a winter graveyard
by Ted Slater on 11/13/2008 at 12:13 PM
I appreciate the potential of poetry. I appreciate how the genre can distill feelings and thoughts into but a few words. As Paul Engle observed, "Poetry is boned with ideas, nerved and blooded with emotions, all held together by the delicate, tough skin of words."
Unsettling, these bones and nerves and blood and skin.
During my introspective college years, I scribbled down a few poems. Here's one of them.
reaching the white gardens
i stretch my legs over the sallow roadside bank
it's not so frigid and bleak today as it has been
the sky's not the gray and oppressive one of recent days
nor is it quite as dismal
now
here in the cemetery
kicking through drifts, my feet wet to the socks
i pass by iced tombstones and snow-crusted memorials
i'm not really looking for anything
but a feeling
here an oversnowed footbridge
here a burial mound hiding autumn's pine cones
here arthritic glass knuckles
cling from the crunchy skin of a leafless clicking lightning tree
rigid and chilly they grasp
lightly popping against each other
a clear drop hangs jiggling
and falls
tick
pocking the snow's surface
or sneaking down a worm tunnel it's made
before heading back, i haunch down in the snow
at the grave of someone's friend
and listen
to the ticking
1. J. said the following at 1:16 PM on Nov 13:
Thank you for sharing your poem with us, Ted. I too am an amateur poet, and outside creative writing classes and poetry readings which are full of people who enjoy poetry, understand the creative process, and are accepting and supportive, it is difficult for me to share my work. My poems are very personal, and depending on the language I use that isn't always obvious. I think this is true of most poetry, and I'm sure it is true of yours.
I especially like the imagery and sound devices you used in the third and fourth stanzas. And I hope your post will reveal that there are a lot of Boundless readers who are poetry fans!
2. Jenny Schroedel said the following at 2:40 PM on Nov 13:
Ted,
This is a beautiful poem. I too love to walk in graveyards. I love the silence, perspective and poetry of these places. You captured it so well--and winter is such a fitting time to contemplate mortality.
Jenny
3. Michela said the following at 2:47 PM on Nov 13:
Beautiful!
4. Andrea-Elena said the following at 2:55 PM on Nov 13:
Nice work on the onomatopoeia. And my favorite stanza is the last one: a little spare, full of potential meaning but offering room to the reader to explore that meaning, without feeling pressed in by too many words or lines that are too long. Well executed!
In the entire poem, the sparseness of punctuation works well too.
Like many of us, you probably have room to work on showing rather than telling. But even in your telling, you still use vivid language.
The shapes of the stanzas are kinda like monuments in a cemetery. And the winding nature of the short and long lines -- the image created by just looking at the text and the white space -- also reminds me of a wandering path through an old cemetery, one that wasn't planned on a grid. Cool... =)
And I hear ya on the sentiment... both in the poem... and about the phase of poetry writing in the college years. (I used "grey flannel" to describe one of those somber winter afternoons of not really wanting to go to class.)
Yay for poetry writers!!!!!! =)
5. BDB said the following at 5:19 PM on Nov 13:
Ah - poetry speaks to the soul...
6. erin said the following at 5:33 PM on Nov 13:
I loved reading this! Poetry is like chocolate to my soul. I wrote poems from fourth grade up through college, but then it seems that grad school killed my poetry writing (and I got my master's in English!). I often think about trying to revive the poet within, though, and this poem has inspired me further.
7. Lee said the following at 10:25 PM on Nov 13:
Very nice! And I'm not usually a poetry person. I am, however, an editor, and I think you meant "hunch" instead of "haunch" in that last stanza.
8. Colin said the following at 10:53 PM on Nov 13:
Thanks for being brave and posting, Ted. I find it hard to share personal things like poems on the internet. It's a beautiful poem.
9. LeeLee said the following at 7:14 AM on Nov 14:
Melancholy college years... oh, I've definitely been there.
Your line breaks are well executed. And I especially like the last stanza "... at the grave of someone's friend."
Post more!
10. Mearrha said the following at 1:41 PM on Nov 14:
Wow. I use to write poetry, but I never really have time for it now. Here is one of them. Enjoy!
False Statement
We say that we love God, but yet we disobey our Elders.
We say that we love God, but yet we use his name in vain.
We say that we love God, but yet we ignore his commands.
We say that we love God, but yet we ignore his presence.
We say that we love God, but yet we trash his temple.
We say that we love God, but yet we don’t pass on his love every chance we get.
We say that we love God, but yet we talk about other people.
We say that we love God, but yet we don’t respect his temple which in turn is our body.
We say that we love God, but yet we hate our enemies.
We say that we love God, but yet we worship someone else.
We say that we love God, but yet we don’t spend enough time with him.
We say that we love God, proclaiming we are Christians, but yet we misinterpret him.
We say that we love God, but yet we tend to love ourselves more.
We say that we love God, but yet we live in the dark.
We say that we love God, but yet we mistreat one of his most precious creations: HUMANITY
Yes we say a lot of things, but do we really mean them? Jesus himself told us that the greatest commandment is that we should love God with all of our heart soul, and mind.
For love is not meant to be told, but to be shown.
--Mearrha & Maevis Manoly
“For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.” John 3:16
11. Nathan said the following at 1:47 PM on Nov 14:
That's not poetry. Mangled short prose, perhaps.
wait
if i write my post
in small caps to show
that i am well read
like ee cummings
does that make me
a
poet?
and if i dare
to space
my words far apart
like lone sentinels
upon the sinking sand
is that art?
beware mr pope
your crafted rhymes
are out of date
12. Esther said the following at 9:38 PM on Nov 14:
One of the most peaceful places that I can think of is a little cemetery in upstate NY where many of my ancestors are buried. It is halfway up a hill, surrounded by trees on three sides, with a pasture on the other. The names on many of the stones are familiar, either people that I often heard of growing up, or, increasingly, those that I myself have known. One section is like standing in my family tree. My grandma has commented that she knows more people up there than among those now living. The little graves of my sister and cousin are side by side. I know that nothing is left but their mortal bodies, but when I spend any time in that place, I am reminded of how trivial our many worries are. The people represented by all the old stones have learned the eternal truths. Someday, not so far away, I will be like them. If the trumpet doesn't blow before then, it won't be so bad to rest with my kin in a cemetery called Mt. Pleasant.
13. beatrice81 said the following at 9:13 AM on Nov 15:
I'm not sure what that is -- it has a few nice images in it -- but it doesn't rank as poetry. Poetry is more than teenage angst, a mess of adjectives, and chopped-up line lengths.
14. Jo said the following at 9:14 AM on Nov 15:
Some lovely imagery Ted, you evoked the scene well.
However, Nathan's post reminded me that not so long ago you made a somewhat sarcastic comment about the lack of capitals in some of my posts......... I call hypocrisy. :)
15. Emily said the following at 11:46 AM on Nov 15:
Thanks for sharing this Ted, it's beautiful.
16. Pam Trask said the following at 6:42 PM on Nov 15:
Ted,
I can hear, feel, smell, taste, and see your poem. Appealing to the senses makes you a fine poet and this is one fine poem. Thanks for sharing, brother! :-)
17. doy said the following at 2:44 PM on Nov 18:
Beatrice, is it really necessary to take a dig at Ted's poetry? You sound like a snob. For one who doesn't like to judge, you judge much.