it tends to run on a bit.)
a face of weathered granite
melded with stones, kept crooked
by the constant wind raging
off the moors.

I look to the fields and know
the scarecrow sees me,
he's been whispering.
When the weathervane turns,  (might consider "wind vane" as it seems the movement of the wind is the primary conductor of change)
his snakes hiss across the crops.
I don’t want to listen anymore
but the ground connects us.

I watch the walls at night, my back
to the flames, creatures come to dance
behind me. He told me not to turn   ("He" who?)
so I watch a life of shadows flying
with the sun and rain, straining
to see the subtleties. (Is it the sun and rain that are straining to see the subtleties?   Plus "subtleties is not generally used in this way as it generally points to another noun, such as "the subtleties of the mind." Even though a noun, it usually does not stand by itself. In this case it begs the question "subtleties of what?")

He's moving closer to the house,
I call the children in from the washing line
they've been out all day, flapping like larks
on the breeze. I hold them to my cheek,
smell their folded hair.  (Very nice and spooky image)

He's outside the window now. I haven’t moved
for days. The house growls as the wind changes
direction. He's sitting at my table, insects sprawl
from his outstretched hands.  (A bit of horror cliche, but it seems to work anyway)

It only takes a touch;

I’m in the top field listening for two travelers (The speaker was in the house with the scarecrow and all of a sudden she is teleported to the top fields where the scarecrow is not and giving guide information???? It was a good story up 'til this point. Breaking the 4th wall would be better than this ending and I am certainly not recommending that.)
as they cross the moors; one is very weak
so I tell him he wont make the journey.
I move a little closer, knowing he can hear me.(is this suppose to be "can't hear me"?)

A fun read

Best,

dale

[burrealist]

Mother was too pale
to cough black, so Father (I wonder, is Father coughing black?)
became the house;
a face of weathered granite
melded with stones, kept crooked
by the constant wind raging
off the moors. (He must be a stoic man. He must be full of responsibility and its burdens. Excellent introduction.)

I look to the fields and know (I suggest using something other than "and" here, something that is open-ended like "I". You can elaborate the line and enhance the complexity as we've now come to the second stanza.)
the scarecrow sees me,
he's been whispering.
When the weathervane turns,
his snakes hiss across the crops.
I don’t want to listen anymore (Excellent connection, now there's a relationship between you and the scarecrow simply by repeating the word "listen". Since his relationship is now established, I'm given reason to believe there is a more subtle relationship between the scarecrow and your parents. Maybe the relationship of silence, so you are calling out for them to listen. I hope this repeated word and this suggested relationship is foreshadowing something to come.)
but the ground connects us.

I watch the walls at night, my back
to the flames, creatures come to dance
behind me. He told me not to turn
so I watch a life of shadows flying
with the sun and rain, straining
to see the subtleties. (As am I now straining to see the subtleties.)

He's moving closer to the house,
I call the children in from the washing line
they've been out all day, flapping like larks
on the breeze. I hold them to my cheek,
smell their folded hair. (Is this stanza meant to feel rushed or paced slowly? Saying the scarecrow is moving closer excites me and the way these words flow, it feels like you're racing to bring the children inside. Then you end with smelling their hair, so now I'm conflicted, because that's a rather serene thought. Is this conflict intentional?)

He's outside the window now. I haven’t moved
for days. The house growls as the wind changes
direction. He's sitting at my table, insects sprawl
from his outstretched hands.

It only takes a touch;

I’m in the top field listening for two travelers
as they cross the moors; one is very weak
so I tell him he wont make the journey.
I move a little closer, knowing he can hear me. (So the foreshadowing earlier lead to a rather unpredictable turn of events. I'm shaken now the events have lead me this way. This poem is very dark and very personal. I'm also confused by how elusive these travelers seem. Are they the children you were protecting, are they new faces for your parents? Are they new characters all-together? This will entice me to journey through the poem again. The mystery, I think, is appropriate. I also feel like this poem was not given a proper resolution. Was that deliberate? I can understand feeling no personal resolution given what I believe is the subject-matter. So maybe these two characters at the end are supposed to remain strangers. I don't know! Overall, I am very inspired by this work and I hope you continue to write.)

[Keith]

Mmmmm, I like this one, Keith. It reads beautifully.

Mother was too pale
to cough black, so Father
became the house;
a face of weathered granite
melded with stones, kept crooked
by the constant wind raging
off the moors. -- description of the father's face is beautiful and awful. Well done.

I look to the fields and know
the scarecrow sees me,
he's been whispering. -- so creepy. Love it.
When the weathervane turns, -- Yes, a classic symbol of change
his snakes hiss across the crops. -- love the s sounds
I don’t want to listen anymore
but the ground connects us.

