Stillness Becomes Me
For L.
Stillness becomes me.
Frozen and not a little cracked,
bare to the wind once more.
It has been an age it seems,
but I strain for a whispered hymn
the words of which I had lost.
Forgotten? Put aside is the truth.
Yet I know it much too well
and can sing it from memory.
It speaks my heart, the paths
and forks of my narrow soul.
No use in struggling, be still.
All I have are words
etched by your love.
Even they taunt me now
while I read them as the blind,
fingers tracing the sweetest marks.
The breeze that once carried your sighs rises
and dissipates.
As before, all is motionless.
All is quiet.
No sound, no light.
Dreary, steady, constant.
I find stillness, but I find no peace.
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Comments by other Members
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 Dele Campbell at 12:27 on 09 August 2006
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Dear Iain
I love your metaphors for loss and loneliness
Frozen...not a little cracked
bare to the wind... |
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and themes both aural and sentient
| I strain for a whispered hymn |
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| The breeze that once carried your sighs |
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with fingers tracing the sweetest marks of
| words etched by your love |
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Lucky L.
Very potent, very real, the razor sharp clarity of pain.
I like it very much.
Dele
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o11ie at 22:21 on 09 August 2006
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Hi Ian
thats a lovly poem full of feeling, I'm with Dele on the metephores.
'Frozen and not a little cracked' is cool.
[quote]to which I had forgotten the words.
Forgotten? Put aside is the truth.
Yet I know it much too well[quote]
I like that bit, it's very telling. I think though that you use to many vague words e.g. soul and over explian things a little.
I hope of been of help. I find it very dificult to give feedback on work.
ollie
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paul53 [for I am he] at 15:39 on 10 August 2006
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Hi Iain,
I won't add to previous comments save to agree.
This appears tighter than your previous uploads, which is a good thing. It could maybe be tightened further. A good exercise is to take one of those "toss in the drawer" poems and keep paring it down until the basic essence is lost. It is one way of seeing how far one can go, and when one should stop. A string on a guitar or violin is just a length of string until ratcheted up to the correct pitch, but too much and it snaps.
I wouldn't be wasting my time saying all of this if there wasn't such potential in your uploaded pieces. To use another metaphor, the more you distil your words and images, the sooner you'll be producing fine malt.
Paul
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Laura Hunt at 18:25 on 10 August 2006
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This is the first of your pieces I have read and I love it! You can feel the chill wind of loneliness. One line jars for me:
| to which I had forgotten the words. |
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only on the basis that the rhythmic underpinnings of the poem seems to be lost here.
alt - the words of which I had forgot / forgot? just put aside for truth
S
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Iain MacLeod at 09:43 on 13 August 2006
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Hi Dele,
Thanks a lot for taking a look, and I'm very glad you liked it. Both you and and Laura have hit it on the head, loss, loneliness and bewilderment.
I must admit that I wasn't very sure of this piece, so I'm glad it's gone down quite well.
Lucky L.? I hope so :-)
all the best,
Iain
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Iain MacLeod at 09:51 on 13 August 2006
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Hi Ollie,
Thanks for the comments, glad you like it. Don't worry about being unsure about giving feedback, it comes eventually with practice though I know how difficult it can be.
Got you on my occasional vagueness, though I like to be enigmatic or intriguing upon occasion :-)
thanks again and all the best,
Iain
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Iain MacLeod at 09:53 on 13 August 2006
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Hi Paul,
Thanks once more for taking a look and commenting. I take your point on working things down - I think eventually I'll go back onto one or two of these poems and work them down to that point.
thanks again and all the best,
Iain
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Iain MacLeod at 09:57 on 13 August 2006
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Hi Laura,
Thanks for commenting and I'm glad you like it. I imagine there to be something of an autumn breeze around it.
Point taken on that line, I've had a wee fiddle so hopefully it scans a bit better now.
all the best and many thanks,
Iain
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 optimist at 09:18 on 01 November 2006
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Hello Iain,
I found this very moving and the language was very effective
'All I have are words
etched by your love'
lost love? Loneliness - all there.
I'm not that good at technical criticism but for me a poem always works when the language draws you in - you know almost as soon as you begin to read that here is something special - and this certainly did that for me.
Also when you almost catch your breath because a word or phrase is so exactly right ' frozen an not a little cracked' - you capture that sense of desolation, bewilderment - and yet this is not a gloomy poem. If that makes any sense?
Sarah
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Iain MacLeod at 20:21 on 16 November 2006
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Hiya Sarah,
Thanks for taking a look and I'm glad you enjoyed it so much - you made me blush! I think of the few poems I''ve bashed out, this is the one I'm most proud of (though perhaps wish I didn't have cause to write it).
I think you're right - desolation, dislocation, bewilderment, loneliness - though I hadn't thought of it as a not-gloomy poem. But it makes sense; perhaps there is something of a little smile in there, remembering....
but I'm rambling. Thanks for looking!
all the best,
Iain
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