|
|
 |
The final berries
Posted: 19 June 2014
Word Count: 98
Summary: a new sonnet i'm working on. be glad of any comments.
|
Font Size
|
|
The final berries
I believe God has gone. I believe that
these trillion scattered pinlights of stars
murmur only to the vacuum of space.
No-one hears the comets’ whispering light,
trundling planets singing opera to the sun,
or that gasping yellow face on the moon.
My soul amplifies those thunder clouds grunting
and spinning birds’ frantic arpeggios.
The dolphin leaps to hear the commotion
and the sea glugs the news to the startled fish:
that my beehive’s quiet honeycomb asks
where have all the bees gone? The red lips
of the final berries have kissed the winter snow.
|
Comments by other Members
| |
 James Graham at 19:56 on 20 June 2014
 Report this post
|
Just a preliminary comment, Des. I’ll give it a little more time and say a bit more. First impression – which I don’t think will change – is that you’ve used the sonnet ‘turn’ (volta) in a very striking way, moving from a dead cosmos to an Earth which is still full of life but – ominously – without bees.
You’ve only 13 lines! It might not be a bad thing, though, to need that extra line. In a way the ‘turn’ of the poem seems too extreme, and the subject matter of the octave and sestet seem quite disconnected. As I read it, the poem is saying God must have abandoned his creation because the bees, which play such a vital role in nature, are dying out. I feel the poem’s ending would benefit from a second reference to the departed God, which would frame the ideas of the poem and make a clearer connection between its two parts. This is a feeble illustration, and you will come up with something much more telling:
my beehive’s quiet honeycomb asks
where all the bees have gone. God will
devise no miracle now. The red lips
of the final berries have kissed the snow.
My extra bit is just to show that a reference to God could fit there, and make up the full 14 lines at the same time. (While doing this I took the liberty of turning the question into a statement, and omitting ‘winter’.)
More to follow. Maybe wait a few days to let other members comment.
James.
|
|
| |
 desdillon at 11:35 on 21 June 2014
Report this post
|
James -
thanks for commenting.
I see exactly what you're saying. Another refernce to God would also make the last line work better cos I was thinking that it was also a bit of a leap(like the volta) and that might have the benefit of pushing the volta up into the quartet and so the sester would start with the dolphin? And i will make the new line a statement. Ha - I meant to have 14 lines - didn't even notice that.
The poem started form a line that came into my head.
berries are red like lips to kiss the winter snow.
| |
James Graham at 20:24 on 21 June 2014
Report this post
|
'The dolphin...' would be ok, I think, as the beginning of your sestet. It's from this point that nature itself seems to be reacting to the fact that the bees have gone. The birds' arpeggios are linked to the thunder, as two things that 'my soul amplifies'. As far as 'arpeggios' the poem is about what is going on in the narrator's mind; after that it seems to move beyond that.
I was going to point out a couple of things (not major) that don't seem right. Do you need to repeat 'I believe' in the first line? For the most part you say a thing once in poetry unless there's a good reason to say it twice. Maybe there is. If you had only one 'I believe', I thought of filling out the line with something like 'I believe God has abdicated: that/ these trillion...'
The only other thing is the thunder clouds 'grunting', which seems a rather feeble sound for them to make. 'Rumbling' is a cliche, but 'growling'? 'Grumbling'? Or something more out of the box, e.g. 'complaining', 'protesting'? These don't seem very good, but I think you need to replace 'grunting'.
It'll be good to see a new draft.
James.
|
|
| |
desdillon at 20:52 on 21 June 2014
Report this post
|
Hi James
I had a few more I believe in the poem cos at first it was like the Catholic we belive. But you're right. I had thought about changing that. Also the grunting clouds I was erring on the side of communication like the birds arpeggios and the gulping sea. But didn't want to use rumble etc. I'll find a word.
I'll get a new draft up soon
Thank you .... Your comments are valued and take me to a higher level than I would work at without them.
| |
desdillon at 12:43 on 25 June 2014
Report this post
|
The Final Berries
I fear that God’s been shunted from his place
and these trillion scattered pinlights of stars
murmur only to the vacuum of space.
