Annick Water
Posted: 08 November 2009
Word Count: 369
Summary: This is in my 2007 collection. Just below the poem I've done a very blatant promotion, aimed at new members. All comments welcome, including critical ones.
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Annick Water
I think I came to taste
the sweet past here,
like rose-hips,
not the collapse of years.
But here's John Hastings' house,
torn beyond cure;
enduring, as stone will,
far, far too long. Through all
my childhood, he was old.
Gassed in some wasteland, cast
out coughing from the butchers' war,
he sold best suits, and gents'
and ladies' boots and shoes,
out of a horse-van. In the year
of the flood, rooks
racketing overhead, the rioting
Annick at his door,
his sick wife calling, he willed
the water and the wind away
and eight miles laboured
to the doctor's gate.
I see the woods have lost
the tree-house tree,
my secret neighbourhood;
- I would have mourned then
if a wind had taken it -
my neighbours too, companionable elves,
the girl with the riding hood, the wily wolf,
the bears and their fair visitor, ghosts
always, now seem grass.
I find my name here, gashed
in a ridged ash-bark.
Easy nostalgia, like a comfortable
breeze, I really
wished for; not these
edged gusts, remembrance-
bearing, as it were December.
Annick Water - version 2
I think I came to taste
the sweet past here,
like rose-hips,
not the collapse of years.
I see the woods have lost
the tree-house tree,
my secret neighbourhood;
- I would have mourned then
if a wind had taken it -
my neighbours too, companionable elves,
the girl with the riding hood, the wily wolf,
the bears and their fair visitor, ghosts
always, now seem grass.
And here's John Hastings' house,
torn beyond cure;
enduring, as stone will,
far, far too long. Through all
my childhood, he was old.
Gassed in some wasteland, cast
out coughing from the butchers' war,
he sold best suits, and gents
and ladies boots and shoes,
out of a horse-van. In the year
of the flood, rooks
racketing overhead, the rioting
Annick at his door,
his sick wife calling, he willed
the water and the wind away
and eight miles laboured
to the doctor's gate.
I find my name here, gashed
in a ridged ash-bark.
Easy nostalgia, like a comfortable
breeze, I really
wished for; not these
edged gusts, remembrance-
bearing, as it were December.
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Comments by other Members
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 woodsville at 18:51 on 08 November 2009
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In one phrase "bitter sweet" sums up this poem for me.
On reading the poem 2 or 3 times the word commitment (or lack of it) and description crop up. This is merely my assessment of the feeling expressed and not a comment on execution.
The descriptive style of the poem is more a comment on the narrators need to hide from nasty realities, however at odd moments these do peep through in the poems use of images/metaphor, e.g. "cast out coughing from the butchers' war,".
The poem seemed non-committal until the description of John's need for the Doctor to attend his wife. This sense of altruism suggested to me that the narrator has values after all - did you intend this??
I like the use of assonance to slow the pace and flatten the tone i & e's are corralled with o's & u's and this to me limits the tone and stops the poem straying into a longing for sentimentality.
I can see that the 3rd verse limits the melancholic and the technique enforces that, but I cannot see why its there - earlier in the poem yes. Verse 3 suggests to me a folding back - a dottiness, but perhaps that's my prejudice.
On the whole a salutary lesson in how to control expression.
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Arian at 20:24 on 08 November 2009
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Hi James.
Yes, well-observed and very nicely phrased: we revisit a place of childhood memories, hoping for the balm of nostalgia, only to find it an oddly uncomfortable – perhaps even guilt-laced – experience.
I enjoyed the whole thing – a relaxed pace, well-judged and tightly controlled rhythm, and simple, unforced language all combine to deliver a plaintive, regretful tone that hints (to me) of lost opportunity, somehow.
To suggest faults or changes would verge on an impertinence for such an accomplished piece. The only ultra-mini-nit I can think of is (pedantic or what?): shouldn’t gents and ladies boots take the possessive apostrophe? Personally, I can’t quite decide.
