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A stranger breeze

This is the wind that blew in uninvited;
a stray note, wafted from the car in front,
I followed it home, that hand uncurled lightly
through the passenger window,
conducting the planing air, smoothing
Frail as crepe paper, yet cured by a touched care.
Look, what this sound could be:
in the strange concert of night, unseen friend,
a warble as you career around the bend.

But what then. Should the note ever end?
Of course, but by its longitude,
and in its own time, veer
out of its frequency cage by many scales,
and drawn long down dark roads, to here.

So I worry less about those things.
But what of the birds, who ceaseless call
from morning, until the night sing.
They too will be gone,
when dawn is at her tapering end.
That is the sweet spot, brief, and unobserved.
But then, what of my love, who strings
fervent at the end of the world?
Then I should find her,
and all that's held,
And in the folds of finding,
a great garland brocade
will be unfurled.

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Last few words: 
Yet more alterations, sharpening the image a little I hope.
Editing stage: 

Comments

as you are in my opinion one of the better craftsman of poetry on this site, I always give you my all.
In the first part, not sure why a car pulling in to the gravel (of a driveway?) is uninvited.
The image of the map is not clear.
I cannot get the love "whose strings at the end of the world", turning the noun into a verb..
She (her) is introduced at the last lines, and I cannot connect her to the poem- the concert in the night birds ..but birds do indeed call in the morning- they are horny 24/7.
Unfurled is really a flag or banner to me, i don't have a set up for it...

I can't find the thread in this one... but still a fan!

Eumolpus
I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance
ee cummings

In the car I was following. Again listening to Beethoven, obscure, yes, but also immensely enjoyable playing with the the theme and tone. Thanks for the suggestions, hope you like the re-write.

Soon, I will be back in the land of constant connectivity - i am not sure if that's a good thing or not?

Thanks Eumo, appreciated as always. (My Rilke)

Chris.

Chris Hall - Tasmania

Grossbooted draymen rolled barrels dullthudding out of Prince's stores and bumped them up on the brewery float. On the brewery float bumped dullthudding barrels rolled by grossbooted draymen out of Prince's stores.

author comment

I am creating my own ars poetica about modern poetry, and I feel there are 2 major forces at work-
"confessional" poems- the poet laying it all out on the page, bleeding on the page, and "abstract angel" poetry (based on lit. crit.of Wallace Stevens) in which the poet hides behind the image, creating his own detached universe in the poem. Your, and my, best poems are those that do a little of both. (so with Heany...) we know what the poem is about, we fell the presence of the poet, we also feel an abstract emotion, a truth, deriving from the poem that is felt in the poetic center of the brain.

Too much of one or another don't make for a complete piece. So I find the vast majority of poems published in Poetry, America's premier magazine, to be totally incomprehensible and I defy anybody to prove me otherwise. It is why most people don't like poetry. They went totally musee d'art moderne. On the other hand, just confessional poetry does not move me without some abstraction, something outside the poet's universe. It may be cathartic, and often emotional, but lacks depth. Most rap and performance poetry is just confessional, some on the level of being obnoxious nursery rhymes with sexual content. But it's still confessional..

Here in your poem you have an idea to explore and you do so finding that fine line between the two poetry forces. Do you agree?

Your great sense of words is a strong tool- there seems to be some Welch in you, even if you are a native Tasmanian, with that special language common to poets of that dialect.

Eumolpus
I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance
ee cummings

These two forces you are describing, they are exactly what I can't articulate about what I want my poetry to achieve.

I am at my parent's house until around the 6th, but after then that I will have a look at my book on contemporary poetry and that I've been meaning to read and see if it has anything pertinent. And I will check out Stevens ASAP.

Truly a breakthrough, thank you!!
Kelsey

Advocates Coordinator

Critique, don't comment. Neopoet is a workshop and is designed to share your poetry, receive and make critique of the work posted, and most importantly, for you to evolve as a poet.

www.kelsey-burroughs.weebly.com

It is a real task..to walk away from that which we're "supposed to do" and that which we are "disposed to do" - to find our true voice, and it can take a long time, maybe a lifetime!

Cheers,

Chris.

Chris Hall - Tasmania

Grossbooted draymen rolled barrels dullthudding out of Prince's stores and bumped them up on the brewery float. On the brewery float bumped dullthudding barrels rolled by grossbooted draymen out of Prince's stores.

author comment

Hey Eumo, I wrote a great rambling response to your comments, but then my shabby internet connection on this island of the marooned crapped out, and it all got lost. In essence, what I was trying to say, was like Jeremy Paxman from the BBC, who railed against the tide of “incomprehensible poetry” that was entering the T.S. Elliot prize, and the Guardian, the TLS etc. actually detached the reader, due to its “indulgence”.
I get this. I understand what you mean by the image, and the poetic drama being played out in a very subjective sense. That’s not my intention really, ever – I have a fragment, or a clip of experience and then I write around that image or experience, trying to extract a sense of feeling. Neither confessional, nor bleeding, I attempt to explore the actual experience. It is immediate, initially, then revised, but undiluted – I don’t attempt to understand it always, nor explain it, but hope for that “telepathic shock” of recognition in simple image and inference by the reader.
I think that there is a fine line, between obscurity, and relatable narrative that can be achieved, even if at first glance, or read, it seems a little obscure. It did /does require more work, I am mindful of this, and I hope the re-write gives a little more clarity. Yeats had his mask, and so did Thomas, and Ted Hughes, if you can get into him buried his fury in the collision and fracture of naturalistic imagery – hopefully I am working towards something that breaks the line in a way that is discernable, and immediate – but original. I’ll keep trying. Thank you for your insight and comments, it really does make a lot of sense. Poetry shouldn’t be some something spoon-fed and instantly obtainable, yet, it shouldn’t alienate the reader. Good thoughts. Thank you as always.

Chris.

Chris Hall - Tasmania

Grossbooted draymen rolled barrels dullthudding out of Prince's stores and bumped them up on the brewery float. On the brewery float bumped dullthudding barrels rolled by grossbooted draymen out of Prince's stores.

author comment

Scottish, which is ironic, as there are more Scottish place names down here, than I can recall in Scotland! But, yes that too may be an influence, have you read any Norman MacCaig? He's great:

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/norman-maccaig

Cheers.

Chris Hall - Tasmania

Grossbooted draymen rolled barrels dullthudding out of Prince's stores and bumped them up on the brewery float. On the brewery float bumped dullthudding barrels rolled by grossbooted draymen out of Prince's stores.

author comment

Your work stands out. Pleasure to read.
The challenge of describing an everyday life in fresh sparkling words is well taken.
Good luck writing

IRiz

I do try to take everyday small observations, and then extend them into further possibilities. thanks for your input.

Chris.

PS I checked out your poetry Google plus site, very cool!

Chris Hall - Tasmania

Grossbooted draymen rolled barrels dullthudding out of Prince's stores and bumped them up on the brewery float. On the brewery float bumped dullthudding barrels rolled by grossbooted draymen out of Prince's stores.

author comment

Chris,
Small details make a story big.
Keep writing:)

IRiz

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