No-one hears the comets’ whispering light,
trundling planets singing opera to the sun,
or that gasping yellow face on the moon.
My soul amplifies the grunts of thunder clouds
and spinning birds’ frantic arpeggios.
The dolphin leaps to hear the commotion
and the sea glugs the news to the startled fish:
that my beehive’s quiet honeycomb asks
where have all the bees gone? The still roses
tilt skywards for answer but the red lips
of the winter berries have kissed the snow.
| |
James Graham at 19:37 on 26 June 2014
Report this post
|
A very successful revision, Des. Everything seems right now. I had a momentary doubt about ‘shunted’ but now I don’t think it’s out of place at all – and I’ll explain why. The poem ‘changes key’ in the last four lines. The tone up to there is quite light, with touches of humour; not broad humour of course, just brush-strokes of quiet humour here and there. E.g. ‘shunted’, ‘pinlights of stars’, ‘trundling planets singing opera to the sun’, plus grunts, arpeggios and glugs. In an odd sort of way, ‘shunted’ makes ‘grunts’ ok, and even vice-versa. The solemnity of ‘I believe God has gone’ was out of keeping; now the tone is consistent. After line 10 the tone changes and becomes, in the last line, profoundly sad. All this works very well, I think.
The still roses
tilt skywards for answer but the red lips
of the winter berries have kissed the snow.
Maybe it was a good thing you started off a line short! These closing lines now are top-rate. The reference to the departed God is oblique but perfectly clear. The way you express it in terms of the roses turning skywards blends with the ‘winter berries’ of the last line. ‘Skywards’ also looks back in a subtle way to the cosmic images of earlier lines.
‘Winter berries’ is better than ‘winter snow’ because the latter seems redundant. Winter snow – what else? (Unless you’re a Scottish reader only too familiar with spring snow!)
I don’t think I made special mention before of your line
or that gasping yellow face on the moon
The face on the Moon must have been described – and remarked on in conversation – innumerable times. To write about it again and describe it as ‘gasping’ is highly original. And it passes the test – you look up at that face and the Old Man is gasping! A gasp of despair, in the context of your poem. Great line.
You don’t write a sonnet, you sculpt it. You don’t need to chip away at this one any more.
James.
|
|
| |
desdillon at 19:50 on 27 June 2014
Report this post
|
Hi James
thanks once again for your incisive comments without which this poem would never had got the where it has. The change in key you mention is something I've been attracted to repeatedly in my writing -in my prose i use a phrase " but that's not what it was" more than I should followed by a big downturn in expectation which is the Scottish working class experience. Something not delivering its promise or not being what you thought it was. And when I was writing River City I was always getting pulled up for too much humour - even when trying to write straight that Irish/Scot humour seeps through. I like things that verge on the absurd or farcical while being close enough to reality that we go "aye - that makes a weird sense"
Of course the parts of the poem adding up to the sum isn't consciously deliberate but a kind of feeling that I'm trying to get the reader to feel. Thank God for the subconscious mind is what I say. Not to mention guys like you with such a deft critical eye and an unoffensive way of expressing it. Your input is of the type where I go - fuck! that's so bang on! But just so much out of reach that I don't think I'd have got there on my own anytime soon. Like a rudder.
My roses last till December and sometimes January - that's how they ended up in the poem but they are now doing more than I envisaged. And winter snow - it's such a good phrases but such a cliche - my fave is from a Christie Moore song" Oh the Easter snow, it has faded away..." But it certainly works better with the berries and makes " kissed the snow" much more terminal and definite for a reason I can't explain.
As you say chipping away is how a sonnet is made and that's my favorite part. But sometimes what bits to chip become clear when someone is handing you the tools. And the moon - i read as a boy that different countries saw different things on the moon. The dutch see a boy and a girl running hand in hand. But I always saw this open mouthed astonishment or the like.
So once again James thanks so much for your guidance.
| |
| |
Comments by other Members
