The Grave Covered by Snow

2010-03-20 06:17:18

The Grave Covered by Snow

Snow-flattened spruce
prostrating itself to the ground,
rusty leaves lie lifeless.
The cemetery is more quiet than usual.
Tombstones, low and high, crude and grand
stand in rows, still, each bearing its own secret.
Here, only the north wind whistles through,
only a squirrel, leaping from tree to tree,
brushes down a few pine needles, and
startles a crow with a few caws.
Then he appears,
unshaven for as long as he’s gone.
He is silent like the grave,
and light as the squirrel,
a faint cunning smile on his mouth.
Does he smell the fragrant wreath?
Does he see the foot prints in front of his tomb?
I extend my hand to touch
a flake of snow,
a flake of his skin.

Revision
By Dedalus

The graveyard is silent.
Only a few rusty leaves lie lifeless
amid tombstones, low and high, crude and grand,
standing, leaning, bearing secrets still in rows.
There is a squirrel leaping high upon the pine.
With snow needles falling softly down
comes the shriek and whistle of the north wind
blowing: caw, caw cry the crows.

Rewrite

A squirrel in the pine tree,
snow-flattened shrubs.
Rusty leaves lie lifeless amid
tombstones, low and high, crude and grand,
standing, bearing secrets still in rows.
Here, only the north wind whistles and shrieks,
only the squirrel leaps from tree to tree
brushing down a few pine needles
and startling a few crows.

Then he appears,
unshaven.
He is silent like the grave
and cunning as the squirrel.
Does he smell the fragrant wreath?
Does he see the footprints in front of his tomb?
I reached out to touch
a flake of snow,
a flake of his skin.

03/30/2010

作者	留言
Lake	A winterly, haunting piece... I could feel the chill inside and out- I stumbled on one line: as a few pine needles falling down, I would remove the as and maybe change falling to fall, so that it reads: a few pine needles fall down, A ghost, a tomb. a memory, a feeling- a mysterious and grand piece Lake! DC&J 03/20/2010 A captivating piece with a Gothic undercurrent. There's something timeless about cemeteries and the type of moment you portray. I love the way you describe the setting: ... a few rusty leaves lay lifeless. The cemetery is very quiet, tombstones, low and high, crude and grand stand still in rows ... Here, only the north wind whistles around ... I feel like I've been there. I know this autumn-on-the-edge-of-winter day. Yet the spectral characteristics you introduce could just the same beset the heart on a summer day, when there's nothing but a hot breeze -- today ... or decades ago. And there it is, that timelessness I felt, mentioned above. This one, in my opinion, is one of your finest, Lake. Thank you for it. Tony 03/21/2010 Hi Lake, The fragmentary closing lines give such a haunting effect: a flake of snow, a flake of his skin. Beautiful! Goldenlangure Mar 21 2010, 02:40 PM lake i found this poem beautiful. it has a lovely atmosphere. you have created the sense of quiet and timelessness that exists in cemeteries. and the imagery you use supports this scene excellently. i like the 'twist' at the end. is he real, is he a ghost? thanks for sharing. douglas 3/23/2010
Lake	by Danté » Mon Mar 22, 2010 10:19 am Lake This piece for me embodies the enviable lightness of touch that you deploy in a fair amount of your work that I've read. I think you also have a good eye for minute details which enables a lot of detail in the visual aspects of this poem. I like the seasonal relevance which is not overstated but places the reader where you want them to be. There are a lot of subtle internal rhymes present in the poem and I found their discovery to be rewarding and affecting of an out load reading without being overbearing. I imagine the piece will have a universal appeal across a very wide range of readers. I don't have much by way of anything I consider needs editing, but you might want to look at the two closely placed instances of only in respect of the reader possibly having to backtrack at this point to ascertain that it refers to the actions of particular items. I also pondered the fourth from last line and wondered if the absence of a verb between "prints" and "before" is making that line read a little out of sorts in the context of the liberal use of connecting verbs elsewhere in the poem. It's a very pleasant read and not something that is kind of subject I find easy to write and feel comfortable with in respect of keeping it fresh. Greatly enjoyed all the best Tim
Lake	This is so good ... haven't read any of the comments at all, just the poem. I'll read the comments later, find out what a fool I've been .... First thing that strikes me is, you got the order wrong. You may not agree. Gentlemen in this .. ahh .. business, nevah agree. May I be allowed the duty, sah? (slight rev) The graveyard is silent. Only a few rusty leaves lie lifeless amid tombstones, low and high, crude and grand, standing, leaning, bearing secrets still in rows. There is a squirrel leaping high upon the pine. With snow needles falling softly down comes the shriek and whistle of the north wind blowing: caw, caw cry the crows. After that, I'm afraid, you're on your own, because I can't be sure what you want to say. dedalus Mar 26 2010, 07:37 PM
Lake	Lynne Rees said... @ Lu: The Grave Covered by Snow - your precise detail creates a vivid and atmospheric scene, Lu, and I think you could trust it to communicate with the reader without adding any statement/qualifiers. Take a look at the following. I've edited out the pieces, that I felt were redundant, from your opening: A squirrel in the pine tree, snow-flattened shrubs a few rusty leaves lay lifeless. Tombstones, low and high, crude and grand stand still in rows, each bearing its own secret. Only the north wind whistles around, only the squirrel, jumping from pine to pine as a few pine needles fall and a few crows caw. I'm not saying it should be like this - I just wanted to give you an idea of how it works for me. Using 'Oh' in a contemporary poem is, I feel, always risky (it can seem archaic or melodramatic) but it works for me here. The 'oh' is like an intake of cold air, a gasp. And I really like how you close the poem - the imagery is beautiful and full of grief at the same time. Lynn 30 March 2010 15:10