December Morning

[Hawkman]

When I woke there was snow,
not much, but just enough to dust
the roof slope window on my attic flat.
I could see it where the curtain sags
with the gravity of an old man’s paunch.
Reluctantly emerging from beneath the stack
of quilts, my socked foot descended
to a lake of chilly air. Hastily I donned
my robe and staggered down the stairs.
In the kitchen, where a time switch
had perfectly performed its eleemosynary task,
there was a semblance of warmth.

I twitched the blind, and peering through
the window I could see, in dull grey light
that seeped through layers of cloud,
the weather’s threadbare shroud,
an imperfect spray-paint dusting upon roofs,
on pavements, already smudged where the feet
of children on their way to school
had crushed it into treacherous ice.
By the kerbs I saw the footprints of departed cars,
asphalt black, as were the tramlines
of their tyre tracks abreast the camber’s peak.

I let fall the blind, withdrew my gaze
to brave the bathroom’s chill. A hot shower
might, perhaps, forestall the weather’s ills.
Hot coffee and a fag, or two, or three –
jumpstart the neurons, preheat the office
where computers wait to wait upon my will.
Another day in paradise, that somehow I must fill.

[hillwalker]

Typical poem from a Southern softy. Bedsocks! Honestly.

But seriously, here in Siberia I enjoyed your timely verse, especially the 'gravity of an old man's paunch' for the sagging snow on the gutter.

It's a little prosey, but that fits in well with the comforting, conversational style.

My only quibble would be 'where computers wait to wait upon my will.'

But other than that, thoroughly enjoyable

H (frostbitten but still typing to keep warm)

[Hawkman]

Sorry hill, I'm afraid my hardy Welsh ancestry has been watered down with Dorset Blood :D

You have my respect and sympathy for your endurance in the extreems of climate in those Pictish lands you choose to inhabit.

Funny how you always pick on my favourite line to query :D This one does make sense though. The first wait is passive, as the computers are dormant. The second is acitve as they then wait by serving, like waiters :D

Glad you enjoyed it though, H

[PrinceMyshkin]

Along with Hill, I thought that


the curtain sags
with the gravity of an old man’s paunch

even by itself was well worth the price of admission; but I disagree with his quibble at the computer waiting to wait... I suspect that the quill pen he uses is always at the ready, never freezes up.

[Hawkman]

Thanks Prince for your vote of confidence in the contentious line :D Every time I look at this poem I find a new typo! hopefully the 'socked food' was the last one - lol. Quill pens may not freeze, but what about the ink? :D at least they don't rely on electricity and may scratch their trails by candle light... Incidentally, since in this country we are no longer allowed to use 100W light bulbs and can only get low energy lamps, we might as well all use candles. They'd help to warm the room and probably give more light than their modern technological replacements!

Live and be well, H

[hillwalker]

I suspect that the quill pen he uses is always at the ready, never freezes up.

:cold:

So true, Prince. And when the ink freezes over I just dip the nib in blood.

H

[blank|verse]

Well, I think I would like to borrow that quill with blood, hill, as it would make a useful red pen with which to cross out all the extraneous bits of this piece! :) For a start, I thought us professional writers (cough!) were supposed to be wary of adverbs ('Reluctantly', 'hastily', 'perfectly'...)?

The poem does veer to the prosey too much for my liking and is very slow as a result; but I agree with the others who enjoyed the 'old man's paunch' metaphor - a moment of figurative language in a piece which is otherwise overly-literal.

As for the timer performing its 'eleemosynary' task - how much?? :willy_nilly: My dictionary states one of the definitions for the word is 'gratuitous' (although not the intended one, I presume). But my dictionary is clearly not without a sense of irony. Just cos you know a big word, doesn't make it right to stick it in a poem, Hawk! Particularly one that otherwise works by being written in conversational diction.

But I also enjoyed the 'footprints of departed cars' - thinking at first you meant their tyre-tracks, but the mention of them in the next line forces a re-think.

The language seems to change in the second half of the poem, and you have a habit of going all Elizabethan on the reader with your archaic diction and syntax - why 'abreast the camber’s peak' and 'I let fall the blind' (not 'I let the blind fall') and 'forestall the weather’s ills'? It clashes with 'jumpstart[ing] the neurons' which is language from another (more recent) century.

It ends with a cliche as well, although a tantalising thought follows, that perhaps should have been explored more in the poem and not tacked on the end.

[Hawkman]

Well hello B/V. Actually the sense in which I was using eleemosynary was 'charitable' or 'merciful'. The word is derived from the Greek eleos - pity. I'm sure you know this and were perfectly aware of its meaning in context. Thus, mercifully, the heater was on. It's use was intended to be humourously ironic.

As for contemporary usage, is there really any difference between I let fall and I let go? currently colloquial and to be heard almost anywhere on the streets. So how does it clash with jumpstarting? Have you never heard the expression, "draw abreast"? abreast, meaning side by side, just seemed the most economical means of saying the tyre tracks were paralell with the centre of the road.

