a final revision

[mfwilkie]

The chair's bamboo, and used, mahogany-hued,
a sound design of Filipino tree-bones.
Its evolution? Earth to chair to table.

A retrofit, with glass across a caned,
contrasting lap, it holds a lamp, sun-bright,
to minimize extremes of loneliness

that surface when I face your empty pillow.
Grief's pressed on everything that follows death.
In working through the elements of sorrow,

maybe its abandonment appealed to me.












The chair's bamboo, mahogany-hued,
a sound design of Filipino tree-bones
who've evolved from earth to chair to
a table fit with glass across a caned,
contrasting lap perfect to sit a lamp on
to read by when nights fight sleep and
rem isn't restful. Death emptied him into
shadows with no voice. Maybe it's the
chair's abandonment that appeals to me.

[David Nelson Bradsher]

The chair's bamboo, mahogany-hued,
a sound design of Filipino tree-
bones who've evolved (morphed more likely)
from chair to table: fit with glass
across a caned, contrasting lap;
perfect to sit a lamp on, to read by
when nights fight sleep and rem isn't
restful since death wrought change
in the bedroom and emptied him into shadows
with no voice. My Sweet dreams, Babe, once played *
to I love you, Moose. Maybe the chair's
abandonment appeals to me. Or something more.

A widow's eyes first focus inward
to find her ground, to search for air.

*Mags, please tell me how my scansion matched up to your intent. I have some thoughts.

[mfwilkie]

with is unstressed in my ear, D.

Thanks, Mags

[David Nelson Bradsher]

Gotcha. ;D

[mfwilkie]

Here's how I scan the line, D.

with no voice. My Sweet dreams, Babe, once played *

and this one:

bones who've evolved (morphed more likely)

You what's interesting, muh cara? I noticed I was creating alliteration without thinking about it.

[mfwilkie]

This draft has gone through eight revisions off site, D, and I hope I'm getting close.

I'll let you know when I have were I at least like it.

Mags

[David Nelson Bradsher]

Please do. This is a keeper.

[sanctus]

I like this Maggie, it is quite haunting. You've got your hands full with the stresses, but I see dead commas. I don't think you want a comma between "perfect to sit a lamp on, to read by" as this implies that it is the table that you will read by, not the lamp. This is true because you're talking about what the chair is perfect for. Without a comma, it becomes clear that the lamp is the thing making reading easier or better. Tasty. That's how it strikes me.

Daniel

[mfwilkie]

Thanks for the look-see, Daniel, and the comma-critique. You're absolutely right about them,

This is an attempt at accentual meter still waiting for one serious
and final meeting with my mind in revision.

If you have a mo, take a look up top.
I tossed the accentual out and tightened it.

How's life in suburbia?

Maggie

[Angel Clementine]

Maggie,
I had never read this poem before, but after having read it the fourth time in a row, my eyes suddenly opened and I burst into tears as I read the line, "Death emptied him into the shadows with no voice." I would suggest capitalizing "him", as it is a pronoun, taking the place of a proper noun (a name). Maybe, I am interpreting this poem all wrong. _Angel

[solwic]

It's funny...I've spent a long time looking for a decent site with good, modern formal poetry - not poetry from the masters, but from up-and-coming poets.

At the same time, I've been talking to Mr. Bradsher, and I knew he had this site. Why I never put the two together is still a mystery.

Anyway, nice work. Me like.

[mfwilkie]

Glad you like the draft, James.

It still needs some tweaking.

Ah, but the pile grows bigger!!

Maggie

[Angel Clementine]

I, myself, enjoy reading through my old poetry to make that final stab at getting something to sound right, so that afterward I can put the edited writ to rest. Just to let you know that I am here for you as a witness. One of my back rooms would read like a train wreck. My eye enjoys seeing lines arranged into groups of Three. *Angel

[mfwilkie]

The chair's bamboo, and used, mahogany-hued,
a sound design of Filipino tree-bones.
Its evolution? Earth to chair to table.

A retrofit, with glass across a caned,
contrasting lap, it holds a lamp, sun-bright,
to minimize extremes of loneliness

that surface when I face your empty pillow.
Grief's pressed on everything that follows death.
In working through the elements of sorrow,

maybe its abandonment appealed to me.


Here's another revision, D.


Skinless.

Flesh reduced to bone
and circular thinking—

raw—

internally exposed and
searching for a face

for others.















The chair's bamboo, mahogany-hued,
a sound design of Filipino tree-bones
who've evolved from earth to chair to
a table fit with glass across a caned,
contrasting lap perfect to sit a lamp on
to read by when nights fight sleep and
rem isn't restful. Death emptied him into
shadows with no voice. Maybe it's the
chair's abandonment that appeals to me.


[/quote]

[GD Martin]

I am still lightly whisking the spillage of tears from beneath both eyes. I have imagined your underlying story from the info subtly given in the poem, without details ever having been told to me, prior. I take it you are a widow; from your avatar, especially, I have come to that conclusion. I've never met you, Maggie, but your poem, as brief in words as it is, still tells so much, and evokes so much feeling in me. That quality is what I truly believe is the essence of poetry. Your final revision is my favorite one. Without your latest title, "Pity Party", I would only have thought of your poem as a deep expression of sadness, but the title gives the reader more insight into what you were, or still are feeling. We must tell ourselves the whispers that will help pull us through to another day. In the middle of the night when I am alone, I am of the belief that God feels or sees every tear, even when my eyes have long run dry.
Gary

[mfwilkie]

Gary,

You hit the nail on the head. It's a piece from the book I'm working on about life after Kenny's death.

Thanks for sharing your tears. I'm a firm believer that God
gets all his info from our Guadian Angels.

Maggie