Angles
and austere equations
plotted on nature's paper:
white flesh and perpendicular veins beneath
grey-on-gold leaves biting into branches slicing
into desiccated trunks carving into tired earth digging into--
smoke.
Autumn smoke curves achingly up,
towards distant cloud wisps.
Wood sparse and damp;
there's only smoke without the fire.
Wood holds back, receding behind wet moss and
cautious smoke creeps lowly,
embracing worldly memories
of swings and children and leaf hills,
and misplaced dreams like autumn air that stings.
Heavy is the smoke that aches
to transcend from pyre,
and curve into the sky.














Comments
Chocobo said he liked it!
"Angles
and austere equations
plotted on nature's paper:
white flesh and perpendicular veins beneath
grey-on-gold leaves biting into branches slicing
into desiccated trunks carving into tired earth digging into--
smoke."
You might also want to check out [link] if you havn't already; it's a site focused towards poets and I basically live on there lol (:
--
to avoid criticism,
do nothing,
say nothing,
be nothing.
personally, i'd rather be someone than no one.
wouldn't you?
I haven't been to that site, but I'll definitely check it out, it looks quite good- I used to be on fictionpress.net before I thought a change of scenery would be good and came to dA.
--
to avoid criticism,
do nothing,
say nothing,
be nothing.
personally, i'd rather be someone than no one.
wouldn't you?
There is vivid imagery well crafted throughout the poem. The only problem is, I can't connect the images evoked. I like the modern paper hiding within a tree, but don't register the significance. I like a "leaf hill" in lieu of raking leaves, but again, don't comprehend a connection. I see smoke plumes rising - like from campfire or from diesel machinery - but it doesn't yield anything other than the image. It could be my fault for over-reaching for connection and meaning.
Smoke reoccurs throughout the piece, so it must be significant to the meaning. I just can't divine its roll. The first time it appears in the poem, I'm jarred.
Also, in the first stanza the description after the colon is a painful run-on. Painful to read aloud that is. If you want it to be a run-on, that is your right, but I thought it would move better with commas and some repetition (leaves biting into branches, branches slicing into trunks, trunks ...). I nearly pause at the verbs anyhow; the commas would only affirm the way it is spoken. The reader has to take a breath somewhere in that continuation, where do you want it?
There seems to be some regret - about the process of getting paper, perhaps in the poem, but it doesnt belong to anyone. There is nothing I can attribute the feeling too. I almost want to give it to nature, but cant. I see nature as the protagonist, but cant find an antagonist. People appear in mathematical references, swinging children, and raked leaves, but that is not enough for me to view them as a culprit. Ive got a pent up dissatisfaction after reading the piece, but nothing to discharge it at. Does that make sense?
Smoke, whatever it represents, can never be a cloud. Smoke dissipates, clouds coalesce, so whatever transformation is being sought cannot be achieved. There has to be something more to it that I dont see. Wherever the smoke is coming from has to be, in some sense, impure. Im left wondering, what is the cause of the aches?
--
~D
--
a voice inside my head breaks the analogue.
~Judas130
On reflection, I realised that I wasn't satisfied with the poem, and as you pointed out correctly, the connections between the images are tenuous at best. What I mean to say is that although the imagery is relevant in my mind, mostly because of personal meaning, this is not made clear. This is a difficult poem to categorise, and when I initially wrote it (oh, about two years ago), I think I had a number themes in mind.
In regards to the first stanza- thank you for that idea. I don't know why I didn't think of repetition. I originally removed the commas as I wanted it to be a run-on. I did want it to be awkward in the rigid, jutting kind of sense, coupled with the imagery of graphs plotted on graph paper, but most importantly, I wanted to convey a sense of urgency that bound the images into one. And your suggestion actually works (unlike mine, as even when I submitted the poem, I was least content with that part); the repetition keeps the motion of the imagery continuous (so the movement from leaves to branches to tree trunks to the earth).
As to the pent up dissatisfaction, well, I'm not sure exactly as to whether I could say that was a success or failure, as I did intend for the poem to end with an unspent frustration. The smoke represents several concepts, but two of the most notable (from a personal point of view) are that of nostalgia, the feeling that in all the autumn days you spent outside as a child you didn't understand the progression of time on a wider scale, or that you were carrying around with you your future, and when it was unwrapped it never seemed to match up to what you had imagined. The second concept is that of the frustration of writing not measuring up to the ruler I set out: the constrain of the paper margins, the rigidity of letters and words, and the ideas that recede into the recesses.
Thanks again for your insightful comment!
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