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Thread: On the Sidewalk Are the Ghosts of Leaves

  1. #1
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    On the Sidewalk Are the Ghosts of Leaves

    I step on winter
    sidewalk ghosts of leaves
    ripped from their spindled limbs
    by cold Peachtree winds, crushed
    under their own wet weight,
    and somehow scraped away.
    Their perfect images
    remain crisp, etched
    onto cement slabs, but colorless,
    dark and haunting
    like the punishing memory
    of the night you tumbled
    down into his arms
    instead of nesting warm
    in mine. I foolishly thought
    them gone--our haunted past,
    your walk, your wintergreen
    kiss, a wisp of red and golden hair--
    banished with frozen,
    breathless recognition.

    I want to dream of strolling
    under fragrant white clouds
    of dogwood blossoms,
    head floating on the warm
    pillow of spring, toeing carefully
    among happy dogs and children
    intent only on funnel cake, or a corn dog.
    The yeasty taste of cold beer
    on my tongue. Beautiful insulation.

    But it is winter
    and I must walk
    over the graves
    of these fallen things,
    these gone and ugly things,
    and I am haunted. So I turtle down,
    turning up my collar
    against the icy wind
    that sneaks under my shirt,
    down my back, into the place
    where your memory hides
    beneath my skin, freezing
    the breath in my chest,
    curled deep, cold and hidden.
    I quicken my step, and hurry
    into the train station.
    Last edited by Jarndyce; 05-04-2006 at 09:27 AM.

  2. #2
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    I would appreciate some comments, good bad or otherwise.

  3. #3
    Vincit Qui Se Vincit Virgil's Avatar
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    Overall I liked it. The second and third stanzas are very nice, almost perfect. I had trouble with the beginning and I almost gave up. I like the first line, but then "cold Peachtree winds", what's that? "crushed
    under their own wet weight," what is, the ghost leaves? Do ghost leaves have any weight? I know you might feel that's an unfair question, but frankly the whole metaphor doesn't work for me. Or it's going over my head. What's not going over my head is this line: "like the punishing memory/
    of the night". It's way over dramatic for a subtle situation. And this line is not great either: "our haunted past". That's a fairly established cliche.

    But take heart. Your second stanza I found beautiful. Here;'s a particularly excellent passage:
    toeing carefully
    among happy dogs and children
    intent only on funnel cake
    And you're third stanza is quite good too. I always like it when someone starts a transition with the word, "but." I don't think people realize how poerful a little word that is. And I particularly like this passage:
    freezing
    the breath in my chest,
    curled deep, cold and hidden.
    So in my opinion, you need to rework the first stanza.
    LET THERE BE LIGHT

    "Love follows knowledge." – St. Catherine of Siena

    My literature blog: http://ashesfromburntroses.blogspot.com/

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    So much imagery going on in this poem. You lost me at the Peachtree.

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    What I mean is that I would like to see you develop(importance, meaning) the images in your poem.

  6. #6
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    Revision, please comment, if you will.

    Winter Sidewalk

    I step on winter sidewalk
    stains of fallen leaves
    torn from spindly cherry limbs
    by cold Peachtree winds,
    perfect, crisp reminders
    of one summer’s brittle end
    I’d foolishly hoped forgotten:
    wisps of your red and golden hair,
    your walk, your wintergreen kiss.

    I want to dream of strolling
    under fragrant white clouds
    of dogwood blossoms,
    head floating on the warm
    pillow of spring, toeing carefully
    among happy dogs and children
    intent only on funnel cake, or a corn dog.

    But it is winter
    and I must walk
    on the graves
    of these fallen things,
    these gone and ugly things.
    So I turtle down,
    turning up my collar
    against the icy wind
    that sneaks under my shirt,
    down my back, into the place
    where your memory hides
    buried beneath my skin, freezing
    the breath in my chest,
    curled deep, cold and hidden.
    I quicken my step, and hurry
    into the train station.
    Last edited by Jarndyce; 05-04-2006 at 09:30 AM.

  7. #7
    Suzerain of Cost&Caution SleepyWitch's Avatar
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    personally, i liked the first version better, never mind that ghost leaves don't have any weight.. logic and poetry are two different kettles of fish.
    also it could be the weight of the leaves that decayed into ghost leaves, so the weight bit would refer to the actual leaves before they became ghosts and they became ghosts because they were crushed under their own wet weight... or whatever...
    I think the first half of the first stanza of the first version is better than in the second version, but then the dark and haunted stuff is a bit cliched...

