Thread: Sea Fret

Right - I decide that the dreams line was editorialising, so it has gone. I came to the conclusion, egged on by Squalid Glass, that as the line "who had never charmed" was entire unto itself, commas would do...



Yet another revision!

The mist climbs the cobbled hill,
halos a dozen street-side moons
and softens the inviting neon glow
from the dance hall doors.

At her window, Miss Wilkins,
who had never charmed,
feels the throb of the resident band
and looking out, for a while watches
the singular entrances and coupled exits.
Turning away, she brushes both cat
and memory from the sill, draws
her curtains against the mist.




Another revision

The mist climbs the cobbled hill,
beads the coat of a recumbent
dog and enfolds a passing child.
Haloing a dozen street-side moons,
it softens the inviting neon glow
from the dance hall doors.

At her window, Miss Wilkins,
who had never charmed,
feels the throb of the resident band
and, looking out, for a while watches
the singular entrances and coupled exits.
Turning away, she brushes both cat
and memory from the sill, draws
her curtains against the mist.




Revision

The mist climbs the cobbled hill,
beads the coat of a recumbent
dog and wraps a passing child
against the dreams of tomorrow.
Haloing a dozen street-side moons,
it softens the inviting neon glow
from the dance hall doors.

At her window, Miss Wilkins;
who had never charmed;
feels the throb of the resident band
and, looking out, for a while watches
the singular entrances and coupled exits.
Turning away, she brushes both cat
and memory from the sill, draws
the curtains against the mist.


Earlier

The mist climbs the cobbled hill,
beads the coat of a recumbent
dog and wraps a passing child
in dreams of tomorrow.
Haloing a dozen street-side moons,
it softens the inviting neon glow
from the dance hall doors.

Miss Wilkins, who had never charmed,
feels the throb of the resident band,
and looking out, for a while, watches
the singular entrances and coupled exits.
Turning away, she brushes both cat
and memory from the sill, draws
the curtains against the mist.

Comments removed, peace...Jul

Beautiful, carry on.

I like your edit, much clearer image of Miss Wilkins and what she's doing. This is a good capture of a moment, very nice.

Comment removed....

Originally Posted by Bloggsworth

Revision

The mist climbs the cobbled hill,
beads the coat of a recumbent
dog and wraps a passing child
in dreams of tomorrow. I love this intro up until this line. Dreams of tomorrow feels too much like an advertising slogan or something.
Haloing a dozen street-side moons,
it softens the inviting neon glow
from the dance hall doors.

At her window, Miss Wilkins; The semi colon throws me off. Comma would be smoother, I think.
who had never charmed; Here too
feels the throb of the resident band,
and looking out, for a while watches The seperated "and looking out" feels a bit awkward to me just because of the punctuation.
the singular entrances and coupled exits.
Turning away, she brushes both cat
and memory from the sill, draws
the curtains against the mist. I adore this ending.

As usual SG, you make some good points, which are well worth considering.

I have considered and decided that you may be right about the dream, the implication, and concomitant inference, is that the dream is a happy one, which of course, it may not be - So now it isn't...

"Who had never charmed" is probably as good an example of a subordinate clause as you are likely to get, so I feel that it merits its semi-colons.

The looking out I wanted read in a particular way as I did not wish people to read it as "and looking out for a while..... watches the singular entrances and coupled exits." I wanted to make a separation between "and looking out" and then "for a while watches..." so that the looking out is one action then the watching is another - I think I've got it right now.

Even later - Maybe against ain't right - I'll think on.

Outside help is always welcome, and sometimes it it sees the wood where I only see the trees. The 2nd and 3rd lines beads the coat of a recumbent/dog and enfolds a passing child, while painting a pretty picture, in no way move the poem forward - so out they have gone...

Please don't hate me, Mr. B, I've only read your final effort, which I loved. You've a distinct talent for eloquent language that entices the most beautifully vivid imagery always coupled with such clever turns of phrase. Like the mist described in this piece, all of your work is suffused in an inviting halo which almost seems to belong to a different era. I don't get to stop in to comment as much as I'd like, but I find your all of efforts quite appealing, this piece is no exception.

Best,
Lisa