The history of women and wood

A response to a suggestion by C.D. Campbell

A History of Women and Wood

A boy, years on the farm

Barely notices time,

But each year the notch where the horse

Rests his long jaw on the manger

And feeds, grows smoother and deeper.

The hoe handles, never sanded,

Bought rough and used rougher,

Are yet now smooth.

Free of the least imperfection.

I hear your voice,

Feel it glide like water into my heart.

I mount the stairs to your apartment;

The oak trod shallow in the tread.

The newel, the banister, fall like silk

Beneath my hand.

So why, when I touch you

Am I surprised at such smooth perfection?

 

 

 

Reviews

[CD Campbell]

And you got all that from horse trough or at least "horse". He does have to eat from somewhere, so I guess manger will suffice as it is a synonym for trough. Clever. Maybe I should challenge you with the words "spicy burrito" next time. Ok, I think the only thing that has been proven is that you have been holding out on us and poetry is not a waste of your time. {insert smiley face emoji of your choice} I know we kid each other and I can wax on about the typical imagery, metaphor, and all that stuff, but I think this could be published easily. That's my highest compliment. CD

BTW--At first reading I could've swore you had some type of meter scheme going.

[Delmar Cooper]

Thanks for your generous comment. I wrote a "short story" that more completely addressed your prompt, although it too was addressed sideways. The poem was an afterthought when it occurred to me you had not specified what form you expected. I probably would have passed up "spicy burrito" by the way.

[CD Campbell]

I didn't expect any type of particular form. I'm just used to pulling off my shoes and counting syllables.

[barleygirl]

I love how you choose to highlight all the ways wood can be honed by constant touch over the years & your well-expressed & specific examples harken intensely-felt memories of different wood items in the reader's history just like that. I love the comparison between smoothly worn wood & some loving encounter from a long life of such comfortable encounters. I could not tell for sure if this poem would end on a sweet note or a sour one. The sweet ending works well. I have to admit, your title brings something altogether different to mind, given my history as a woman lovin' woodies! *wink! wink!* Fondly, Margie

[Delmar Cooper]

I think, don't know just think, you are close to reading my mind in your comment. I tend to whisper intent rather than speak aloud, but let me ask you this. Can one man alone wear down a stair tread or polish a newel post to a silky finish? Can the surprise be genuine? Perhaps it is only his attitude that surprises. Whatever it is, I like this fellow and I'm glad I conjured him up.

[barleygirl]

"Can one man alone" . . . it all depends on how OCD he/she is *wink! wink!* Some of us can't keep our hands from fondling & working stuff . . .

[Delmar Cooper]

Your hugs take on whole new worlds of meaning. Thanks for sharing.

[syzygy]

Wow. Not sure how I came across this, but very glad I did. The transition from the boy/he of the first half of the poem to the 'I' of the second is direct without being jarring, what a wonderful tribute to the awe we sometimes feel in love. This whole poem builds to those last two lines so beautifully. Just wonderful.

[Eilis]

CD Campbell recommended I take a look at your work. I’m glad he did.

I like the distance of the voice in this poem. There’s a speaker, but he prefers to speak around things, and I think that reveals a lot about what the poem is holding back. It does feel like a road toward holding back. The depth of feeling sometime being too much and needing a dam. I am often struck by what I am missing when everything stops and I do not have anything left to come between me and whatever it is that’s left in the immediate frame. That’s a lovely aspect of the poem, the way it makes you (me) think about presence and absence. It works as a reminder. As much as the rumination seemed to act as a reminder for the one who is speaking.

I love the simplicity- the sort of invocation of different facets of the past- and how that comes together to make the present (future). There are echoes of Robert Frost in the boy. I thought of his poem Birches, and then moved out into the landscape of your poem. It’s rich and evocative. I enjoyed it very much.

[Delmar Cooper]

Thank you for reading and for your commentary. Campbell is a talented writer and I respect him immensely.

[Mrudula Rani]

So obsessed with smoothness of things,
he never noticed how soft she felt!

[Delmar Cooper]

You think so? Interesting.

[Mrudula Rani]

There is a huge difference between the feeling of wood and flesh !

[Delmar Cooper]

I never thought to write about wood or flesh, but about the effects of use and experience upon people and things.

[Mrudula Rani]

I was explaining my comment!

[Delmar Cooper]

And I my thoughts when I wrote the poem. I'm glad you read it and happy you commented. It's meaning is relevant only to the reader and that is you.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

both with rough edges, can eventually be smoothed out with the right touch.
j.

[Delmar Cooper]

Thanks Jacob.

[Chris Shaw]

I would imagine a carpenter or anyone who works with wood appreciates the results of their hard graft. Turning a piece of rough wood into something smooth and beautiful takes time and effort. I liked the comparison between the smoothness of the wood and a woman's skin. Maybe the surprise here is because the woman's perfection came easy to him who had endured a life of hard graft. I enjoyed the ambience of this poem. Thank you.

[Delmar Cooper]

Thank you for reading, and thank you for your gracious and thoughtful comment. I am your debtor.

[Chris Shaw]

You are most welcome.

[Papaya]

I like how you told this. Setting the scene of an honest working man, someone who works with his hands who is still jolted by the feel of his woman. It's not written as a sappy love poem yet your last two lines speak in such high volumes. It's how it feels to me. Something with love at the root of it.

[Delmar Cooper]

thanks for your comment. I had two ways I looked at this one, but there are two sides to every oyster so what difference does it make?

[Papaya]

I suppose it makes no difference?
One sees what they want to see.
:) you're welcome Delmar

[RomaineCoppola]

You started this poem in one place and transitioned to the opposite side of the world smooth as butter. This is great stuff. What a lovely outlook on time and life's peculiarities.

[Delmar Cooper]

"You started this poem in one place and transitioned to the opposite side of the world smooth as butter."
Thanks, but as you know one woman's buttery transition is another man's non sequitur.

[RomaineCoppola]

Hah. Too true, and too unfortunate.

[Neville]

So I have to thank both you and CD Campbell eh....Okay thank you both, wot a smashing little write this is... write on.................................................Neville

[Delmar Cooper]

He was a sport about the whole thing.

[Neville]

For he's a jolly good fellow then.....well done the pair of ya................

[Anise]

stunning piece of work here

[Delmar Cooper]

Thanks Anise. I appreciate your reading it.

[Anise]

you're welcome :)