Rediscovering the lost poetry of childhood

[Ca ne fait rien]

Revision 10-10-2011 further edit to S2 11-10-2011

in the concrete rockpools
of wave-worn beach defences
tumbled pill boxes, tank traps,
I cradle fossilised fish scales
sea glass, the bones of dinosaurs
stanzas from prehistory
held in my palm.




Church bells ring a sailor’s knell
six fathoms deep
wrecked ships
rot under marker buoys.

Once, a man
walking the coast road to Out Newton
morning-times
saw the head-ends of coffins
protruding from the muddy cliff, jutting
out over the seething water below
brass plates glinting like gold teeth
sand-martins perched on vacant handles



and the kittiwakes shrill like children
collecting bones from the clay



Revision 10-10-2011








original post

[b]in the concrete rockpools
of wave-worn beach defences
I cradle fossilised fish scales
sea glass, the bones of dinosaurs
images from prehistory
stanzas trapped in pebbles
in my palm.

The rush of tides batter homes and barns
land crumbles like confidence, wind stings
splashes my face ruddy with expectation
of a future where time does not matter.

Church bells ring a sailor’s knell
six fathoms deep
next to the ship wrecks out there
where sea meets sky.
Once, a man
walking the coast road to Out Newton
morning-times
saw the head-ends of coffins
protruding from the muddy cliff, jutting
out over the seething water below
sand-martins perched on vacant handles
brass plates glinting like gold teeth


and the kittiwakes shrill like children
collecting bones from the clay
laying down the empirical truths
that will mould the texture of found souls.

[billy]

Hi stef;

in the concrete rockpools
of wave-worn beach defences
I cradle fossilised fish scales
sea glass, the bones of dinosaurs
images from prehistory
stanzas trapped in pebbles love this line and the poetry metaphor
in my palm.

The rush of tides batter homes and barns
land crumbles like confidence, wind stings
splashes my face ruddy with expectation you like the word Ruddy
of a future where time does not matter.

Church bells ring a sailor’s knell
six fathoms deep
next to the ship wrecks out there would a comma work after wrecks,?
where sea meets sky. cliché
Once, a man
walking the coast road to Out Newton
morning-times
saw the head-ends of coffins
protruding from the muddy cliff, jutting
out over the seething water below
sand-martins perched on vacant handles
brass plates glinting like gold teeth great image, i wonder if "brass plated" would work better


and the kittiwakes shrill like children i really like the strength of this line
collecting bones from the clay
laying down the empirical truths
that will mould the texture of found souls. the last two line for me feel weaker than the rest of the poem, i think they don't work well.

everything above are just suggestions apart from the cliché remark
normally i would suggest the cutting out of packing words, but here it all works well. some good internals going on which help the flow of the poem. The narration feels lively. the last line felt as though you tacked them on to finish the poem. the use of stanza being a metaphor as part of history is incredibly clever

thanks for the read.

[Philatone]

Hey Ca ne!
I apologize that right now I don't have time to do a whole lot, but I read it quickly and so much came to me I wanted to get something down now

in the concrete rockpools--I really like the word, but do you need concrete here?
of wave-worn beach defences ---was not expecting that word there, nice
I cradle fossilised fish scales
sea glass, the bones of dinosaurslovely S's in these surrounding lines
images from prehistory I think a more descriptive word than "images" would be possible here, but it's ok with me
stanzas trapped in pebbles I like the play here, with the word "stanzas" surrounded by so many rocks and pebbles and things in this actual stanza! having a rock image right before would make it even stronger
in my palm.

wow, there is a lot of rock and stone imagery here! I like those images so much

The rush of tides batter homes and barns
land crumbles like confidence, wind stings
splashes my face ruddy with expectation
of a future where time does not matter. I get these images, but i feel that I have heard them before. One idea is to play with line breaks here to kind of mimic the destruction and crumbling; right now, it looks pretty regular. that might give it something a little fresher

Church bells ring a sailor’s knell
six fathoms deep
next to the ship wrecks out there---do you need "there?"
where sea meets sky.here is another chance to play with form. With church bells ringing, adding a little meter to copy their song would be interesting, especially contrasting with the previous stanza. I also feel that this section alone could be a stanza if you wanted.
Once, a man
walking the coast road to Out Newton
morning-times
saw the head-ends of coffins
protruding from the muddy cliff, jutting beautiful enjambment with "jutting" doing just that, and literally standing the line "out over the..."
out over the seething water below
sand-martins perched on vacant handles
brass plates glinting like gold teeth


and the kittiwakes shrill like children
collecting bones from the clay
laying down the empirical truths
that will mould the texture of found souls.

I feel this poem is a lovely playground for playing with forms and breaking them down/ building them up again. Nice images, dramatic as well. I may have gone too far with some suggestions (and apologize for it), but I saw a lot here. thanks for the read.

[Ca ne fait rien]

Thanks Billy and Philatone-
Some food for thought for revision there- I think I will lose the last two lines on the next edit- I was not sure of them,and re- reading see them as a bit preachy and meaningless on reflection. Cheers Billy.

Philatone- thanks I will have another look at line breaks- I see a few already that would work better, Thanks for the suggestions- there can never be too many suggestions.

[billy]

i am enamoured with the new guys (as well as the old one )
not because they use suggestion, but because they're prepared to at least think about them.

thanks for brightening my day stef

[only rob]

I enjoyed the imagery here, and the somehow sweet somberness of it. My only niggles were dealt with in your edit. Good stuff.

Rob

[billy]

what a brave edit to remove a stanza, and for me it works better without it.
i also think the edit to the last four limes help improve the piece. i'll change my mind about the cliche remark (sea and sky)
it reads well within the poem and to be honest i can't think of a suggestion to improve it.

great edit stef.

[Leanne]

Stef, I can't believe I missed this one the first time round... I really wasn't paying attention around this time, it appears

I'm very impressed with the changes you've made on editing, but most of all I just love that you've managed to weave so many elements together to form a complete picture. I am left with something of a catharsis, thinking that perhaps "poetry" is found in the wondering rather than the knowing -- the image of wrecked ships particularly sets me on a track of "who was on the ships/ how did their families cope/ what cargo was lost/ what secrets are lost forever?" etc.

Oh, and "stanzas of prehistory" is just gorgeous.

If you're still around, come back, we miss you!

[Erthona]

This is a nice piece.

Dale