I watch the walls at night, my back
to the flames, creatures come to dance -- maybe be more specific about the kind of creatures, what they look like, etc.
behind me. He told me not to turn -- like this idea of the controlling scarecrow -- good way to show the fear
so I watch a life of shadows flying
with the sun and rain, straining
to see the subtleties. -- this line is too telly, I think. I'd put in something concrete, 'straining to see x, y, z'

He's moving closer to the house, -- like the feeling of the impending storm, calling the family in before it hits
I call the children in from the washing line -- some kind of punctuation is needed here at the end
they've been out all day, flapping like larks
on the breeze. I hold them to my cheek,
smell their folded hair. -- love folded and how that ties in with the clothesline

He's outside the window now. I haven’t moved -- again, good way to show fear, also a sense of helplessness
for days. The house growls as the wind changes -- I like growls. This line interests me because I think back, not only to the weathervane, but to the description of the father becoming the house. Leaves the reader pondering.
direction. He's sitting at my table, insects sprawl
from his outstretched hands. -- huge payoff here; horrifying, the stuff of nightmares. Just killer.

It only takes a touch; -- don't like the semi colon, since you have one at the end of the following line. I'd put in a full stop.

I’m in the top field listening for two travelers
as they cross the moors; one is very weak
so I tell him he wont make the journey.
I move a little closer, knowing he can hear me. -- I like the final stanza for what it is, but it was so hard for me to engage it after the shock of the previous stanza -- I'm in horror movie mode, and I just want to see how the story ends. It's hard to transition to a completely different scene.

The whole thing feels like a dream sequence. Great stuff. I'd just like to see the ending re-worked.

Hi Lizzie
Thank you for your comments, yes the creatures dancing is open to interpretation, i will have a think, I agree semi colon needs to go and I also understand about the last stanza, not sure it works well enough to get my ideas over so will have another look, many thanks for the help Keith

---

Prose poetry, nice cadence.


Mother was too pale
to cough black, so Father
became the house; (Maybe a full stop here then, "He had the face..." as it tends to run on a bit.)
a face of weathered granite
melded with stones, kept crooked
by the constant wind raging
off the moors.

I look to the fields and know
the scarecrow sees me,
he's been whispering.
When the weathervane turns,  (might consider "wind vane" as it seems the movement of the wind is the primary conductor of change)
his snakes hiss across the crops.
I don’t want to listen anymore
but the ground connects us.

I watch the walls at night, my back
to the flames, creatures come to dance
behind me. He told me not to turn   ("He" who?)
so I watch a life of shadows flying
with the sun and rain, straining
to see the subtleties. (Is it the sun and rain that are straining to see the subtleties?   Plus "subtleties is not generally used in this way as it generally points to another noun, such as "the subtleties of the mind." Even though a noun, it usually does not stand by itself. In this case it begs the question "subtleties of what?")

He's moving closer to the house,
I call the children in from the washing line
they've been out all day, flapping like larks
on the breeze. I hold them to my cheek,
smell their folded hair.  (Very nice and spooky image)

He's outside the window now. I haven’t moved
for days. The house growls as the wind changes
direction. He's sitting at my table, insects sprawl
from his outstretched hands.  (A bit of horror cliche, but it seems to work anyway)

It only takes a touch;

I’m in the top field listening for two travelers (The speaker was in the house with the scarecrow and all of a sudden she is teleported to the top fields where the scarecrow is not and giving guide information???? It was a good story up 'til this point. Breaking the 4th wall would be better than this ending and I am certainly not recommending that.)
as they cross the moors; one is very weak
so I tell him he wont make the journey.
I move a little closer, knowing he can hear me.(is this suppose to be "can't hear me"?)

A fun read

Best,

dale

Hi Dale thanks for the feedback on this one, I will have a closer look at the punctuation as you suggest, not sure about wind vane as not heard it call that before could be a UK USA thing, The he is picking up on the previous stanza about the scarecrow but that didn't come across so Ill have a think. I see you too struggled with the ending and its understanding so I guess I need to have a proper look. Thanks again Keith

---

Mother was too pale
to cough black, so Father (I wonder, is Father coughing black?)
became the house;
a face of weathered granite
melded with stones, kept crooked
by the constant wind raging
off the moors. (He must be a stoic man. He must be full of responsibility and its burdens. Excellent introduction.)

I look to the fields and know (I suggest using something other than "and" here, something that is open-ended like "I". You can elaborate the line and enhance the complexity as we've now come to the second stanza.)
the scarecrow sees me,
he's been whispering.
When the weathervane turns,
his snakes hiss across the crops.
I don’t want to listen anymore (Excellent connection, now there's a relationship between you and the scarecrow simply by repeating the word "listen". Since his relationship is now established, I'm given reason to believe there is a more subtle relationship between the scarecrow and your parents. Maybe the relationship of silence, so you are calling out for them to listen. I hope this repeated word and this suggested relationship is foreshadowing something to come.)
but the ground connects us.

I watch the walls at night, my back
to the flames, creatures come to dance
behind me. He told me not to turn
so I watch a life of shadows flying
with the sun and rain, straining
to see the subtleties. (As am I now straining to see the subtleties.)

