Moving Day

[lallison]

see below

[Hawkman]

Gosh, I love this poem lall. I've read it three times already and it gets better with every visit. Not only is it beautifully descriptive the comment on the absence of materialistic trappings and the sense of place are outstanding. Welcome back matey!

Best, H

[PrinceMyshkin]

Everything in this is honoured and celebrated, but "resting in the loneliness beneath it all" was for me the killer line in all this glorious profusion.

[Bar22do]

lall, your quiet zen-like nostalgia remains balanced through this beautiful poem, even if, as Edmond Haraucourt's song has it:

Song of Farewell

To part is to die a little
To die to what we love
One leaves a little of one's self
In every hour and in every place

It is always the mourning of a wish
The last verse of a poem
To part is to die a little
To die to what we love

And one leaves, and it's a game
And until the final farewell
With one's soul one makes
One's mark at each goodbye
To part is to die a little

I love how you unify in time: present, future, past, dream time.... a gently rippling lake on which from your bark you farewell and greet ...

Lovely reading (and re-reading!) lall, and I'm sure the place you're going to will soon feel home, for it seems to me that you enjoy an infallible connection with your inner self...

Best of all - Bar

[lallison]

Thanks for taking the time to read and comment.

Hawk: Thanks as well for taking the extra time to reread. I tried to add a little extra meaning into every line, even the listed items. My intention was for most of them to work beyond personal allusion, although since I tend to write autobiographically, that's always part of it too. I guess for me, and for others perhaps too, my own poems contain more than i could really expect a reader to perceive since so much is personal, but it's always my hope to make small parts of me available. Glad you were able to find a little more each time you went through it. It's makes me feel good that you said that.

PM: I whole heatedly agree with your observation. "resting in the loneliness beneath it all" is a very meaningful line for me as well. Glad to have such a thoughtful reader going over this.

Bar: Your comments are gentle, sensitive, and perspicacious as always. Thanks for the poem too, it was a lovely one with quite a similar theme. What I love most about your comments is your ability to see who I am through the poem itself, which is ultimately my goal in self expression, and your achievement as a talented reader.

My shipment arrived last Friday and I'm settling into the new place nicely. Peace.

[lallison]

I've spent a lot of time revising this poem. My major focus has been on creating lyricism. I wanted to share with you the updated version in hope of getting some feedback. Feel free to speak your mind.

Moving Day

When moving day came,
four tawny men called at the door,
then walked in.
They cased my aged computer, frayed with wear,
removed the flat screen LCD,
bound it in bubbles,
clasped each towering speaker in a specially cut box.
The dress-shirts, slacks, designer boxers, socks,
collected knickknacks, a chess-set bought
in the markets of Hong Kong,
Tibetan rug, hand-crafted in Daramsalah,
wrapped and boxed it all,
the glass display shelves
with collected shells and rocks,
sofa, recliner, fine threaded sheets,
pillows filled with goose quills,
tumblers, teflon, knives,
trolleyed them out the door and were gone
leaving me to the hollow inside where
I could see the paint scratches in the walls,
corrugated in a corner,
a few crooked nails hung in the sheetrock, not even
my small clock with the pendulum was there,
and I lay my back down on the tiles,
the only thing left
and remembered the first moment
I fell in love with the place,
dreamt it a home, dreamt which angle works best
for that ratty nightstand,
how the walls should be hung
in finely crafted art,
and the happiness I had in the arrangement.
How I did delighted in entertaining
so many simple joys.
And while resting inside,
the phoneless cord, the power off,
I melted into myself, drifting up
from the balcony, over the high-rise and toll way
to the port, where those men tucked their cargo
in a dry metal container in a ship
and sailed towards a far shore.
And looking into the silent waters
I could see beneath, a luminescence
no blackness could enter,
no cracked and peeling skin would decompose,
and no missing lacquerware table
would ever steal away the stillness
that has settled over the tiles
in that empty room.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Although the amplitude and beauty of the previous version remains with me, this is so fine, so redolent of a life well lived - and about to resume on a somewhat different course or an equally well envisaged venue. Splendid, splendid!