Thanks for posting.
peter
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 James Graham at 14:25 on 15 November 2009
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Patrick, thank you for this interesting comment. I would say, though, that the whole bit about John Hastings does dig into some unpleasant realities. There's the ruined cottage, the First World War, and the hardship represented by the storm and his long walk to call the doctor. The ruined cottage (which had been a rural slum anyway) reflects the thing I have about 'common' people who struggle all their lives and are forgotten: 'And some there be that have no memorial, and are become as though they had never been born...' Yes, the narrator has values, but doesn't want to think about them - just wants to revisit childhood haunts, and wallow.
I did want to convey a wish to escape unpleasant realities, and even resentment that they intruded on my nostalgic visit. The poem is true, by the way - the ruined house and the story behind it, finding my name carved on a tree (now much higher up, because the tree had grown!), and the spot where the tree-house had been until, presumably, the tree was blown down.
Your suggestion that the tree-house/ fairy tale bit should be moved is an interesting one, and I've posted it as a Version 2. Still to decide if it's better.
James.
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James Graham at 14:39 on 15 November 2009
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Peter, thank you for your positive comment. Most of all I like the fact that you see it as 'tightly controlled'. Controlled free verse - that's the great 20th-21st century innovation, and it's good to more or less pull it off sometimes. The apostrophe - well, I suppose it's like 'Gents Hairdresser', not good enough for the old-school English teacher but common enough.
James.
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purpletandem at 19:55 on 17 November 2009
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Hi James,
I bought a copy of your collection a while back. It was well worth the investment!! I hope other group members will do so too, if they haven’t already. It’s really the least we can do to appreciate all the care and effort you put into this group.
I’m sorry to be slow in responding to Annick Water, as I have also been to all the other recent postings of new work. Here are some miscellaneous minor observations.
The main impression is of a sad nostalgia, somewhat regretful, though we are not sure why regretful – perhaps a sense of loss, of lost youth?, injustice?
On first reading, I expected more about John Hastings. I was thrown a little by the switch to the tree house. I thought the poem was going to develop with his story, but it didn’t. On re-reading a few times, that doesn’t matter though. These are the ‘random’ thoughts of a nostalgic walk.
In the final stanza, line 3, I wonder about having a semi-colon instead of a comma, or rearranging the line breaks? It just took a few readings to understand the meaning. I think I was unconsciously reading it as –
Easy nostalgia, like a comfortable
breeze, I really
wished for, not these.
Edged gusts, remembrance-
bearing, as it were December. |
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The poem ends at a point where another verse is called for, to lift the spirits, but leaves it to the reader to construct that ‘verse’ – which is an observation, not a criticism or suggestion.
I think it may be a common experience, to revisit a place expecting happy emotions, only to find oneself engaged by sad ones. The poem brings that out very well. It happened to me recently when I revisited my old university city for the first time in 24 years. The pleasant nostalgia of happy days offset by regret at the subsequent waste of an education. But that’s another story…
One mark of a whole person is the ability to feel both joy and pain, and to hold them balanced. That I think your poem does well.
I thought these snippets were particularly telling in terms of the use of language –
Gassed in some wasteland, cast
out coughing from the butchers' war, |
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… ghosts
always, now seem grass. |
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I wrote the above without reading other comments, which I have now looked at…
I would include the apostrophes, but then I’m old school!!
I agree that the pace and tone of the piece are well controlled.
I vote for version 1.
Kind regards,
pt
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woodsville at 20:06 on 17 November 2009
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Thanks for your response to my comments about Annick Water. I have just read version 2 and feel that verse 1 loses any impact its supposed to have in the poem.
I have had several days away from the poem and believe that the value of version 1 was that the narrator becomes scared/afraid by the realities and buries his head even deeper into fantasy.
