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Thursday, April 19, 2007

One

The rocky cliffs cry out the names of forgotten ones,
counting the dead for generations.

Now nothing grows on rough sketchy plains
only a bitter breeze bites and howls -
stings the cheek and face,
where once children's singing crept up the slopes of Connemara
and made a little root illuminate the stars.

2 comments:

P.B. said...

Jesus! Well done!

Only two small things. I wonder if sketchy is really the right word in that image. I like the sound of it but I wonder if the meaning is the right one exactly. Do you mean sketchy as in unfinished? If you do then that's the right word. Just wasn't sure.

And possibly this:

where once children's singing crept
up the slopes of Connemara
and made a little root
illuminate the stars.

For me, these line breaks make the sense a bit easier to catch. Really nice, Tiger. Thanks!

tiger said...

thanks for the feedback. Sketchy was supposed to communicate the texture of the place, like when someone sketches, like a pencil or charcoal sketch - I was trying to add to the colour and texture of the place. Unfinished could be used to describe it as well though honestly I did not think about that meaning. As you mentioned it might not work so I may rethink it.

I think a little clean up as you suggested wouldn't go amiss. Thanks for your kind comments. Take care, friendly bear :)

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