[Bar22do]

I somewhat regret that you didn't leave here the original for us to compare, but what you might have lost of the original spontaneity is so artfully compensated for with great delicacy and refinement (though I remember the original struck me with both these qualities as well...) of suggestive details and overall tone. The final part:

And while resting inside,
the phoneless cord, the power off,
I melted into myself, drifting up
from the balcony, over the high-rise and toll way
to the port, where those men tucked their cargo
in a dry metal container in a ship
and sailed towards a far shore.
And looking into the silent waters
I could see beneath, a luminescence
no blackness could enter,
no cracked and peeling skin would decompose,
and no missing lacquerware table
would ever steal away the stillness
that has settled over the tiles
in that empty room.

distills, as if, what you're "taking" with you from the place you're leaving, and which from now on is part of you for ever.
This poem offers another contemplation on the subject of "home" (recently approached, amongst others by hill)... beyond the intimate and personal, it makes one think (me at least) what home is and if it is sth material or, if I may dare, a state of mind.
Thank you lall, it's outstanding.

Bar

[Bar22do]

Interesting enough to give it a bump! Good poetry!

[Delta40]

you have captured the experience of moving perfectly.

[lallison]

Thanks for all the great input. I'm still continuing to work on this. I typically write in a narrative, story telling style and I'm trying to experiment with some new things. I don't know if it will make the poem better or worse, but I think ultimately it will make my writing better to get better with using sound.

I think it's good advice to leave the original poem and see how it progresses. I will do that in the future. I just thought it would be easier not to force new readers to read a few different versions of the same poem. But I think it would be more helpful as a comparison. So here is the latest refined rendition. I was shooting for the quintessence of the thing. Let me know what you think, better or worse, or a mix of both.


Moving Day

When Moving day came,
four tawny men called at the door, then walked in.
They cased my aged computer, frayed with wear,
removed the wide screen LCD, bound it in bubbles,
clasped each towering speaker in a specially cut box,
dress-shirts, slacks, boxers, socks,
collected knickknacks, a chess-set bought
from a market in Hong Kong,
Tibetan rug, hand-crafted in Daramsalah,
glass display shelves with collected shells and rocks,
sofa, recliner, fine threaded sheets,
goose quill pillows, tumblers, teflon, knives.
Wrapped and boxed them all,
not even the little clock with the pendulum was there,
and I lay my back down on the tile,
remembering how I fell in love with the place,
dreamt it a home, which angle worked best
for that ratty nightstand,
how walls would be hung in fine crafted art,
and the happiness I had in arrangement,
in entertaining so many simple joys,
and now the phone-less cord, the power off,
in some strange sleep,
I drifted up from the balcony, over the high-rise and toll way
to the port, where the men tucked their cargo
in a dry metal container in a ship
and sailed to a far off shore.


by the way, just got an iMac, no more aged computer frayed with ware.
lal

[Bar22do]

I'm impressed how committed you are to this poem. You have all my admiration for persevering!

Now to your recent revision: this shortened version makes me (perhaps only me) feel that the enumeration of the objects being cased reads suddenly more like a list, while before I felt a story connected to each item, so it's maybe a question of balance that you could reconsider (pick up a shorter selection of items?).

I will regret your previous ending:

And looking into the silent waters
I could see beneath, a luminescence
no blackness could enter,
no cracked and peeling skin would decompose,
and no missing lacquerware table
would ever steal away the stillness
that has settled over the tiles
in that empty room.

though if you go for trimming, this too could perhaps become a rather short closing, about "the stillness over the tiles in that empty room."

I preferred "I melted into myself, drifting up" to "in some strange sleep".

Good luck with the continuation, lall, and thanks for letting us (me) witness of this exciting creative process!

Bar

[Delta40]

it amazes me how you can write like this. phenomenally thought-provoking! An amazingly multi dimensional poem containing raw emotion that nearly all of us have felt, but so few can express. Thanks so much for sharing it.

[Jerrybaldy]

Great depiction of how we become attached to trees. By the end, I could feel a deep sorrow upon seeing it fall. Outstanding use of sound devices.

