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Enter a Cloud BY W. S. GRAHAM Rewrite

Gently disintegrate me
Said nothing at all.
 
Is there still time to say
Said I myself lying
In a bower of bramble
Into which I have fallen.
 
Look through my eyes up
At blue with not anything
We could have ever arranged
Slowly taking place.
 
Above the spires of the fox
Gloves and above the bracken
Tops with their young heads
Recognising the wind,
The armies of the empty
Blue press me further
Into Zennor Hill.
 
If I half-close my eyes
The spiked light leaps in
And I am here as near
Happy as I will get
In the sailing afternoon.

Gently dying
I said nothing at all

Is their still time to say  
I'm lying in a tower of thorns in which I've fallen 
    
Look into my eyes, at the skies 
The beauty, their up, we couldn't have arranged 

Slowly taking place, above the blades of grass, foxes' den
the thickets top, their young's heads recognizing the wind 
and, the empty foes, pressed me further into Sheol 

If I half-close my eyes, sharp light leaps in, and
I'm here, as near at peace as I'll ever be, in the sailing afternoon. 

Editing stage: 
Workshop: 

Comments

My sincere apologies if I insult you indirectly Barbara, but this is junk. The thoughts are nice certainly, but there is so little organization, so little form I can't easily call it poetry. The line breaks seem utterly arbitrary. Many of the sentences are so obtuse that it is difficult for me to determine where a sentence (thought) begins or ends. A little punctuation would have helped immensely, but in my final analysis this could have been formatted in a paragraph and not gain or lose anything.
It's prose.
AND... he too capitalized the first letter of each line regardless of sentence structure. This capitalization thing is burnin' through my Effexor.

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

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everything that I wish that I had said; before he said it! Wesley, you keep getting there before me! LOL
I doubt that I might have said it better, and most likely, would not have as well. I too like the sentiment, but the form left it sitting in the dust. By the way Wesley, did you mean that you will get letters for this critique?~ Gee

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This is a kind of personal pastoral. There is some gentle freeform meter. There is an interesting dichotomy between the idyllic and the savage. The arbitrary lines breaks Wesley refers to are sometimes effective enjambment.

It doesn't strive to great heights. How to improve it It needs to be written with stronger language to emaphasise the dichotomy. Words like wild, savagery, sanctuary.

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet Directors

Interesting choice of poem and artist. Can't say I've read or encountered him before, but I'm delighted you brought him to my attention!
Initially, what threw me, was trying to track down the genuine poem entitled ENTER A CLOUD, by said poet. All I could find was this -
"Above the spires of the fox
Gloves and above the bracken
Tops with their young heads
Recognising the wind,
The armies of the empty
Blue press me further
Into Zennor Hill."
What has now confused me even more, is why you would put this in as a verse in your poem, unacknowledged. Is the first half of the poem yours and the rest the original? I think if it were set out a little more clearly, it would be easier to go about offering a critique. Perhaps you could do so, and I could come back!
Thanks
Boni
For those who wish to read up more - www.readingroom.spl.org.uk/close_encounters/burnside.htm
Before I get to critique your piece, thought it would be interesting for all "would be critics" to read what Graham himself had said of his craft.
"Language becomes us. The ram
At large moves through this huge
Utterance in which we lie
Homelessly face to face."

Bonitaj

page so we can compare them

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet Directors

@ Bonitj i posted this straight from the website as Graham had it written. I do not piece poems together with that of another, I rewrite them.
These assumptions of me cheating seen to be a pattern these days. A school mate made a ridiculous assumption this week and had to be reprove for even letting the imply leave his filthy mouth. I have added a link at the bottom of the poem to the website this was taken from. (:-(

@ Jess, I have not rewritten this poem yet, I as waiting for your direction to rewrite. I will do so now. (:~)

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author comment

Tis obviously I, that was confused! Two things!
a) this was my first critique and I couldn't find the rest of the poem - apart from what looked liked a "piece-meal" put together poem - that didnt make much sense. So much for the original!
b) I didn't suspect any knavery on your part. What would be the point on such a visible site?
Apologies, if that's how it came across!
Look forward to reading your interpretation!
Thanks
Boni

Bonitaj

I can see how you got confused.

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author comment

I posted this because I like the title and the meaning it expressed. I see it needs some improvement to really bring the images to the front, for they are hidden behind what wesley has said in his comment. Rather harsh on the poor poet, but truly it needs more work

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author comment

You can see it is far more than that.

Gently disintegrate me, Said nothing at all. Is there still time to say, said i myself lying in a bower of bramble into which i have fallen. look through my eyes up at blue with not anything we could have ever arranged slowly taking place. Above the spires of the fox gloves and above the bracken tops with their young heads recognising the wind, the armies of the empty blue press me further into zennor hill. if i half-close my eyes the spiked light leaps in and i am here as near happy as i will get in the sailing afternoon.

Barbara, I think this needs to include a wider variety of emotion and more savagery of nature. The words "happy" and sailing" feel incongruous

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet Directors

I will keep these suggest in mind we I rewrite

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author comment

consideration, I see where this prose/poetry might be going.
My take on this one, is like this.

My eyes look up at the blue.
What we might have arranged
is slowly taking place.
Above the spires of foxglove,
the braxen tops.
Their young heads recognise the wind.
The empty army-blues, press me farther into Zennor Hill,
and through half-closed eyes, spiked light leaps in.
I'm here, near happy as I'll ever be,
in this sailing-afternoon.

