When we look through the tree stand, we can see the other side
through layers of graying woods, alternating with slotted gaps. Trees stripped bare by winter’s harsh lifelessness, surround by the fallen remnants of birches and oaks, where roots dig beneath the leaves and twigs. The ground creaks and snaps underfoot, like old bones. The clattered floor covers the evidence of spring and summer’s past, a grave in sedimentary layers, clarified by sunlit crevices, until the day the renewing growth returns and conceals its dead.

Nicely done, Marflow, good to see you posting again.

Les

Thanks Les. poetry has been elusive for me lately.

The poetry in this, marflow, demonstrates that poetry has not been entirely elusive, however.

Peter

thanks Peter Is there something about this poem (for you) that is particularly good, bad, or just OK? I welcome some feedback.

Marflow

marflow,

When we look through the tree stand, we can see the other side
through layers of graying woods, alternating with slotted gaps.

This is both an stunning image and a suitable life-metaphor, since poems are always about what they say they are about and about how it is to be in the world, life. I don't shy from getting metaphorical and metaphysical with what a poet says.

Trees stripped bare by winter’s harsh lifelessness, surround[ed] by the fallen remnants of birches and oaks, where roots dig beneath the leaves and twigs. The ground creaks and snaps underfoot, like old bones. The clattered floor covers the evidence of spring and summer’s past, a grave in sedimentary layers, clarified by sunlit crevices, until the day the renewing growth returns and conceals its dead.

Throughout, the detailed imagery keeps me going into your wood, into the autumn you share and its demonstration that dying is an integral part of living.

Although you make room for subtle, resonances throughout with your word choices, the piece lacks the elevation of paradox and the tension of ambiguity of language infused with passion...that I miss here, but the precision of your wording makes up for that in some measure. So the phrasing is both its greatest strength and its 'flaw.'

I guess I am trying to say it does not have the 'poetic' tension of a prose poem, although it eschews the artificial devices that can make a poem dead formalism...rhyme, meter, traditional stanza form ...which makes it thoroughly Modern. And it is almost dumb of me to look for what it is not trying to do.

Good job,

Peter

notice I have not avoided a personal, 'subjective' approach to this poem because I prefer an engaged, 'interested' response that someone else might not want to duplicate in reading it. My reading is quite idiosyncratic. I hope you don't mind. I know it might not be much help to you.

PSZ

Peter
Thanks for the more detailed response. I appreciate your comment on word choice, as I did carefully word this poem. I had a simple idea, and I inentionally avoided poetic devices (or at least obvious ones). I agree there was not much passion and paradox here, as it was somewhat of an exercise more than a artistic piece. That being said, I don't find your explanation of your reading idiosynchratic. All readings/interpretations should include subjectivity, and your thoughts on the poem are just as valuable as the next person's.

Thanks,
Marflow