I'm quickly discovering the magic of revision. Here is the first draft of a haiku I'm trying to "make work." Please bear in mind that I chose to this particular form because I want the concentration in the tone, even though the subject matter is not the norm.
Bones beneath the skin
Shimmers as ice on the like
Warm as the cabbin
It didn't have the coherency I wanted, so I move some words around.
Warm as the cabbin
Shimmering ice on a lake
Bones beneath the skin
I wanted to incorporate more of the weather inspired, seasonal elements so I tried to make the bones less predominate.
Warmth from the cabbin
Like bones hovering beneath
Shimmers on the lake
Still, I'm not satisfied with my current draft. I'm looking for words to secure the content but ease the subject matter into the message. The idea is convey an image of the light reflecting off the ice in the same way light bounces off bones hovering beneath the skin. Imagine a mother's hands. That's a lot to accomplish, I know, but poetry is about creation. I want this message in this form. Now I need the best words to convey it.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Friday, February 5, 2010
Open Mouth Insert Foot
At some point everybody makes a comment that acquires blank stares and inappropriate giggles. Sometimes it takes a long time to laugh about certain incidents. One time, I was enjoying my afternoon at a friend's horse facility and her farrier was present. David, the farrier, was in his early forties, and I couldn't help but notice he wasn't wearing a ring. I ask "David, you're a young guy. If you don't mind my asking, are you married?"
He responds in an exaggerated drawl, "Ohhhh no. I went through that rodeo once and I ain't ever doin' it again."
I took this to mean he had experienced a rather unpleasant divorce. I muster all my tact to approach the subject, and respond with, "What? Was she a bitch?" At this point my darling friend pipes up with a bewildered look upon her face. She replies to my question on his behalf "No, Ashley, she's dead. she died of a brain tumor." I began to cry. I cried inconsolably for hours, stuttering apologies. They both laughed and assured me the situation wasn't as bad as it sounded. Jesse passed roughly ten years prior to my inserting both size ten point five shoes into my mouth. I learned a valuable lesson that day: keep your mouth shut, and never ask personal questions until you know someone for more than five minutes.
He responds in an exaggerated drawl, "Ohhhh no. I went through that rodeo once and I ain't ever doin' it again."
I took this to mean he had experienced a rather unpleasant divorce. I muster all my tact to approach the subject, and respond with, "What? Was she a bitch?" At this point my darling friend pipes up with a bewildered look upon her face. She replies to my question on his behalf "No, Ashley, she's dead. she died of a brain tumor." I began to cry. I cried inconsolably for hours, stuttering apologies. They both laughed and assured me the situation wasn't as bad as it sounded. Jesse passed roughly ten years prior to my inserting both size ten point five shoes into my mouth. I learned a valuable lesson that day: keep your mouth shut, and never ask personal questions until you know someone for more than five minutes.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
The Beginning of a Stanza Piece
Unholy Occurrence
It was more than a loss of life endured
The self lets go the spirit follows
Across the bridge are footsteps heard
Fear like blood washed the Hollows
Women, children, not one spared
Civil war commands men to garner
A village dissolved in the same nightmare
Terrorized by a spirit darner
And then I drew a blank. A long one. The legend of the Headless Horseman is a favorite story of mine, and I wished to retell it in my own words, in my own way. The historic setting is perfect, I feel, for the abab cdcd etc. form. However, this version of the tale is more closely related to the 1999 Tim Burton film than the 1820 story by Washington Irving. The first two lines refers to the fact that it was a spiritual force that drove the horseman to act. In the film, a woman possessing his skull controlled the murders, though the town felt they were at random. The idea of random killings, by a spirit, raises the town into an uproar. The men watch for the big black horse in shifts and are ready to attack. In the legend, the crossing of the bridge is the gateway of the unknown; the hessian soldier (in Irving's story) turns into a skeleton upon crossing. I'm looking to complete the tale but the two stanzas almost feel complete to me. Suggestions are most appreciated.
It was more than a loss of life endured
The self lets go the spirit follows
Across the bridge are footsteps heard
Fear like blood washed the Hollows
Women, children, not one spared
Civil war commands men to garner
A village dissolved in the same nightmare
Terrorized by a spirit darner
And then I drew a blank. A long one. The legend of the Headless Horseman is a favorite story of mine, and I wished to retell it in my own words, in my own way. The historic setting is perfect, I feel, for the abab cdcd etc. form. However, this version of the tale is more closely related to the 1999 Tim Burton film than the 1820 story by Washington Irving. The first two lines refers to the fact that it was a spiritual force that drove the horseman to act. In the film, a woman possessing his skull controlled the murders, though the town felt they were at random. The idea of random killings, by a spirit, raises the town into an uproar. The men watch for the big black horse in shifts and are ready to attack. In the legend, the crossing of the bridge is the gateway of the unknown; the hessian soldier (in Irving's story) turns into a skeleton upon crossing. I'm looking to complete the tale but the two stanzas almost feel complete to me. Suggestions are most appreciated.
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