Thread: Six

There's something below the cold in these hollow winter months.
Cold you can manage.
Layer your friends like insulation about your neck.
Laugh through conversations.
Avoid the use of words.
They swell like sponges, too full, too heavy.
In the spring you'll take a trip to dry them in the sun.
Coats turn to blubber,
but the chill comes through your feet.
This memory of water, of wind,
of the girl who skates beyond the ice and stays
thirteen
forever.
Maybe you'll visit her grave today, you think.
After coffee, and a ball game.
After the day's chores have fluttered down like feathers from a wing.
Maybe tomorrow, you think, when it isn't so dark,
when the cold doesn't remind you of lips against the snow;
of stomach on packed sleet;
of peering through the water glass.
You were young, then.
She waved,
you waved back.
It took years before you realized--not waving,
not with fists.
She was beneath the ice,
striking at her own reflection.
You listened to the gentle whaps.
Slow drums in the distance.
Your sister's white knuckles
fighting
the frozen river.
So soft, so quiet.
One two.
Three four.

Five


Six.


You counted them out loud.

You thought it was a game.

Hi Kyle - the last two thirds of this poem were really powerful to me, that final image and the slowing heartbeat one-two of the count at the end, especially. Really crushing stuff. The beginning, though, feels muddled and it doesn't quite draw me along the way it needs to. I like a really terse first line, for one thing. I would, rather brutally, cut it something like this:

Cold you can manage.
Layer your friends like insulation about your neck.
Laugh through conversations.
Avoid the use of words.
They swell like sponges, too full, too heavy.
But there's something below the cold in these hollow winter months.
and the chill comes through your feet.

I don't know about the words like sponges, wonder if there's a more wintery simile possible. Maybe cotton? If you're from Colorado (?) you've probably heard the expression "cotton kills", because it holds moisture close to the skin and if you're XC skiing, for example, it will slow you down and make you more prone to hypothermia. Just an idea.

I also want to suggest reversing the order of the last two lines. Something about ending on the concrete action has a little more punch for me.

Hope this helps!
L

Hi Lasm!

I love how you interpreted the countdown (countup?) as a heartbeat. I find that fascinating. It was actually meant to be the sister striking against the ice. But now that you mention it there definately is a heartbeat-like rhythm to it. Perhaps I can pull off a, "Oh yeah, that's what I meant!" reaction.

I'm sorry the beginning felt muddled for you. It was probably because I had no idea what I was writing about, I just let the words flow and tried to steer the piece into some sort of direction as it moved ahead.

It's very hot and humid here right now, so my subconscious seemed to be daydreaming of the cold and the wet.

Thank you for the feedback and the cool fact about cotton and the cold. I didn't know that. Now I do!

I like your suggestion of ending this (or any) piece with action as opposed to narration. Something very perceptive to ponder over. Cheers!

Originally Posted by KyleColorado

Hi Lasm!

I love how you interpreted the countdown (countup?) as a heartbeat. I find that fascinating. It was actually meant to be the sister striking against the ice. But now that you mention it there definately is a heartbeat-like rhythm to it. Perhaps I can pull off a, "Oh yeah, that's what I meant!" reaction.

Oh, I knew it was the sister hitting the ice - just thought it was a heartbeat, too.

Originally Posted by KyleColorado

I'm sorry the beginning felt muddled for you. It was probably because I had no idea what I was writing about, I just let the words flow and tried to steer the piece into some sort of direction as it moved ahead.

It's very hot and humid here right now, so my subconscious seemed to be daydreaming of the cold and the wet.

Thank you for the feedback and the cool fact about cotton and the cold. I didn't know that. Now I do!

I like your suggestion of ending this (or any) piece with action as opposed to narration. Something very perceptive to ponder over. Cheers!

If nothing else, you will now be able to make more informed long underwear decisions. Should you ever have to make them at all.

I really enjoyed this piece and wouldn't change the beginning - it drew me in. The poem reminds me of the poem Not waving but Drowning - S. Smith (?)
Thank you for the pleasure this poem gave me.

Impressive. Powerful rhythm and images. Like Danny, I wouldn't change the beginning.