On reflection version 1 makes good use of a counterpoint i.e. contrasting the harsh reality verse 2 and the need to deny that verse 3 - perhaps Peter's comment about lost opportunity could come at the end - like an afterthought - or a shiver reminding the narrator that something has to be sacrificed in order to overcome adversity.
This overcoming adversity is something John Hastings had done and the cost was the displacement or upset of routine - selling clothes from the back of a cart. Whereas the narrator has never had that sense of displacement and in some way stuck in a self constructed fantasy.
Anyway just some thoughts.
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James Graham at 16:34 on 18 November 2009
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Hi Patrick
Thanks for this further analysis of the sequence of ideas in the poem. I have come to much the same conclusion about Version 2. I'm less sure about being 'stuck in a self-constructed fantasy', unless it's just a tendency to hold on to childhood fantasies and idealise childhood. I don't see the narrator burying his head in fantasy, rather taking on board - or being compelled to - some of the realities he was hardly aware of when he was a child. Having said that, I've always believed in the ambiguity of poetry and readers' freedom to take different meanings from any that the poet 'intended'.
James.
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James Graham at 17:01 on 18 November 2009
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pt, thank you for this full comment. Yes, the original version works better than the other. I've put a semi-colon where you suggest, and think it helps the reader grasp the sense of these lines. By popular request I've put in the apostrophes too.
The story of John Hastings is quite short partly because that's all I know about him, or all I can remember of what my father told me about him many years ago. Also, though it may be stretching a point, perhaps the sudden switch implies the narrator doesn't want to think about him any more, and is glad of the distraction of coming to the place where the tree-house used to be.
I pick up on this phrase of yours especially:
| the ability to feel both joy and pain, and to hold them balanced |
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If you think the poem succeeds in conveying that balance, that pleases me very much. I can't say it happens by conscious design, but it's something that seems to emerge from my poems occasionally, and when it does it's very satisfying.
Many thanks again. Much appreciated.
James.
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 FelixBenson at 10:46 on 19 November 2009
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Hi James
Interesting discussion about this poem - I have enjoyed reading the various comments and testing how I feel about version two against the printed version. Very illuminating.
But I agree that the progression in version one seems more finely balanced, and makes better sense. The passage about John Hastings feels (to me) like the heart (and the event) of the poem, and needs to come first - bringing those of the adult world to the fore.
I bought your collection a while back too, and have returned to it many times. It is funny what strikes you when you first read a new poetry collection - some poems present themselves more immediately - some you discover later, and return to. For me, this is one of those.
I would agree with Peter and Pt - tightly controlled (like a vine down the page...), and 'the ability to feel both joy and pain and hold them balanced' - absolutely.
What I like about the John Hastings verse is the ability to conjure the scene (the action, the event) so concisely. The racketing rooks, the rioting river flooding. The journey he makes. It's very vivid. And it is in the unsentimental language that it holds that shift - the point when you know what the poem is really about.
Anyhow, I know you didn't post this poem for compliments, and I don't have any useful technical comments to make. I have always more to say about why poems do work than why they don't! Which is not entirely useful. Hopefully I will improve on that other point.
If my recommendation is worth anything to other members of the group, I certainly recommend this collection. The language used is - as you would expect - always clear, beautifully written, tightly controlled, but the poems often stop you in your tracks.
Kirsty
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James Graham at 12:20 on 24 November 2009
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Thank you for such an affirmative and thoughtful comment, Kirsty. Glad you liked the book. It is quite a mixture of poems that 'present themselves more immediately' and others that (as I've learned from readers' feedback) are much more demanding than I had thought. We know our own work so well and sometimes don't realise how much we expect of readers. But that's poetry - it can't always be simple, because sometimes you're trying to articulate something that (as far as you know) has never been said before.
The discussion we've had on 'Annick Water' has been interesting, showing how you can sometimes experiment with the sequence of ideas in a poem. This one's better in the original, though.
Thanks again.
James.
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