sharpen your knives for....."tiger grief"

[mischievousgrin]

This has existed in several forms, it used to be longer but i've pared it down quite a bit. I don't consider it finished by any means, though, so any comments would be very helpful.




Consider the woman in this photograph: on her knees.
Stilled, she appears locked in a simple wail.
In fact, what’s happening is
a complicated series of sobs
And moments where her throat contracts,
The lungs empty, the panicky breathless feeling
Of drowning on land
That floods the brain as a tide coming in,
As white noise can drown the corrosive, clanking waltz
Of heavy machinery,
There is much going on there.
As a frayed thread of an afghan,
On closer inspection becomes a thicket of tiny strands;
As a million stars appear as a single dot in the sky;
Such is her grief.

I have seen this grief before,
In a tiger
Keeping vigil for many days
At the still body of a cub
Pawing the ground,
Asking itself tiger-questions.
The depths of tiger-grief are not known to us
But surely
They are deep enough.

 

[PatCarrington]

This has existed in several forms, it used to be longer but i've pared it down quite a bit. I don't consider it finished by any means, though, so any comments would be very helpful.




Consider the woman in this photograph: on her knees.
Stilled, she appears locked in a simple wail.
In fact, what’s happening is
a complicated series of sobs
And moments where her throat contracts,
The lungs empty, the panicky breathless feeling
Of drowning on land
That floods the brain as a tide coming in,
As white noise can drown the corrosive, clanking waltz
Of heavy machinery,
There is much going on there.
As a frayed thread of an afghan,
On closer inspection becomes a thicket of tiny strands;
As a million stars appear as a single dot in the sky;
Such is her grief.

I have seen this grief before,
In a tiger
Keeping vigil for many days
At the still body of a cub
Pawing the ground,
Asking itself tiger-questions.
The depths of tiger-grief are not known to us
But surely
They are deep enough.

quick thoughts, as i'm time-pressed....(i'll get back to it later, hopefully)

i like it on first reading....

your poetry seems too contemporary to have capitals at the start of each line. i'd can those for sure.

"waltz" doesn't work for me.

i like the frayed afghan image a lot, though.

the line "there is so much going on there" seems misplaced. it feels like it belongs somewhere, but not where it is.

"tiger questions" does not need a hyphen. i think it feels better if tiger is an adjective.

have you thought of making tigergrief one word? a new word, invented by you, for this poem?

hope to return to this later....

i'm sure you'll get more comment. it deserves it.

....and i don't like the title. i'm not fond of titles that are taken from phrases in the poem, generally....you can do better...

 

[WickedEve]

I read this earlier and liked it. Reading it again, definitely like it. Pay attention to Pat's suggestions and you won't go wrong.

 

[Angeline]

I really like your poem--there is a lot going on in it that is absolutely wonderful, but I also think it needs more editing. Here are my suggestions. They may or may not help, but if they do feel free to use them.

Consider a photograph of a woman on her knees.
Stilled, she appears locked in a simple wail.
In fact, she is sobbing. There are moments
where her throat contracts, the lungs empty,
a panicky breathless feeling of drowning on land
floods her brain as a tide coming in, white noise
drowning the corrosive clank, the waltz
of heavy machinery.

There is much going on there. this line seems ambiguous to me--you need to tie it more closely to the photograph, make it clear to the reader that you are comparing the stillness of a single frame with the chaos of what she was doing at the moment it was taken
On closer inpection, the frayed thread of an afghan
becomes a thicket of strands,
through the telescope's eye, a dot in the night
becomes a million stars.

Such is her grief.

I have seen this grief before,
in a tiger keeping vigil for days
at the still body of a cub,
Pawing the ground, asking itself tiger questions.
The depth of tiger grief is not known to us,
but surely it is deep enough.

 

[flyguy69]

This has existed in several forms, it used to be longer but i've pared it down quite a bit. I don't consider it finished by any means, though, so any comments would be very helpful.




Consider the woman in this photograph: on her knees.
Stilled, she appears locked in a simple wail.
In fact, what’s happening is
a complicated series of sobs
And moments where her throat contracts,
The lungs empty, the panicky breathless feeling
Of drowning on land
That floods the brain as a tide coming in,
As white noise can drown the corrosive, clanking waltz
Of heavy machinery,
There is much going on there.
As a frayed thread of an afghan,
On closer inspection becomes a thicket of tiny strands;
As a million stars appear as a single dot in the sky;
Such is her grief.

I have seen this grief before,
In a tiger
Keeping vigil for many days
At the still body of a cub
Pawing the ground,
Asking itself tiger-questions.
The depths of tiger-grief are not known to us
But surely
They are deep enough.

Hmmm. I like your opening more than I like Angeline's, because hers seems to address a universal woman in suffering while yours addresses a particular woman. "lungs empty" and "breathless" seem redundent.

I like the use of "stilled" to evoke the photograph, but wonder why then she only "appears" locked in a wail when, in fact, she is.

The white noise and machinery metaphor don't add anything to the poem for me. Is there another piece here; machines of war, farm implements, etc.?

I love the frayed thread simile.

The last two lines seem superfluous. They are cute and all, but are a let down from an otherwise powerful poem. I would perhaps modify the "depths of tiger grief" line and close there.

And I concur with Pat's suggestions.