    I like the Peachtree winds...got no idea what they are, but they sound nice. you can understand the poem as a whole without them, so there's no need to chop them. or maybe you can't but then you can still get enough meaning from the other lines, so.... wafflewafflewaffle

    poems that have lots of botany in them normally make me puke, but this is really different

    hehe, Virgil is a veteran cliche basher he's always (rightly) pointing them out but then he also complains that really creative phrases make no sense, he does it to my poems all the time

  8. #8
    I prefer the first for the most part. I liked the image of the images etched into the slabs which you removed. I knew exactly what you were talking about.

    I'm not sure I would like a wintergreen kiss though. My granny used to put that stuff on her bad leg.

  9. #9
    Suzerain of Cost&Caution SleepyWitch's Avatar
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    i didn't know wintergreen is stuff you can put on your legs i thought it was a new word... i agree that it sounds weird though...

    hey, i love your first title "On the sidewalk are the ghosts of leaves".. actually the only reason i'm posting is coz i just came back to this thread to read the title again

  10. #10
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    I'll be back with a revision hoping to eliminate the cliche but restore some of the originally posted version, but first wanted to put this out there for those here that are not from the US. Please note that I think it ill-advised to try to explain your work to those who are commenting on it, but I feel it necessary.

    Wintergreen is a type of mint here in the US, typically found in Livesavers candies, etc., that is sort of a soft spearmint flavor.

  11. #11
    Suzerain of Cost&Caution SleepyWitch's Avatar
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    hehe, it makes for an interesting effect though, coz the word will convey totally different meanings to those who know wintergreen lifesavers and those who don't/aren't native speakers of (American) English and are too lazy to look it up
    maybe those who know about it will feel there's a contrasts between the red and golden hair and the wintergreen kiss, because the description of the hair sounds so romantic and stuff.. i mean it's like the hair is naturally beautiful, wheras the wintergreen kiss may be a bit tacky, seeing as a lady with beautiful hair might be expected to exhale the essence of rose petals or something without any artificial aids, whereas lifesavers are much more realistic....
    whereas non-native readers who dunno about this brand of candy may feel that "wintergreen" sounds very mysterious and symbolic or something... hehee...
    hum, so it depends on whether you want to reach both groups or not...

    er, ya whatever [/waffle] I'm looking forward to your next revision

  12. #12
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    Again, comments are appreciated

    On the Sidewalk Are the Ghosts of Leaves

    I step on winter
    sidewalk ghosts of leaves
    torn from spindly cherry limbs
    by cold Peachtree winds, crushed
    under their own wet weight,
    and somehow scraped away.
    Their perfect images
    remain crisp, etched
    colorless into cold cement slabs,
    small reminders of a brittle autumn
    foolishly hoped forgotten:
    wisps of your red and golden hair,
    your walk, your wintergreen kiss,
    the cooling night you tumbled
    down into his arms
    instead of nesting warm
    in mine.

    I want to dream of strolling
    under fragrant white clouds
    of dogwood blossoms,
    head floating on the warm
    pillow of spring, toeing carefully
    among happy dogs and children
    intent only on funnel cake, or a corn dog.

    But it is winter
    and I must walk
    on the graves
    of these fallen things,
    these gone and ugly things.
    So I turtle down,
    turning up my collar
    against the icy wind
    that sneaks under my shirt,
    down my back, into the place
    where your memory hides
    buried beneath my skin, freezing
    the breath in my chest,
    curled deep, cold and hidden.
    I quicken my step, and hurry
    into the train station.

  13. #13
    Are not the ghosts you must bear a heavy matter?

    I step on winter
    sidewalk ghosts of leaves
    ripped from their spindled limbs
    by cold Peachtree winds
    are perfect words - but, without any explanation of the reference to peach tree, you might want to mention (without explaining) other things (maybe one per verse) that are of a single thread of significance with it. As long as you have one token in mind, with each verse, of the whole theme, these will help you to determine what will work in the framework of each verse, as a unifying principal for each.

    Just a thought.

    I liked the lines and phrases - but thought that just a few tucks and tightenings here and there would be the means to a nearby perfect end.

  14. #14
    The Forgotten Muse water lily's Avatar
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    Jarndyce,

    Your third version is good. I'm so glad you revived that first stanza. I know exactly what you were describing in it. In the late fall, right around November, a cement walkway at my University gets covered in hundreds of brown leaf imprints--the leaves are gone, but these imprints--these shadows--these proofs of their existence--remain. They always seemed to me like they ought to mean something, or like I was missing that subtle message they were trying to convey. I love the meaning you give them in this poem.

    I also love the line: "so I turtle down". It's the perfect image, and so true to life.

    I really like this poem. I probably didn't get half of the meaning you were trying to convey in it, but I feel like I understand it completely. Maybe it needs a little work. Nothing is perfect. But you can only rework a thing so many times. I am satisfied with it as it is. It made me smile.
    "What is it all but a trouble of ants
    In the gleam of a million million of suns?"

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