i will not
write
of war

that bestiality
of man

for death
squats
on my shoulder
so

i’ll sing
of leaves bursting
with spring
and of a summer’s lust
for sun
on poppies
that will never know
the thunder
from bewildered
guns

i’ll miracle
the rain
to wine
until the fall
of night

brings out
the bats
to flirt
with shooting stars

fireflies
go waltzing
into hush
of oaks

let me be the first to applaud this piece, milner
it thrills the tongue to speak these words

Stella

very powerful and well executed.


james

That last S most lovely, Milner. Tom

Wow, you did it.  That is what we are all tryng to do.  Yes.   Yes. 

love the title - M

You've got the sound down pat, just plain lovely.

This is so lovely Milner, My priviledge to pick it.

I have a couple of suggestions

nix "of a" from here...and of a summer’s lust
 and "the" and "spouted" from here...

the thunder
spouted
from bewildered
guns

Stella, what s wondrous compliment, 'it thrills the tongue'. As you know, I've been working in this form for a while now, and it's so rewarding to feel that like a carpenter I'm getting a degree of proficiency with my tools. Many thanks

milner

Milner, very much enjoyed this - great feel about it. The lines in this unique compared to other writing:

i’ll miracle
the rain
to wine
until the fall
of night

Awesome.

Thanks, James, Tom.

Wow to that comment, Quentin.

Now to Michelle, Larry, Michelle, Casey, and to Sue for the pick, my gratitiude.

All this applause from those I so respect is very warming.

Cheers

milner

a wonderful write! 
i add my applause!

tiko

how well this reads, milner! 

very much admire how you wove poppies into the S with bewildered guns; the power to miracle the rain; and just about everything about this poem.

the final S -- i like for how it ends on the strength of that oak.  For me, there may be a little push to the wording that seems maybe poeticized ... then again, you well know how often I miss on these early reads and over-analyzing thoughts -- so feel free to ignore.

lynn

let me bow down & kiss your ring!

Thanks, Lynn.

'For me, there may be a little push to the wording that seems maybe poeticized'

I believe that most of the 'push' came when I was revising the first draft and concentrating on sound. This raises an interesting point in that today, maybe, there is more of a conflict between on the page and the oral aspect of poetry. In previous eras poetry was much more frequently read aloud to audiences, and, of course, Shakespeare's work with its marvellous sonourness was written for the stage. The question, in this case, for me, is can I rewrite the poem with such skill as to satisfy fully both the 'on the page' and 'oral delivery' of the poem. Further thought required.

Your bow returned, Rashmi. I wear no ring.

Cheers

milner

Interesting to read something of your process, here Milner. 

Thanks, Sue. As my own preference is for poetry in which the sound is integral, that element is important. But that is no rule for others, only consistent with my own tastes, which react positively to poetry with both intellectual and emotional content, and, for me, the sound can be so important.

Sorry I'm remiss with comment on others' work at the moment - very busy.

milner

the last stanza, simply sublime

Thanks, James. Having read your recent post I was tempted to use 'baobabs' instead of 'oaks' - but one syllable suits the rhythm better. Near 60 years ago I was working in a copper mine, in the Northern Transvaal, and the low veldt was dotted with those strange stark shapes. The fun came with the annual rains, when suddenly they donned green hats and briefly looked like fat duchesses at a race meeting. Thanks for the memory.

Cheers

milner

I really enjoyed this, Mil, but it got a little wordy. Made some chops to tighten.  Maggie

i will not
write
of war

that bestiality
of man

for death
squats
on my shoulder
so * So seems so..., Mil. What about instead?
instead

i’ll sing of spring
of a summer’s lust
for sun
to cast its cyclops eye
on fecund
of poppie buds

that will never know
the thunder
spouted
from bewildered
guns

i’ll miracle
the rain
to wine
until the fall
of night

brings out
the bats
to flirt
with shooting stars

fireflies
go waltzing
into hush
of oaks

Thanks, Maggie, I've made some changes as you suggest. I've stuck with 'so' for reasons of sound, and also if that stanza is taken on its own it carries a different reading there. I've also kept 'bewildered' because to me it evokes the seemingly shocked reaction of the guns in recoil.

Most useful - thanks again.

milner