The house where I lived as a child could only be accessed by a short path. On one side was the cemetery, on the other a large spooky house in its own grounds (later became an old peoples home) There were no street lights so I would run as fast as I could from one end to the other. Now I live next door to a converted chapel with cemetery and it doesn’t bother me at all.
I do love your descriptions in this, the scary setup of what’s to come, only to find that that awful silence is worse than anything you could have imagined.
It’s odd how the mind works, Gillian. In the dark the imagination runs wild and we see danger when there is none. Once we are familiar with particular surroundings we become more blasé and nothing fazes us anymore.
Our memories are certainly our treasure and should never be lost to us. You describe such a devastating loss in a way that anyone can understand. I think the line that really speaks to me is “Early casualties are words;” because you know there’s far worse to come.
I seem to recall reading this on UKA sometime ago. It’s too long ago to see how the re-write has improved it, but it’s still made me chuckle at her cheeky obsession.
Thanks, Guaj, I have the original saved – my early stuff was written purely to perform – since that is done with now – at my age possibly forever – I see how the performance aspect militated against good writing – you can get away with anything if you present it confidently – and I generally did – however what pleases a live audience can irritate a silent ‘paper’ one – and nuances and gestures do not translate easily to paper. Hence my re-writings – most of my long ones are now 30% shorter but still pack in the same detail – it’s all about the aero-dynamics ha ha 🙂
If live performances rise from the dead I will probably use my early incarnations – I revel in being a bad stroppy actor (onstage) 🙂
Nice to hear from you, Daffni. It must be fifteen years since we met at the launch of my first poetry collection in Shotton. I wonder if you remember. Sorry to learn about your problem with the eyesight. I wish you well.
The tone of the poem had to be spooky, given the occasion.
Luigi x
haha, well that is another name for them. I think we are all getting heart sick of everything to be honest. The world is in chaos.
Best to stay indoors with a good book, some soothing music and the devil take the rest!
I am riding a trough at the moment. Like, I’m into a book that quite evidently I am going to read again AND make notes next time: Not conducive to living the dream. The music (everything) is being interrupted by the cats, and every time I see the Devil stalking I shout out a warning but no-one takes a blind bit of notice. Apart from that I am at peace (perhaps that should read ‘pieces’?) (*is there an emoticon for tongue in cheek that is clear?*)
The white storm it stirred up deposited ice crystals on his eye-brows and trim salt and pepper beard while he watched it struggle out of its self-made maelstrom.
Perhaps : “As he watched it struggle upwards the white storm it stirred up deposited ice crystals on his eyebrows and trim ‘salt and pepper’ beard.
Thanks Bh,
No doubt they will come to light someday in the same way as Mammoths do.
I have to admit I’ve re-written that sentence several times and also the whole opening paragraph. It is so important to get opening paras right. I’m reasonably happy with it now, but every time I look at it I can’t help tinkering with it. It’s like when you finish a painting. The fact is, you never really finish it.
G
PS I just thought of this grrr!:
Ice crystals clung to his eye-brows and trim salt and pepper beard as he watched it struggle out of it a self-made maelstrom.
I need to think about how that might fit in. I’d really like your opinion on that.
Lovely, Daff. The poem is suffused with love and sadness.
I try not to fear but as I see myself often forgetting words, it does haunt me at times. Not for now but rather for some future date. 🙁
Alison x
Me, I’ve been six days trying to paint these leopard spots on this donkey, but the paint won’t stick. I’m beginning to think it is futile – a bit like expecting truth from a politician.
🙁
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