Because, at four, I stood tip-toe on a hill
And smelled the smoke and felt the flare of the burning;
Because at fifteen, in the Festival
I picked paths through the waste and willow-herb
- A short-cut to the Tower for dollar-tourists;
Because I brought meat-scraps and milk for the cats,
Faithfully mousing ghosts of offices
Unto the tenth and twentieth generation;
Because I watched the long booms of the cranes
Playing cratch-cradle in the winter sky,
And the walls rise slab by slab and course by course -
Whether you praise this building or dispraise it
I cannot agree - to a mother her children are always lovely.
A contest entry
- Because some things in life starts with 'because'. by Virgoan.
700 points, ended October 26, 14 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
PLEASE DO NOT FEEL OBLIGED TO COMMENT - but if you do comment, please understand that it may be some time before I can respond
Comments
1 - 11 of 11
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The best poetry, to me, is the kind that the reader is left to ponder on; to decided for themselves what the catalyst for the piece is. This wonderful poem does that, and even left me with a surprise at the end, as I felt that I knew, right until the very end, where it was going. (I love that when it happens!) I've gone back several times, now, and read it again, trying to decide what that "building" is. (Your own life, perhaps; the walls rising slab by slab, course by course.) I like a good mystery! Wonderful work! Most enjoyable read.
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You had some cool metaphorical images in here. I like it.
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Thank you for your appreciation.
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There is wonderful, beautiful use of language in this poem. The subject of the poem is known to the author, and it is rendered for readers in imagery by turns concrete and abstract. Readers, on the other hand, are enjoined by what the author does not say to imagine the constructions of their own minds or histories as they watch this poem rising in their consciences.
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I like the narrative approach with the subtleness encased within the piece. As if I was there watching or probably doing it.
This is my favorite part:
Because I watched the long booms of the cranes
Playing cratch-cradle in the winter sky,
And the walls rise slab by slab and course by course -
The effectiove slight-repetition plus alliteration makes this piece something to ponder.
Thanks for sharing.
HENSLEY
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because I like this, I have to leave some yellow clappies...
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I really liked this, the poem sort of built up slowly just like the construction of a building or the growing of a person. It all wrapped up nicely. Good job!
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Vera
I say: the Blitz, the Festival of Britain, that all, pink, Rose Bay Willow-Herb, old bomb-sites overgrown, new buildinggs going up all over the place.
Fathers also. I was utterly convinced that our first baby would be chosen as Cow and Gate Baby of the Year, and that other parents secretly would have exchanged their rat-faced babies any day! Now, as grand-father, of course I have no such silly thoughts.....
I liked your slightly irreverent version of 'The sins of fathers shall be referred upon sons to the third and fourth generations'. Nostalgic-- but not just nostalgic.
Very good, I enjoyed.
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I enjoyed the tone of nostalgia, the sparse imagery and the unexpected ending to this piece.
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Och, this is fine!
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Dads too
Great stuff, it's always good to see a new Vera
Very thoughtful and thought provoking
Jeff
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