He's moving closer to the house,
I call the children in from the washing line
they've been out all day, flapping like larks
on the breeze. I hold them to my cheek,
smell their folded hair. (Is this stanza meant to feel rushed or paced slowly? Saying the scarecrow is moving closer excites me and the way these words flow, it feels like you're racing to bring the children inside. Then you end with smelling their hair, so now I'm conflicted, because that's a rather serene thought. Is this conflict intentional?)

He's outside the window now. I haven’t moved
for days. The house growls as the wind changes
direction. He's sitting at my table, insects sprawl
from his outstretched hands.

It only takes a touch;

I’m in the top field listening for two travelers
as they cross the moors; one is very weak
so I tell him he wont make the journey.
I move a little closer, knowing he can hear me. (So the foreshadowing earlier lead to a rather unpredictable turn of events. I'm shaken now the events have lead me this way. This poem is very dark and very personal. I'm also confused by how elusive these travelers seem. Are they the children you were protecting, are they new faces for your parents? Are they new characters all-together? This will entice me to journey through the poem again. The mystery, I think, is appropriate. I also feel like this poem was not given a proper resolution. Was that deliberate? I can understand feeling no personal resolution given what I believe is the subject-matter. So maybe these two characters at the end are supposed to remain strangers. I don't know! Overall, I am very inspired by this work and I hope you continue to write.)

Hi burrealist
Thanks for taking the time to read and comment. Its Mother that coughs black, glad S1 works, good suggestion about the and, maybe 'Out in the fields I know' something for the edit. Sorry but not sure what you mean about the repeated word? The Children are not children just madness but I guess again this stanza isn't working well enough so I will look into that. You are not alone in that the end doesn't make sense., in my head it is about the N becoming death swapping places with the scarecrow finding the next person to die. But this doesnt seem to be coming across so I will have another look. Many thanks for the feedback Keith

[Franklin'sMan]

Hi Keith,

This poem gives me nice images and plenty to think about. As I read it a few times I'm struck by the mystery of what's going on. It seems the speaker is kind of losing it. Perhaps there is something supernatural going on here. But I'm not sure - and I think I could read this many times and always be a little on the outside of the meaning, which isn't something I consider a strength of any poem. 

For example, I don't understand the connection between the mother being unable to cough black (what does that mean - 'cough black')  and the father becoming the house. The becoming the house, to me, suggests he took on the burden of sheltering the children - including the speaker. 

Then in the second stanza we learn of the scarecrow. This development of the scarecrow in stanzas 2, 4 and 5 lead into the last stanza, which suggests the speaker is now in the scarecrow's position. The 3rd stanza has an unclear reference to 'he', which seems likely to be the father from the beginning. I thought I understood this stanza, except where would the sun and the rain come from if these are shadows?

Anyway, before I ramble, I must say the overall meaning seems to me that the speaker lost his mother, the father took up the burden of caring for the speaker, but suffered some failing of character which has caused mental harm to the speaker who, as the poem moves forward, becomes a father himself. Eventually, the mental trouble takes the form of a sinister scarecrow - and we see the speaker succumb to his delusion. 

I can't help worry I've got it wrong, though. As for concrete suggestions, how bout resolving the uncertainty of 'he' in stanza 3, and tweaking the first image in stanza 1, about the mother.

Additionally, I found the word selection and cadence to be pleasing. No real qualms there on my part.

[Keith]

Hi Keith,

This poem gives me nice images and plenty to think about. As I read it a few times I'm struck by the mystery of what's going on. It seems the speaker is kind of losing it. Perhaps there is something supernatural going on here. But I'm not sure - and I think I could read this many times and always be a little on the outside of the meaning, which isn't something I consider a strength of any poem. 

For example, I don't understand the connection between the mother being unable to cough black (what does that mean - 'cough black')  and the father becoming the house. The becoming the house, to me, suggests he took on the burden of sheltering the children - including the speaker. 

Then in the second stanza we learn of the scarecrow. This development of the scarecrow in stanzas 2, 4 and 5 lead into the last stanza, which suggests the speaker is now in the scarecrow's position. The 3rd stanza has an unclear reference to 'he', which seems likely to be the father from the beginning. I thought I understood this stanza, except where would the sun and the rain come from if these are shadows?

Anyway, before I ramble, I must say the overall meaning seems to me that the speaker lost his mother, the father took up the burden of caring for the speaker, but suffered some failing of character which has caused mental harm to the speaker who, as the poem moves forward, becomes a father himself. Eventually, the mental trouble takes the form of a sinister scarecrow - and we see the speaker succumb to his delusion. 

I can't help worry I've got it wrong, though. As for concrete suggestions, how bout resolving the uncertainty of 'he' in stanza 3, and tweaking the first image in stanza 1, about the mother.

Additionally, I found the word selection and cadence to be pleasing. No real qualms there on my part.

Thank you for taking the time to read and comment Franklinsman I will have a think about your comments and see what works for the edit. best Keith