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That spring I felt
the green buds open
on skeletal trees.

Near a winding path of ash
as the river grew ripe
in the slanting sun,

thoughts became places.

We watched the
Sunday-best children,
impaled on shining
communion medals,
smile at a camera`s
jagged edge.

The sky turned to dying lilac.

And I remember
watching you walk away in
a heaviness of thunder
and the first drops falling

like winter-tipped arrows.

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The following comments are for "Kelvingrove Park, 1976"
by eliot

Rich as Croesus...
... in gilded well-judged images. Delicious to read - particularly the 'Sunday-best children' stanza. Something about the final line fell oddly to my ear: the weakness of ending on a unclosed simile, I think. I might try something like

'... and the first arrows falling

winter-tipped from a sullen sky'

Just a thought. Lovely poem, anyway.

( Posted by: MobiusSoul [Member] On: February 25, 2006 )

Good Point
Good point, Lucie.
I think this would possibly read better if "felt" were changed to "watched"-ie
"That spring I watched
the green buds open
on skeletal trees."
Thank you both for the feedback.

( Posted by: eliot [Member] On: February 26, 2006 )

For what it's worth...
... I disagree: I actually liked the way you 'felt' the buds open and the river grow ripe. It's just the sort of synthesis that ought to occur in moments of zen-like happiness, alive and at one with nature, when 'thoughts become places'. The three lines painted enough of a picture for me, and the rest of the poem seemed to follow quite naturally.

( Posted by: MobiusSoul [Member] On: February 27, 2006 )

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