As always all comments welcome. Then if you would, please answer my question after reading the poem... An Oak tree sprung, before dusk ramming its way in one mighty heave through living room floor pressing upper branches greenery, limbs flat to the ceiling, and for a trifling second, I wondered would it break an opening for something to come through. I climbed the rubble at its great base a mountainous pyre, of dirt, broken wood slats; and with meager arms rounded wide, I gauged its circumference, face close, bark scratching at cheek, at ear, and I lingered… for floating nearby her fading voice the faint scent of her skin, and deep in that trunk her laughter resonated and as I listened, the fault line trembled around the edges; but the Oak’s leaves didn’t rustle, didn’t stir. Question: I'm playing with changing the title, so I need to know what you thought the poem was about... that would help me decide its future. Vetty
New title, new direction: New title is "When He Died" - I know this is going to sound weird, but I've changed this poem twice since I posted it here yesterday. Sometimes I work on something and then I wake up and I have a revelation - or at least what feels like a revelation. So, here it is again, forgive if you find it a drag. If you are wondering about the changes and why I made them, let me know and I'll share. If not, well hope you like this one in any case... When He Died By Eve Castle An Oak tree sprung, before dusk ramming its way in one mighty heave through living room floor pressing upper branches greenery, limbs flat to the ceiling, and for a trifling second, I wondered would it break an opening for something to come through. I climbed the rubble at its great base a mountainous pyre, of dirt, broken wood slats; and with meager arms rounded wide, I gauged its circumference, face close, bark scratching at cheek, at ear, and I lingered… for floating nearby his fading voice the bold scent of his life, and resonating deep in that trunk, his laughter and as I listened, the fault line trembled around my edges but the Oak’s leaves didn’t rustle, didn’t stir.
First of all, I would like to say, I loved it. As far as what the poem was about.. I am not sure. The name seems to hint that it may be the loss of a loved one, but the significance of the oak tree, etc, makes me wondering what more it can be saying. There is one part that I think may sound better written a little different. Just would help the flow: but the Oak’s leaves didn’t rustle, nor stir. Sounded good the way it was too. Just a suggestion. Keep up the good work man, that was great. I think I may bookmark this
Vetty, Your talent sometimes astounds me. I love this poem. The second version makes more sense to me on many levels. Firstly, oaks are powerful and, if you like, more masculine than feminine. When you try to surround it's girth, it sounds like surround the broadness of a man's frame. Scratching bark is like scratching stubble. Also, resonates works really well with the sound of a man's booming laughter. This is a wonderful poem. Extremely well written. Beautiful sentiments. Just perfect. What more can I say? Peace, A. By the way, I love the name Eve.
Thanks Lizardd... and where did you go, I wanted to see more of your poems? It looks like I missed a bunch of stuff! I just saw Lizardd's response here when Aidan replied to my post! Aidan, as always thanks for your nice encouragement. I loved your perspective on the masculinity of the Oak which was not in my head when I wrote this poem but isclearly there... since I changed the title to "When He Died" that masculinity is now even more obvious. It works here, thanks for helping me with this one you guys. It's close to finished with this one and that's huge for me!
I think more people should read this. One thing I do want to ask. Is there any particular meaning to the last two lines? I really like the ending but have a few different ideas knocking around in my head. Peace, A.