Very powerful piece and very emotional. I don't know much about technical side of poetry but I kind of like that the begining isn't completely clear where you are going. I feel it makes the emotion at the end stronger once the reader realises what has happened.

Hi Danny - I haven't read that poem but I'll see if I can find it. Thanks for the recommendation. I'm glad you enjoyed the piece. Cheers!

Hello Cran - Thank you for reading, and for the encouraging feedback! Good to know that the beginning worked for you as well. Cheers.

Hi Kyella - I don't know much about the technical side of poetry either ;P. I'm more of a story writer, but yesterday I felt like writing a poem for some reason . Thanks for reading, and I'm glad the ambiguity of the beginning paid off in the end for you. Cheers!

I think there's a strong poem hidden here, but some of the lines seemed unfocused, like they didn't belong. I cut up your poem quite alot, changed some words (i.e., L3 - can / can't). Apologies if I totally butcher your poem here. But I think it is leaner, and better, this way. Linebreaks could be reworked, though. Didn't understand why nearly every line was endstopped in the OP. Try enjambing them more.

Originally Posted by KyleColorado

There's something below the cold
in these hollow winter months,
a cold you can't manage.
Layer your friends
like insulation around your neck.
Laugh through conversations.
Avoid the use of words.
This memory of water, wind,
of the girl who skates beyond
the ice and stays thirteen
forever.
Maybe you'll visit her grave today,
or maybe tomorrow, when it isn't so dark,
and the cold doesn't remind you of lips against the snow;
of stomach on packed sleet;
of peering through the water glass.
You were young, then.
She waved,
you waved back.
It took years before you realized--not waving,
not with fists.
She was beneath the ice,
striking at her own reflection.
You listened to the gentle whaps.
Slow drums in the distance.
white knuckles fighting
the frozen river.
One two.
Three four.
Five

Six.

You counted them out loud,
thought it was a game.

Also, not a fan of the title. Just kinda blah.

On the contrary, the title drew me in. I chose this first when scouting down the page because it was simply "Six". It makes you wonder why the number is significant, and you find out that it is the most significant part (in my opinion) because that is the indicator that she dies.

This poem was brilliant, it kept me hooked throughout. I like the ambiguity at the beginning; to me it signifies the wandering thoughts of the young brother.

I like this very much.

Hi Jon - Not sure I agree with all your omissions but I appreciate the suggestions, and I like your use of line breaks. You've given me some good things to think about (plus a new fun word for my repertoire: "enjambling"! Thanks for the feedback.

Hi Aesmind. I'm glad you liked this one. It's very encouraging to hear. I also thought the title, while simple, seemed the most fitting. Thanks for reading and offering your thoughts. Much appreciated.

Cheers!

I very much enjoyed this, Kyle. A striking piece with great images. You should dabble in the poetry boards more often.

That actually made my hair stand on end! good job Kyle.

Interesting; I liked both versions of the poem, lol. I will say that my preference leaned more toward the leaner version but that is a personal thing I believe...the author was able to pull me in with his fatter version as well There were two lines that bothered me:

The first line flows awkwardly. I think it has already been suggested to drop it altogether or possibly come up with something new or reword it?
"There's something below the cold in these hollow winter months."
While an excellent visual read, this line seems extraneous and not really needed.
"Coats turn to blubber,"

A very moving piece. I thoroughly enjoyed it!

It also reminded me of 'Not Waving But Drowning', which (for me anyway) made it that little bit more powerful.

I liked the way the idea of the little girl below the ice linked back to the first line, that idea of having something haunting under the cold. It also suggested to me that feeling of emotional numbness & coldness that can follow a bereavement. However, it does flow awkwardly and I had to read it twice.

I wasn't sure about the line about the coats turning to blubber at first but when I thought about it grew on me. I like the suggestion of it, the notion of people pulling their coats so tight against the cold they're almost part of them, the picture it creates of people all wrapped up in puffy layers. There's an idea of withdrawing into the protective layer and using it as a subtle barrier. It feeds into the suggestion of distance between the narrator and those around him (created in lines 4 & 5), although in that sense it contradicts my favourite line,
'Layer your friends like insulation about your neck.'


Stevie Smith - Not Waving But Drowning


Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he's dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.