For my Brother

(I love you)

I sat on the deck
and watched him
push the yellow hand mower
back and forth,
clickety click click,
while the sleeves
of his shirts
hanging from the washing line
were filled by the autumn breeze
to their true size.
Fresh.
His hands yanked at weeds,
desperate to get at the root.
I lined all the used beer caps
in a row, murmuring,
Clickety click click
and lost myself
in struggling vines,
changing hues
and termite infested wood.
Stale.
Then there was no more noise,
no more wind,
no more weeds.
Wrapped in a blanket,
we shared a full moon,
an empty washing line
and enough memories
to set a blazing fire
that would thaw the frost
of any autumn night.
Clickety click click.

Gosh this is good, Delta. The pace and timing are impeccable save perhaps for the single word line, "vines". The "Fresh" and "stale" work well as singles, but with vines accidentally?inserted between, so the sequence is, "fresh, vines, stale," the contrasting concepts become diluted with a confusingly alien idea. If there is a reason vines is isolated on its own line, I'd love to know it, but if not, I'd be inclined to suggest putting the line break after "myself".

While reading this poem I was reminded of an Andrew Motion poem, The Mower, but probably only because of the mowing. :D

Live and be well - H

You're right Hawk. An editing slip up. Thanks for pointing it out.

Very powerful, like an old home-movie with better much direction. The clickety click business serves its internal purpose well, but also that of the film threading sound as it unwinds though the projector.

Not your intention probably - just the effect it had on me, with some nice observations in there too

Quote:

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Originally Posted by MystyrMystyry

Very powerful, like an old home-movie with better much direction. The clickety click business serves its internal purpose well, but also that of the film threading sound as it unwinds though the projector.

Not your intention probably - just the effect it had on me, with some nice observations in there too

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lol I never thought of that. Thanks for the review though MM.

This is a very beautifully simple poem that's simply beautiful. I can see, clear as crystal, and just as luminous, every image you present, and the way in which they flow one to another is as elegant as an Ozu film. All of the subtle rhythms, rhymes, and half-rhymes, that seem to weave each transition together into one piece of fine silk. The only thing I'm not crazy about is that last metaphor regarding pain setting fire to thaw the frost. It seems like an abstraction that's a bit out of place in such a detailed, imagistic piece. Also, with that image that comes after the first clickety click, I wonder if it shouldn't start with the shirts on the line FIRST and then move to the autumn breeze. I suggest this, because the clickety motif serves to structure the piece in a way, and considering that the focus of the next image is actually shirts on the line, I feel that by placing the wind first it's a bit of a mis-direction. Other than that, it's pretty much perfect.

I'd like to join the chorus in praising this beautiful poem. The way you downplayed the 'pain' gives it a distinct charm. And one more point why it appealed to me - you wrote it for your brother which is not so common nowadays.

Hope you are having a memorable get together with your brother. :)

I love the ambiance, or rather the sentiment this poem creates, it is like a small peice of that pastoral family heaven, and then the beautiful ignorance is lost and we are men and women and no longer children, and the world is an unprotected little blue ball surrounded by darkness. we all knew as children. very good poem.

Delta, I was thinking about this poem as I went to bed, and I want to elaborate on my comment about the autumn wind, as I do think my instincts were right, but for slightly different reasons: in the entire poems, the only two agents (subjects who are attached to the verbs) are the speaker and the brother. This sense of consistent agency is interrupted by an outside force too soon, I think. It would be better if that was rewritten in the passive voice, (The shirts were blown) as it implies a sense of loss of control and something slightly mysterious without taking the agency away fully just yet. To me, that switch of agency serves much better in the end of the piece, as it broadens the vision out at the climactic moment.

Just a thought. With such an amazing poem, it's worth it to get everything just right.

Hey Delta, your amazing poem reminded me of an old Polish movie "Brzezina" (Birch Grove) by A. Wajda and of it ambiances and delicate feelings...
Your poetry is ever better, subtler.. a wonderful experience to read, a true jewel. Thanks a lot!

Thank you so much everyone for your positive reviews! :grouphug:

Really like your stuff and the way you build feeling through simple unportentous words and imagery. Don't know if there's not an adjective overload in the lines 'lost myself....wood'. One fewer- struggling?- wouldn't do any harm. Likewise the lines 'Then there were...autumn night' might do with wee pruning. Since you're in the garden, anyway? And clickety click's integral as a motif is it? It reads fine without it. Lovely, though.

Ok Morpheus, I read your pm and made the change. Now Hallaig, what to do with you!