I agree it's not the best poem in the world and certainly not my best, but it's not as bad as you seem to be suggesting, at least, not for the reasons cited. I value your technical comments and appreciate your reading, but there is more than one way to write a poem :D

Live long and prosper, H

Edit: B/V In the cold light of day, re-reading your comments this morning I feel that I was guilty of misinterpreting your sense of humour. I therefore withdraw any remarks questioning the tone of your comments and apologise unreservedly for over reacting (if you haven't seen them then you can ignore this bit, LOL). Perhaps my language is Elizabethan, but I'd suggest that I'm referring to Elizabeth II :D

I'm glad you did find something to like in the poem, even if the style was not entirely to your taste. By the way, the footprints of departed cars are the rectangular spaces in the snow where they were covering the road surface.

Live and be well, H

[_Shannon_]

eleemosynary

Love it!!!


And b/v...if I ever actually get me a real poem written--I want your feedback.

[GEETASHREE]

Loved it!

[Silas Thorne]

Hi Hawkman! You've painted your December morning well. Don't look outside for too long, it will take the warmth from your room. :)

But I'd also question the need for 'eleemosynary'. Like many other readers might do, since they can understand the quite colloquial language in the rest of the poem, I ignored it, ignored it like a faint bout of coughing in an otherwise fine speech. If you read it aloud, I'm not sure if you'd find many other people who knew what it meant.
I think 'where computers wait to wait upon my will' is a great line, but not sure you need the last line at all.

[Hawkman]

Hi, Shannon. Well, at least you liked eleemosynary - lol. Yes B/V's critiques are usually well worth having. Thanks for reading and stopping by to say hello.

Geeta, Hello to you too and thanks for reading and enjoying the poem. I'm glad you liked it. In this corner of Britain the snow has all gone now, execpt on the higher ground, to be replaced with ice on this bright, frosty morning. Thanks for stopping by to make so encouraging a comment.

Hi Silas and thanks for reading and sharing your thoughts. You make valid points, but opinion seems to be divided on eleemosynary :D I agree the last line might be better, but that wretched Phill Collins song was echoing in the recessess of what passes for my mind. I feel the poem required a couplet to close with, but perhaps it doesn't. I'm most gratified that generally you found the poem fit for purpose :D

Thank you all again for reading and commenting. Live and be well - H

[Haunted]

I can totally get inside the poem, just how I feel on a cold snowy day.

[AuntShecky]

Hi, Hawkman, Forgive my tardiness for weighing in on this, but yesterday I had all kinds of technical issues with beleaguered "Pong II" and today all manner of interruptions of the human variety ("software" one could say.)

I liked "December Morning" -- light and airy as a flurry. The piece is full of your characteristic wit, beginning with the image of "old man's paunch." In general the "sound effects" resonate throughout, and the rhymes are pleasing
without being intrusive. As usual, your technique is spot on.

One of my "unofficial" rules for a poem is to have only one-or at the most two- fifty dollar words in one poem. Delightfully you didn't exceed that quota; "eleemonsynary" is sarcastic and very funny. I immediately thought of black-and-white early 60s era British films that I like to watch on the "teevee." Your eleemonsynary, i.e. "free of charge" warmth reminded me how those movie characters couldn't get the heaters to work until they deposited some coins--"pence"?-- in the meter.

Oh, but what makes this poem worth its quid is the concluding stanza/strophe. Loved the irony of "another day in Paradise" but best of all that phrasing, as in the computers "wait to wait upon my will." That construction sounds familiar I thought! Where did I hear such phrasing? Yes! What a tribute to Miss Emily D. with her "I could not see to see."

So you see, such phrasing puts you in very in good company, Hawkman. Thanks for posting this. It's a delight.

[Hawkman]

Thanks Haunted, It seems that we all share some semblence of common experience, at least those of us who live far enough from the tropics to experience snowfall. Here it has stopped snowing but it now rains. Far less Christmassy, in the Dickensian, chocolate box picture sense anyway. It's still cold though. Glad you felt at home with the poem :D

Auntie, You are much too kind especially in the light of your technological tribulations. Oh, and as far as I remember those meters used to take shillings :D It seems that you favour my cliched ending. It would therefore seem that there is a more or less equal distribution between those who like and don't like the various contentious elements. What is one to do? I guess one just writes what one writes and if peole like it then that's nice - and if they don't they can lump it - lol.

Seriously though, I'm always happy to hear an opinion, even if it's wrong - :D

I'm really glad you enjoyed it, Auntie. Live and be well, H

[firefangled]

Hawk, I enjoyed this very much. Being in Florida for the last 10 years, winters like yours are, regrettably, a distant memory. Your description of gazing from the sanctuary a warm house brings back pleasant mornings from when I lived in several colder climates.

As for the language throughout the poem, I for one find it acceptable to use stylized language in a humorous poem, although I can appreciate B/V's comments for a more serious reflection. Even though I only use eleemosynary
a few times a day in conversation, it was apropos in context here IMO. :)

[Hawkman]

Thanks for your vote of confidence, ff :D Right now I envy your climate though!

Best H

[blank|verse]

Hi Hawk,

Thanks for the clarification, that's very gracious of you. No hard feelings.

To be honest, I didn't know what 'that word' meant and had to look it up. I stand by the general point that it sticks out like a sore thumb in the poem, and consistency of diction is part of how a writer controls a poem, right?


Perhaps my language is Elizabethan, but I'd suggest that I'm referring to Elizabeth II
Ha! Remind me to say 'Jacobean' next time! Ok, I'm feeling generous - Victorian! :)

Anyway, thanks for the comments.
b|v