...quiet, about a lot of things...
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Headline news for Poetry Thursday
Udated again...
I asked Twitches to help edit this...DANG! SHE IS GOOD.. and I don't even feel like pulling her hair out. I think she's done me justice..Thanks TWITCHES. YOU SO ROCK!!!
Amish Schoolhouse
Plow this schoolhouse under
with it take their bones.
God offers Nature bodies
Small,no more than stones
strewn upon this meadow.
Left upon this place.
Let winter cover often,
leave not but a trace.
Wood will be splintered.
Leaving only dust behind
to mix with the nails.
To break the ties that bind.
Please, grow no flowers here.
Let the beauty leave.
Have it as an ungrown field
lest they not believe.
Dust we all begin
To dust we must return.
No matter what our years.
Nor hate we did not earn.
wlf..with a little housekeepin' from my friend TWITCHES!
Updated:
I'm very guilty of throwing udone poetry up on this blog..like spagetti on the wall. For those that read the first version..I apologize for it stiffness. Below is an edited version...still not quite right yet but better...
Amish Schoolhouse
Wood will be splintered.
Leaving only dust behind
to mix with the nails.
To break the ties that bind.
Dust they began.
So,to dust they must return.
No matter their years.
Nor hate they did not earn.
Uprooted by their pigtailed heads
plucked, careless as a weed.
Left thrown aside, tender roots
never to bear seed.
Plow this schoolhouse under
with it take their bones.
God offers Nature bodies
Small,no more than stones
strewn upon this meadow.
Left upon this place.
Let winter cover often,
leave not but a trace.
Yet, grow no flowers here
This pasture must remain
Barren, in the springtime.
Barren for the pain.
Barren with the hatred.
Barren with the fears
Barren for the children
Barren for the tears.
Please, grow no flowers here.
Let the beauty leave.
Have it as an ungrown field
lest they not believe.
Dust we all begin
To dust we must return.
No matter what our years.
Nor hate we did not earn.
wlf 8:30
More at Poetry Thursday
I asked Twitches to help edit this...DANG! SHE IS GOOD.. and I don't even feel like pulling her hair out. I think she's done me justice..Thanks TWITCHES. YOU SO ROCK!!!
Amish Schoolhouse
Plow this schoolhouse under
with it take their bones.
God offers Nature bodies
Small,no more than stones
strewn upon this meadow.
Left upon this place.
Let winter cover often,
leave not but a trace.
Wood will be splintered.
Leaving only dust behind
to mix with the nails.
To break the ties that bind.
Please, grow no flowers here.
Let the beauty leave.
Have it as an ungrown field
lest they not believe.
Dust we all begin
To dust we must return.
No matter what our years.
Nor hate we did not earn.
wlf..with a little housekeepin' from my friend TWITCHES!
Updated:
I'm very guilty of throwing udone poetry up on this blog..like spagetti on the wall. For those that read the first version..I apologize for it stiffness. Below is an edited version...still not quite right yet but better...
Amish Schoolhouse
Wood will be splintered.
Leaving only dust behind
to mix with the nails.
To break the ties that bind.
Dust they began.
So,to dust they must return.
No matter their years.
Nor hate they did not earn.
Uprooted by their pigtailed heads
plucked, careless as a weed.
Left thrown aside, tender roots
never to bear seed.
Plow this schoolhouse under
with it take their bones.
God offers Nature bodies
Small,no more than stones
strewn upon this meadow.
Left upon this place.
Let winter cover often,
leave not but a trace.
Yet, grow no flowers here
This pasture must remain
Barren, in the springtime.
Barren for the pain.
Barren with the hatred.
Barren with the fears
Barren for the children
Barren for the tears.
Please, grow no flowers here.
Let the beauty leave.
Have it as an ungrown field
lest they not believe.
Dust we all begin
To dust we must return.
No matter what our years.
Nor hate we did not earn.
wlf 8:30
More at Poetry Thursday
Labels: Poetry Thursday
15 Comments:
I saw them tearing it down on the news this morning; very sad; your poem is wonderful
Yes! The last four stanzas are especially strong.
This happened not too terribly far from where I live--so I was immediately drawn to see what you wrote about it. Very powerful...
Powerful--the driving rhythm is well-suited to the desperation and fear that those poor children felt, but you can also feel the strength of their faith through the images of nature, of plowing, of being close to the land.
Love the last two stanzas in particular.
Wendy,
Perhaps you think it needs more polish, but as it stands it is deeply penetrating.
rel
I would not normally do this, but since you asked(!):
Personally, I think some of these stanzas can just go, and I reordered them, too. Some are just tight as they are, and the others, to me, are simply watering down the really strong ones, repeating the sentiment, which reduces the power of the poem.
Amish Schoolhouse
Plow this schoolhouse under
with it take their bones.
God offers Nature bodies
Small,no more than stones
strewn upon this meadow.
Left upon this place.
Let winter cover often,
leave not but a trace.
Wood will be splintered.
Leaving only dust behind
to mix with the nails.
To break the ties that bind.
Please, grow no flowers here.
Let the beauty leave.
Have it as an ungrown field
lest they not believe.
Dust we all begin
To dust we must return.
No matter what our years.
Nor hate we did not earn.
(I generally don't like people rewriting my stuff, so please forgive me!)
Twitches..HOW DID YOU DO THAT!!!its just what I was saying without saying too much...will you be my editor? You're gettin a shout out...YOU ROCK!!thanks
Certain stanza just jumped out at me, so give yourself credit for writing some strong stuff. I'm not a very technical writer, or editor, so leaving both versions up is a good idea. Others may have other suggestions that you like better. :)
This almost reads like a prayer. I do like the way the stanzas were reorganized.
Wendy..so sad, both versions are so sad..but so good..thanks M
That second version builds into its ideas in a way that the first one didn't. What a treat to see both version, to get to see inside what you're thinking, and to see the process unfold into a better poem. Thanks for that insight. It's a good piece, one that didn't just happen all at once. Thank you.
Oh your edits and additions made this poem even more powerful. The pigtail stanza was so sad. Excellent!
Amazing stuff - great to see the process.
The first version is good, but the second is fantastic and heartbreaking.
"Uprooted by their pigtailed heads
plucked, careless as a weed."
This image is so perfect, so painful. And I agree with Mardougrrl about the rhythm, it's perfect.
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