This spring, he still stood tall and proud....

[Jerrybaldy]

it amazes me how you can write like this. phenomenally thought-provoking! An amazingly multi dimensional poem containing raw emotion that nearly all of us have felt, but so few can express. Thanks so much for sharing it.

[Jerrybaldy]

normally I would just fill in this box with generic laudatory comments when I read a poem like this one, and yet, the depth of its generics borders on masterful

[Haunted]

Great depiction of how we become attached to trees. By the end, I could feel a deep sorrow upon seeing it fall. Outstanding use of sound devices.

This spring, he still stood tall and proud....

[Delta40]

I agree with Haunted. Although in my own opinion I think it is a great depiction of how we become attached to trees. By the end, I could feel a deep sorrow upon seeing it fall. Outstanding use of sound devices

[Haunted]

An amazingly multi dimensional poem

[Haunted]

i like your poem very much. Its simple, yet heartfelt. Ending words are my heart's weakness, and I have to say that the last three lines are such perfection. I love this. I always like things that...

[Delta40]

Thanks for all the great input. I'm still continuing to work on this. I typically write in a narrative, story telling style and I'm trying to experiment with some new things. I don't know if it will make the poem better or worse, but I think ultimately it will make my writing better to get better with using sound.

I think it's good advice to leave the original poem and see how it progresses. I will do that in the future. I just thought it would be easier not to force new readers to read a few different versions of the same poem. But I think it would be more helpful as a comparison. So here is the latest refined rendition. I was shooting for the quintessence of the thing. Let me know what you think, better or worse, or a mix of both.


one day I moved

[Jerrybaldy]

i like your poem very much. Its simple, yet heartfelt. Ending words are my heart's weakness, and I have to say that the last three lines are such perfection. I love this. I always like things that...

[Jerrybaldy]

An amazingly multi dimensional poem

[Delta40]

i like your poem very much. Its simple, yet heartfelt. Ending words are my heart's weakness, and I have to say that the last three lines are such perfection. I love this. I always like things that allow me to see a place I didn't think I could see, understand or imagine. This really does this for me.

[lallison]

Thanks for that, as I mentioned above:


Feel free to speak your mind

so I really do appreciate critical feedback. Do you feel like the editing is an improvement or has made it worse?

And for the record, I was only focused on completely generic comments. Mentions of trees wouldn't fit. And it took about a month and some really blatant repetition for people to stop thanking me for it.

[shortstoryfan]

First of all...very nice.

The first thing I noticed was the list. Details can be good, but you have to always be very selective with lists...because they can get to feel unnecessary. By the time I got through the list...and picked up...I kind of felt that the poem (even the sonics of the poem, it's rhythm) were interrupted by the list. Also, I think all of the items in the list are not equal. For me, the "flat screen LCD" totally puts me in a place different than the world of this poem. I don't think it or the computer really tells me anything, or symbolizes anything that's vital. Maybe I just dont like modern devices in poems, I'm not sure. The phone seems in place though...because it kind of represents the absence of communication, being cut off. Also, the parts about the Tibetan rug, and the chess set from Hong Kong give the poem character. Alot of the other items...seem imbued with some kind of beauty or sumptuousness that gives a lot of texture in the images. Basically I would just look at the list and ask yourself how important it is...how are all these items in the list operating...what do they represent...what story are you telling...and what is the landscape of the story.

I feel like I wrote a lot, and didn't explain myself, but hopefully some of this makes sense.

[shortstoryfan]

Hahaha. And I just realized some of my comments were already mentioned...so just...ignore me? Ha.

[Bar22do]

lall, it seems there's a technical problem in your thread MOVING DAY - I find here reactions on Hawk and Delta's poems, so evidently something went wrong and perhaps it'd be a good idea to contact the administration to signal the problem, for, as I assume, it's not only in my computer that this thread got messed up!
Best - Bar

[Jerrybaldy]

conjures the image with an architects precision and with a lovers sorrow. Very well done, and I'm not just saying that.