A landscape of rocksI see them everywhere
in my yard
in my garden
in pictures
under my feet
today, however
they seem different
not the rocks of yesterday
not rocks like I have ever known
they feel as brothers
for I feel as a rock
under foot
under hammer
sledged
sitting, I am
sitting like a rock
pounded I feel
pounded by . . .
take your pick
or axe
or pickaxe
ball pean
or
just a peon
I am
sitting
being hammered
broken
and to my rocks
I sing to my brothers
carry
me
home
4 comments:
Images of late have been stunning, this one is no exception. Absolutely!
As always, your poems start with two greatly impressive features, your image, and let me say again, simply for otherwise what would I say at Trebuchet, your artwork is incredible, and your title, representative of the poem that comes and always very connotative as it stands first, raised, above what is to come. A wonderful sound to that word also. Captured one is, in the midst of experiencing the poem as a whole before the first word of the first stanza has even entered the consciousness as existing.
Perhaps I have my own associations in regards to the word rocks, but the first stanza seems so soothing, I thought of a zen-like garden, of symmetrical formations and constancy. The however in the next is the 'second' beginning as the essence of the poem begins to see the light of today so to speak. This second stanza cements the tone that carries true and through.
under foot
under hammer
sledged
No ifs, ands or buts.
sitting, I am
sitting like a rock
pounded I feel
pounded by . . .
The repetitions work so very well, accentuating not just the words and their meanings, but the verbs needing this repetition seems to connect back to the stanza above, of the difference, the comma between sitting and I am and the pause after by gives an impression of this being written as it is thought, as it is considered, analysed, concluded. There is something distinctly appealing about that first line, the way that it is written (or read)
sitting, I am...someone with more knowledge might be able to say why, but I think that perhaps it has to do with the sounds, the clang of sitting, the double t gives it a deep sound, and the comma creates a pause as does the change from that melodic g to a very different sound, in the I, cannot explain it, but it is just superb. And from that wonderful sentence, it continues to the repetitions mentioned above, and of rock, from above to below, and another wonderful word in regards to the sound of it. The passage that reads
take your pick
or axe
or pickaxe
ball pean
or
just a peon
also, simply wonderful, for reasons again I am not sure I know how to analyse, it is surprising, and there is an interesting parity between complete seriousness and that sense of surprise at the possible choices, one wants to smile though the subject is not amusing, simply for the novelty. These couple of lines would never have found their way onto another page, although there is the theory that a bunch of monkeys given typewriters would eventually among the nonsense have typed out every word in Shakespeare's plays. I just love it, nuf said. And then the turning of the phrase regarding sitting, highlighting the reason the first was loved. And as it stands here, varied, separated, it works in the same way that the first did, accentuating, elongating, emphasizing.
being hammered
broken
Exceedingly evocative words, meaningful, direct, clear. Adding would have only taken away, broken stands alone, filling an entire line, and as for the last part, it brought tears to my eyes. Not the meaning as much as the way in which it is expressed, there is something (apologies for using this inadequate phrase constantly) about the part that reads
carry
me
home that is so affecting. It brings so many thoughts to mind.
Had more to say, but the hour has struck bedtime. :-)
Hope you have a good evening, x
Ms Storm, let it never be said you cannot comment on poetry as well if not better than on The Story. I simply want to lose myself in your words, as if, somehow, by magic, they transport me from the world upon which this poem emerged. Thank you for squeezing the stress from my frame, if just for a few moments.
:-), x
I'm just gonna say it. This poem is fucking brilliant.
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