Does this do it justice? ~ Gee

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i like your rewrite.
Where you say :
My eyes look up at the blue.
What we might have arranged

The meaning I got is
'my eyes look up at the blue
What we could not have arranged'
The beauty of the heavens as he sees his life pass before him

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author comment

that there is a distinction. It doesn't mean the same; as I re-wrote it. I'm glad you liked it though. ~ Gee

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N.B. Please post your edit/ re-write as a poem straight after the original in the same box, so we can compare them directly. Do not post as a comment on the thread or on a separate page. Click edit and paste your work in directly after the original poem.

In other words both poems, the original and the edit/rewrite should appear in the post. Sorry if I was unclear

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet Directors

i had them both posted earlier , somehow they both got deleted whild doing some editing. i tried to repost them both, but had problems getting it done last night. So I will be reposting the original now.

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author comment

Barbara!
You've come so close to the original and yet made it easier for the everyday reader to pick up and comprehend. My only gripe is with the last line. Just put the original, words in inverted comas, 'cause - I can't imagine anyone but a poet of that era saying "in the sailing afternoon" ;)
Well done!
Boni

Bonitaj

i didn't want to change the poem just rewrite in a more coherent style. I keeping the last line was better kept in. But I agree sailing afternoon is something unimagined for our day. I thought it saved a little of the spice from that era. What would you have said.

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author comment

after reading your comment i realize i miss a point you made. I not so adept with inverted commas. I thought wanted me to rephrase the last lines.

*Collaborative Poetry Workshop* Amqerican Version of Japanese Poetry ~American Renga~ Free Verse, Western, Modern, etc ~ Renga ~ Haiku, Senyru, Tanka, Renga All Neopoets are welcome to join the Collaborative Poetry Writing fun.

author comment

bloody well done. I forgot to include my skinhead re-write on this one-
fuck these brambles
let's go get pissed.

Thanks for being part of this workshop and for your feedback

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet Directors

the rewrite wasn't too hard. I just tried to write what ininterpreyed his poem to mean. Glad its an improvement.

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author comment

Since I research what I am unfamiliar with I found the entirety of this poem is 5 parts. Without knowledge & reading the 5 parts, imo, it would serve no one to *critique* it.

We're shooting blanks into the darkness. His work is, quite enormous. c

By W. S. Graham
1

Gently disintegrate me
Said nothing at all.

Is there still time to say
Said I myself lying
In a bower of bramble
Into which I have fallen.

Look through my eyes up
At blue with not anything
We could have ever arranged
Slowly taking place.

Above the spires of the fox
Gloves and above the bracken
Tops with their young heads
Recognising the wind,
The armies of the empty
Blue press me further
Into Zennor Hill.

If I half-close my eyes
The spiked light leaps in
And I am here as near
Happy as I will get
In the sailing afternoon.

2

Enter a cloud. Between
The head of Zennor and
Gurnard’s Head the long
Marine horizon makes
A blue wall or is it
A distant table-top
Of the far-off simple sea.

Enter a cloud. O cloud,
I see you entering from
Your west gathering yourself
Together into a white
Headlong. And now you move
And stream out of the Gurnard,
The west corner of my eye.

Enter a cloud. The cloud’s
Changing shape is crossing
Slowly only an inch
Above the line of the sea.
Now nearly equidistant
Between Zennor and Gurnard’s
Head, an elongated
White anvil is sailing
Not wanting to be a symbol.

3

Said nothing at all.

And proceeds with no idea
Of destination along
The sea bearing changing
Messages. Jean in London,
Lifting a cup, looking
Abstractedly out through
Her Hampstead glass will never
Be caught by your new shape
Above the chimneys. Jean,
Jean, do you not see
This cloud has been thought of
And written on Zennor Hill.

4

The cloud is going beyond
What I can see or make.
Over up-country maybe
Albert Strick stops and waves
Caught in the middle of teeling
Broccoli for the winter.
The cloud is not there yet.

From Gurnard's Head to Zennor
Head the level line
Crosses my eyes lying
On buzzing Zennor Hill.

The cloud is only a wisp
And gone behind the Head.
It is funny I got the sea's
Horizontal slightly surrealist.
Now when I raise myself
Out of the bracken I see
The long empty blue
Between the fishing Gurnard
And Zennor. It was a cloud
The language at my time's
Disposal made use of.

5

Thank you. And for your applause.
It has been a pleasure. I
Have never enjoyed speaking more.
May I also thank the real ones
Who have made this possible.
First, the cloud itself. And now
Gurnard's Head and Zennor
Head. Also recognise
How I have been helped
By Jean and Madron's Albert
Strick (He is a real man.)
And good words like brambles,
Bower, spiked, fox, anvil, teeling.

The bees you heard are from
A hive owned by my friend
Garfield down there below
In the house by Zennor Church.

The good blue sun is pressing
Me into Zennor Hill.

Gently disintegrate me
Said nothing at all.

http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/243040

Thanks

*Collaborative Poetry Workshop* Amqerican Version of Japanese Poetry ~American Renga~ Free Verse, Western, Modern, etc ~ Renga ~ Haiku, Senyru, Tanka, Renga All Neopoets are welcome to join the Collaborative Poetry Writing fun.

author comment

I did realize it had five parts but choose to post only one. In section this way make good neither is to long.

*Collaborative Poetry Workshop* Amqerican Version of Japanese Poetry ~American Renga~ Free Verse, Western, Modern, etc ~ Renga ~ Haiku, Senyru, Tanka, Renga All Neopoets are welcome to join the Collaborative Poetry Writing fun.

author comment
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