the sun sinks
behind the blue ridge mountains
hiding from itself
heading south on eighty-one
Shenandoah sky all lit up
like the birth of god
I daydream of the perfect plot
to drop my house
skyline view from every room
just hidden enough to
have a smoke on the front porch
in my nightshirt
like the womb of Mother,
where it opens to the Father
where life starts,
curled in the misty earth
drawn up by the rays of dawn
just past Broadway
a weathered trailer's window
mocks us with its
faded 'federate flag
and I think,
well.
isn't that nice.
First draft. Again, no boats. I do not write about boats.
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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I daydream of the perfect plot
to drop my house
skyline view from every room
love the use of 'skyline'. i think it's a beautiful word.
i enjoyed your ending, but my only suggestion is maybe make it a little bit stronger? -
A beautiful piece in many ways. I grew up in a very small area, with a mother of southern descent, and your poem brings me back to the best parts of my childhood. . . as well as some of my favorite folk music. This rings home to me, and obviously to quite a few others! You've captured an indescribable feeling in this piece, and that alone is a feat to be very proud of.
Pleasure to read. <3
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What a shame, because I was thinking, all this poem needs is a boat!
The only problems that I spotted in this fabulous poem is in the penultimate stanza, you say that the trailer's window mocks "us," but up 'til that point, I thought you were alone.
Also, I know the final question is rhetorical, but I think it should have a question mark after it.
I can relate to this poem because I have done the same thing on many occasions. -
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If you've ever heard someone from the south say, "Well, isn't that nice," you'd know it was not in any way a question.
The "us" issue is something I'm debating myself.
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i live elsewhere now, but i am originally from Virginia. i can totally relate to the imagery of this poem. when i drive down 81 back to where i grew up, the closer i get to 'home' - a long valley nestled in the hills - the more i think the scenery starts to look like paradise. but near where i am from the gorgeous land is maculate with shacks and rusting trailers. there are few jobs to be had in the area, many people who choose to continue to live there have it hard - like poverty is the price of paradise. but on the other hand there is not enough interest in the area for hoards of people to come in and destroy the land with elaborate construction and industry. in my dreams i become a famous writer to be able to aford to go back there and live. well...i can dream.
anyway your poem took me back there for a moment. your fourth stanza in particular captured the essence, the feeling of being among the blue ridge mountains. the metaphor of the womb was especially lovely and spoke to me. - NANGALEEMA
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needs work, but decent start
this is muddled some. let's define the themes you're playing with here, to be aware of them.
1) slight reference to shame in the first stanza
2) a yearning for privacy without having to give up the outside world completely in the third
3) a reference to a new beginning, wrapped up in spiritual/rebirth language referred to in the second and fourth stanzas
4) a break from these musings leading to a shift in rhetoric with the last line. a jarring from beauty to ugliness that leads to a bittersweet rumination
part of the mud here i think comes from the juxtapositioning of a multitude of themes, which is very difficult to achieve in so short a space. so the first thing id recommend is looking at whether you intend to use all of these themes, and if not, to eliminate what you dont intend from the piece
questions to ask thematically:
what it seems to me that yr trying to do here is lay out a this could be it. this beautiful place could be it. a new beginning. omgomgomg this could be... fuck. same old shit.
if that's what you're trying to do i recommend more description of the beauty first, build it to a crescendo (beauty beauty Beauty BEAUTY OMGBEAUTY) and then a more jarring transition to the flag and a more bitter less sweet recrimination at the end
the rest of it
your language is great here, really the trouble is organization and streamlining of undercurrent. let me know when you come back to this, i'd like to see where you go with it.
mwah.
(let me know if you like this approach better <3) -
We have similar land along Highway 1 North. Endless fields of gold and oak, and then the delapidated farm houses and Fords. Its charming in one way, but in another makes you wonder "Don't you realize what a beautiful place this is? How can you let these go to rot here?"
Then again, some people just don't care. It's a shame.
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