Summerville

Your cabin still stands at attention,

circled by seedy, tangled grasses.

The gnarled sentry still stands guard.

I touch its thick trunk, and the rough scars

tell me again of blisters you accidentally

gave it and yourself in your fight against the fire.

Old rogue, all its branches are bare

except the one leafing out 

toward the blue-rimmed mountain in the west,

as if to salute some remembered song

that ripens like an apple in its memory.

 

Three horses clumped in the meadow,

brown and black and gray,

warn me off with flattened ears

and rumps well-positioned for the kick,

but the woodpile where we sat

dangling meat on a string

to coax the young minks from their nest

tempts me to sit and remember:

 

     My first ascent to your loft was by ladder

     not by the rope that hung from your heart. 

     Yet what mattered to me was not strength of arms,

     but that we woke at the same moment

     to stand naked beside the diamond window.

     "Something at the pond drinking," you whispered,

     and in the stillness nothing,

     nothing but the breath of our breathing

     and the sound of something wild

     lapping water in the dark.

 

I push hard against the door

and sunlight knifes the stale mice stench,

spilling a white path across the floor.

Through the milky haze I see

a hundred yellow-jacket corpses

in crisp, black lines against the sills.

One is still beating itself against the glass

with little popping sounds.

 

I would have died for you,

but you weaned me from your life

with little shocks, one by one.

A sad whisper escapes my lips.

The aspen will not betray my words

until November winds wrench out my secret:

 

"It was here I loved you best."

Author's Note

Work in progress revised 5/29/08 (I consider everything, brood, change) (maybe)

Reviews

[Vanessa Whiteley]

There are some lovely lines and some evocative imagery in this poem, however, I think it is one of those cases of a little less being more. Useful trimming would make this poem even more powerful. The opening line is arresting and makes the reader want to continue. However, I'm not convinced about the repetition of 'still stands' and I don't think you need the adverb 'accidentally' as common sense implies he did not blister himself on purpose. Moreover, adverbs tend to be frowned on as a no � no to be used only on rare occasions. I would suggest:

Your cabin still stands at attention,
circled by seedy, tangled grasses.
The gnarled sentry remains on guard.
I touch its thick trunk, and the rough scars
tell me again of blisters you gave it
and yourself in your fight against the fire.

I, also, think that I would reconsider the structure. This would be a great place to leave this stanza and

Old rogue, all its branches are bare

makes for a great opening line to the second stanza. While these are beautiful lines:

as if to salute some remembered song
that ripens like an apple in its memory.

The description of the horses is vivid. However, I am less keen on the woodpile while the line 'tempts me to sit and remember' is telling rather than showing. The reader should be able to enter the feelings of the persona without being told what to think. This also applies to the 'what mattered to me' I would be tempted to cut this section and go with

We would wake at the same moment
Stand naked beside the diamond window.
"Something at the pond drinking," you'd whisper,
and in the stillness nothing,
but our breath and the sound
of something wild lapping water in the dark.

You write that this is work in progress so if you do decide to revise please let me know. I'd love to read the next version and I think this will be a very beautiful poem after a little more polishing

[Shaun Rudie]

I love the richness of this, the pause in time, the emotional coloring that you carry me through. You so softly place me in the scenes that I forgot I was sitting in my chair reading this. Wonderful expression.

[J. Hampton]

a gorgeous write...one of the most "indelible" reading experiences ..that I have had in a while
mastered with such precision...it makes me long !

If this is from your own reflection and recall ...I applaud this...
if it is from your imagination... I may just toss away little balls of paper for the rest the day

Blessssssssssss

[Leah Simone]

Very impressive poem - there is so much emotion flowing - the imagery was magnificent. I especially loved - something wild lapping water in the dark - I can hear it - as well as the tiny wings beating the glass - the hushed breaths and whisper.

Perfect ending - it is here - I loved you best.

The slow tear away of a heart clinging with hopeful arms reaching for a future together - this
is the saddest of all - it isn't a sudden rip and gone - fast, painful, and over - it is a slow
knife dragged through the fleshlike surface of our devotion to another.

Is there ever an easy or kind way to stop loving a person? I think maybe not.

But when you love - as you have - you never stop completely and you remember
those moments - when you loved "best"

Fantastic Poem - you are a wonderful writer.

[Winter McPherson]

This is beautiful. It really gave me a feeling. A tenderness. My favorite lines:
"I would have died for you,

but you weaned me from your life

with little shocks, one by one."
Sad how that happens

And -
"A sad whisper escapes my lips.

The aspen will not betray my words

until November winds wrench out my secret:



"It was here I loved you best."



Lovely, absolutely lovely.

[Dani California]

WoooooowWW!!

Toni... this is amazing! Absolutely amazing..
I teared ... truly.

I would have died for you,
but you weaned me from your life
with little shocks, one by one.
A sad whisper escapes my lips.
The aspen will not betray my words
until November winds wrench out my secret:

"It was here I loved you best."


I cannot put into words... how beautiful and heartbreaking this stanza is.

I'm in awe...

[Wildfleour]

Toni - This actually brought tears to my eyes. I absolutely love everything about it. Your flashback within a flashback was outstanding. Bravo, my friend, bravo!

[Thomas James Martin]

This is beautiful poetry with your remarkable feel for nature ever present. Your images are breathtaking. I did not read the prior version, but this is wonderful and sad.

Tom

[Emily B]

oh, wow, I loved like that once.

[Fabian G. Franklin]

"J" sent this my way and I am really glad. This was fabulous. I love this, "sunlight knifes the stale mice stench" yeah, that is way cool. But I love the whole thing! This is 100 plus on any scale. I like this broken thought prose and the way it wanders. My admiration to the author.